Synopsis: AU. In a world where Sybil Trelawney is never born, the prophecy remains, but goes unheard. How different will Harry Potter's life be growing up in a world where Voldemort won? How long until a brilliant young man is noticed by the ever more brilliant Dark Lord?
Pairing: Harry Potter and Voldemort, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Grainger, Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott and Luna Lovegood.
Authors Note:
Hello everyone, here is the third chapter. Thank you so much to everyone that has reviewed, favourited or followed, as it's really spurred me on to get another chapter written. I really hope you're liking the fic so far, as I'm really enjoying playing with the characters.
AN (April 2017): Editing on this chapter now complete. This one was a tough one.
Chapter 3
September 1st 1991
Harry was quite sure he was going to be sick. He would have done anything to purge his stomach of the sickly, twisted feeling that had quite suddenly filled it; that was, if it were his stomach. It might have been his head, or his legs, or even someone else's organs. It was difficult to tell, since he felt like his body was going through a blender and being squashed at the same time. He absolutely hated port keys.
Moments later, he landed arse first onto a thankfully soft blanket of grass. He grunted at the undignified entrance and swore under his breath; he had never been great with any kind of transport, other than broomstick. He had once thrown up all over the matron's shoes after being side-along apparrated to Diagon alley. The woman had never particularly liked him, but after that, she had downright despised him.
'Looking back on it,' Harry thought with an impish grin, 'I'm rather glad I threw up on her.'
Neville, who had managed to land on his feet, offered Harry an arm up, which he accepted. Harry brushed himself off quickly, being careful to pick out the stray blades of grass that were finding a home in his unruly nest of hair, and began to take in his surroundings. They had landed in a small meadow. It had been night when the twelve of them – all those of the age to be attending Hogwarts as first years – had left the orphanage via port key. The area was then bathed in a luminous moonlight, and this allowed them a full view of the imposing castle ahead. Just in front of them was a wrought iron gate. Across it, the words "never tickle a sleeping dragon" were emblazoned in Latin. Harry dearly wished he couldn't translate that, because it would have meant countless hours free of the dreary language teacher back at the orphanage.
In the distance, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry loomed ominously. It was beautiful in a most unique fashion, radiating archaic power and ancient magic. The dark stone was filled with tiny patches of illumination, where windows were presumably throwing out light from the candles and torches. Countless towers reached towards the heavens; inky black against the midnight blue of the night. A reflective surface spanned out from one side of the castle; the black lake presumably, though it was hard to tell in the gloom from a distance. Nearby the unmistakable shape of thousands of trees that must make up the forbidden forest, carried off into the horizon. It was an overwhelming sight.
"Did that hurt as much as it looked like it did?" asked Neville, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.
"At least twice as much." Harry responded with a sardonic smile.
Hermione, who had been conversing with a girl she shared a room with back at the orphanage, found her way to their side. "Are you nervous? I'm nervous. Do you think the library is as big as they say? I do hope so. I wonder if they'll let me in the restricted section. I hear they have the largest selection of books on the dark arts in History! I wonder-"
"Hermione." Harry interrupted, his tone amused. "You're doing it again."
"What again?" Hermione asked, before grimacing. "Oh dear, the thing where I chatter constantly when I'm nervous?" Harry nodded, smirking gently. "Oh no. I hope no one else realizes how nervous I am. I just don't know what to expect. I mean, do you think it will be much different to the orphanage?"
"Well, it's a lot bigger," remarked Neville.
"And some of the people will have, you know, parents," added Harry. This was somewhat of a sore subject, and he did wonder what it would be like to be around people who had grown up with such 'normal' upbringings, which seemed so foreign to him.
"We could be in different houses, you know," said Hermione, worrying her lower lip. "I do hope I'm with at least one person I know. I'm awkward enough as it is, without having to be alone on top of it all."
Harry began to respond to this, when the authoritative voice of the Matron rose above the chattering of the dozen children. While they had been distractedly talking, the figure of a man had appeared at the gate, and continued until he stood next to the matron and she began to speak; he was tall, with lank black hair and an almost raven-like appearance. He wore a stern expression on his face, and seemed to take an instant dislike to everyone there. Harry briefly wondered why someone would work at a school, if they so obviously disliked children.
'Perhaps he's just having a bad day' Harry thought to himself, trying as always to remain positive.
"Alright everyone, it's time for you to join your future classmates in the castle," began the Matron, who seemed like she had made this speech many times before. "This is Professor Snape, head of Slytherin House and Potions professor here at Hogwarts. He will accompany you all into the great hall, where your journeys as Witches and Wizards will begin. I ask that you be on your best behaviour while you are at Hogwarts, as this will be your home for the next seven years. The next time we shall all see each other shall be next summer, so I wish all of you the very best of luck with your studies!"
Without further adieu, in much her style, she disapparrated and left her wards in the care of the strange man they had just been introduced to. Harry bit back a scoff; there was a good reason that woman had been his least favourite carer at the orphanage.
"Silence," spoke the man, Professor Snape. He didn't raise his voice particularly, but his inflection left no doubt that it was an order and not a request. "You will pair yourselves, and follow me up to the castle. I expect no dilly-dallying, wand waving or anything other than silent obedience. Anyone who disobeys this will find himself or herself serving a most unpleasant detention with myself. Is that understood?"
There was a chorus of frightened agreement, nods, and even a whimper that Harry was pretty sure had escaped Neville, who had never been too good with authority figures. This man was certainly not one to be trifled with, and Harry made a mental note to stay out of his way as much as possible. At least, until he knew what he could get away with here.
Hermione quickly linked arms with him, marking her territory as his walking partner, and he gave her a comforting smile. Hermione always did her best to follow rules to the letter, and he had no doubt that she would be dutifully silent throughout the journey. A pity, really, since he wouldn't have minded discussing the sorting further.
They followed Professor Snape out of the little meadow, and through the iron gates. Passing under it, Harry felt a murmur of warmth settle in his chest, making it tingle pleasantly. He glanced at Hermione, but she didn't seem to have registered anything unusual, so he put it down to nerves and excitement.
Trudging through the grounds, Harry noticed that the atmosphere inside the gates seemed a little different. Whereas the night air outside of the grounds had been rather cool, inside it appeared to be several degrees higher. It also seemed a little less humid, and there was a subtle smell of vanilla and honey in the air. Harry smiled to himself, a little amazed; weather charms were very useful, but notoriously difficult to cast. He was definitely going to be in the company of some exceptional witches and wizards here. Even he, though not quite as bookish as his dear Hermione, was looking forward to all the knowledge Hogwarts would impart and all the adventures he would have here.
As if sensing that a child had dared to think the word 'adventure', the hooked nose professor glanced over his shoulder and caught Harry's eyes briefly, before sneering and looking away. Harry sincerely hoped that the scary professor couldn't also read minds, or he'd never have any fun. Worryingly, he thought he saw the mans lips form a small smirk at that.
As trepidation began to fill them, it seemed like the walk was passing faster and faster and it was as if no time at all had passed when they reached the huge oak entrance doors. Harry reached down to squeeze Hermione's hand briefly; to calm her nerves and to reassure himself that there were some things in his life that hadn't changed. Neville patted a nervous Dean Thomas on the back. A girl Harry had never really spoken to called Amber briefly leaned her head against Neville, seeking comfort. As children who had grown up together, they had often fought and bickered, but in that moment they were unified by their apprehension of what the school held for them. Their comforting ministrations were brought to a halt when the Professor reached the door, and swung round to face them.
"Momentarily, you will enter the Entrance Hall and join your year mates that have arrived by alternative methods." Harry knew this was just a slightly less cruel way of saying 'the ones who aren't orphans' "You will be alone until I return to fetch you, and I shall expect no misbehaviour."
After making sure the children felt thoroughly threatened, Snape raised his wand and made a light, flicking motion. The doors swung open, to reveal the grandeur inside.
Pushed forward by the impatience of a dozen eleven-year olds, Harry found himself standing before an imposing marble staircase. It rose to a second floor, and then seemed to split into a hallway, which lead in either direction. The floors were made out of stone, but were covered in thick green rugs, and embroidered with intricate patterns. Either side of the oak doors were two suits of armour that seemed to shift slightly, as if alive; this was a little unnerving for Harry, who had quickly given the armour some space. There must have been a hundred portraits filling the huge chamber. The portraits seemed to be talking amongst themselves mostly, but would occasionally make remarks to the children below. One particular portrait of a man with white hair and astonishingly thick, black eyebrows kept questioning the ancestry of everyone that accidently made eye contact with him. Although Malfoy orphanage had hardly been sparse in it's furnishings, this was far grander entirely. The descriptions of the older children had not done it justice.
Upon raking his eyes over every inch of the entrance of what was now his home, Harry found himself noticing the other children, that were stood near and on the staircase. Professor Snape had largely ignored them as he'd gone immediately through another pair of double doors to the right of the hall, and it was clear that the orphans were unsure if they were supposed to make introductions or not.
There were far more of them, these other children. There must have been at least thirty and they all appeared bored, as if they had been waiting quite a while for the orphans to make their appearance. A few of them perked up at the sight of them, staring as if they were some new novelty. After a tense moment, one of the boys broke ranks and approached them. He was blonde, fair and had an aristocratic look about him. His eyes were a silvery grey colour, which Harry thought he recognised from somewhere. The boy also had the distinctive golden band around the cuffs of his robes that marked him as a pureblood, as many of the other children waiting on the steps did. The only other person Harry knew who had such a band was Neville. Harry, on the other hand, had a silver band about his cuffs that marked him as a half-blood. This band had been a little more common at the orphanage, with their being two others present with the silver marking. Hermione, like the rest of the children from Malfoys, had a white band that marked her as muggle-born. This indication was seen as important in the outside world, but growing up surrounded by muggle-borns meant Harry had never really paid attention to the distinction.
"Draco Malfoy," the blonde-haired boy offered, upon reaching the group. He was looking directly at Neville as he said this, and outstretched a hand. Nervously, Neville took it and shook.
"Neville Longbottom," he responded. "The same Malfoy's that sponsor the orphanage?"
"The very same. One of our many ventures." Draco flashed a charming smile at the boy, and his lilting, sophisticated accent rang of wealth.
"Your Father mentioned you, actually. Yesterday in fact." Harry spoke up, intrigued by the boy who seemed to be from a world so far removed from his own, and worried Neville might die of social anxiety if forced to make any more small talk. Draco looked over Harry coolly, and to his silver band suspiciously.
"And you are?" he asked, his tone clipped and superior.
"Harry. Harry Potter."
Draco paused and nodded after a moment, clearly recognizing the name, and apparently deigning to speak to him despite his blood status. "And what did my Father say, Potter?" he asked, offering Harry a small smile.
"He said you were one of the few around here who might actually have a chance against me at Quidditch." Harry grinned, good-naturedly. After a long moment, Draco grinned back, and some of his pure-blood iciness seemed to melt away, much to Harry's relief.
"We'll see about that, Potter. Which team do you support?"
Before Harry could answer, the double doors of the room on the right hand side opened once again and Professor Snape reemerged, looking as grim as before. Harry took that as a good sign.
"Line up. The sorting is about to begin," he ordered. All of the children fell into line quickly; even the purebloods seemed too reluctant to keep the imposing man waiting. Once they were all in single file, Snape began to speak again. "For those of you who are not aware, there are four Hogwarts houses. Gryffindor, for the brash and brave," he seemed to say the word brave with a needless amount of sarcasm. "Ravenclaw for those who seek knowledge above all things. Hufflepuff for the loyal, or more commonly, the dull. And of course, Slytherin, for the cunning and ambitious amongst you." The last he said as if he thought it a great achievement to be sorted into his house. Harry snorted. He'd already read all about the houses, and knew the merits of each. Unfortunately, the Professor seemed to hear this, and shot Harry a scathing glare. Harry gulped. "Now. Follow me." The Professor swept into the hall.
The Great Hall was - Well - Great, for lack of a better word. There were four long tables, side by side, and sitting at them were students donning their house colours. Harry largely ignored his surroundings until he was stood safely at the front with the other first years, too nervous that he might trip up and make a fool of himself to take in the décor. When they did reach the front, he found himself staring at a hat on a stool. He couldn't take his eyes from it, because he couldn't shake the feeling that the rumpled front was in fact a face. He was distracted however, when a familiar voice filled the hall.
"Welcome, my little firsties, to your first year in hell," announced the quite unforgettable Headmistress Bellatrix Lestrange, who he and Hermione had met a few days before. She cackled, and a few of the first years exchanged worried glances. "No, I'm only kidding. You'll be alright, I imagine." Bellatrix shrugged, eyeing the gaggle of first years, as the older students chuckled behind them at the antics of their headmistress. Bellatrix caught the eye of Harry and Hermione, and a delighted grin crossed her face and she winked. Harry wasn't quite sure what to think of that, as she seemed to smile like one would at a particularly tasty dessert. While flattered, Harry didn't want to be eaten.
"Anyways, we need to sort you all," she said, seeming suddenly bored as she sat back down on her throne-like chair. She was sat on a table comprising of lots of other adults, presumably their teachers. He didn't recognise any of them.
Professor Snape reappeared from behind them, throwing Bellatrix a disdainful look. Harry held back a chuckle, thinking he could learn to like the Headmistress, if she continued to piss off the unfriendly Potions teacher.
"When I read out your name," ordered Snape. "You will come to the front, sit on the stool, and the sorting Hat will be placed on your head. It will then sort you into a house, which you will proceed to go sit with." Without further ado, he began to read names from a list on a piece of parchment in his hand. "Abbot, Hannah."
A shy looking blonde girl approached the stool, and dutifully sat down. She seemed to want to look at anything but the crowd as the hat was placed on her head, and she blushed at the attention.
"Hufflepuff," announced the hat, loudly.
Harry jumped, not quite expecting the hat to move. The Hufflepuff table, donning yellow, cheered loudly as the girl nervously left her seat, returning the hat to Professor Snape as he read the next name. This continued on for a while, with many people he'd never heard of being sorted and cheers greeting them. A few from the orphanage were sorted, but none he was particularly close to. Finally, it was Terry's turn. The hat was quick to decide that Terry was a Ravenclaw, much to Harry's surprise, given his reluctance to pick up a book.
By the time it was Hermione's turn, she'd begun to tap her feet with impatience and eagerness. Harry smiled softly, knowing she would very likely end up in Ravenclaw with Terry. He knew how eager she was to have access to the extra libraries that were rumoured to be hidden away in the Ravenclaw common room. She approached the stool, and Bellatrix offered the girl a mad little wave as she sat down. Hermione tried to return the smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.
The other sortings had taken very little time, usually less than thirty seconds by his estimations. Hermione's sorting seemed to take a good while, and he could see her lips moving softly as if she were speaking to the hat. After a few minutes, a low murmuring began and the word 'hat-stall' seemed to circulate. It must have been ten minutes before the conversation seemed to be drawing to a close, Harry gathered it was unusual for a sorting to take this long.
"Slytherin!" the hat announced, at last.
Hermione had turned very pale, and this time there was no applause. Harry glanced around at his year mates, to see a good portion of them looked dumbstruck and Harry could guess why; muggle-borns did not get sorted into Slytherin. There was no precedent, and Harry had thought the hat automatically didn't sort muggle-borns there.
"Come along, girl," said Snape at last, removing the hat and directing her towards the Slytherin table. Hermione looked like a girl walking to her own funeral. The only person that seemed pleased with this turn of events was Bellatrix, who now had her feet on the high table, and was draped across her chair like a king. She was grinning as she idly toyed with a stiletto knife in her hand. Harry wondered if she knew how well she did melodrama.
Neville was the next significant name to be sorted, and he was quickly sorted into Gryffindor. Directly after him was the boy they'd met in the hall, Malfoy, who found Slytherin equally quickly.
"Harry Potter," Snape drawled. Harry took a deep breath, and approached the stool. Sitting down, he took in the hall as a whole for the first time. He was glad he didn't have to do much apart from sit, or he might get stage fright.
'Interesting,' came a voice inside his head. 'Indeed, quite the confusing one. A tricky sorting all round this year.'
'Hello?' Harry called out inside his head. 'Are you the hat?'
'Yes, my boy, I am the hat inside your head. You're rather slow for a bright boy. They'd sort you out in Ravenclaw.'
'I quite like the look of Ravenclaw,' he conceded. He did like reading after all, and knowledge was one of the many keys to power.
'And it is power that you want. Power and infamy, it would seem. You and the girl, Hermione, have often spoken of your hope to gain notoriety for prodigious skill. That indicates the mind of a Slytherin.'
'I'm not sure about Slytherin... I don't like Snape, but maybe Hermione needs me there.'
'And loyalty too? A Hufflepuff trait.'
'Please don't put me in Hufflepuff.' Harry groaned, internally.
'Why does everyone always have such a thing against Hufflepuff?' remarked the hat, tiredly.
'What?' asked Harry.
'Sorry, I seem to be breaking the fourth wall a tad here. Anyway, you're also brave. Undoubtedly and unreservedly brave. Your parents were Gryffindors, you know.' Harry glowered at this, and tried to direct his unhappy expression to the hat in his mind. If you think this sounds difficult, then you have no idea.
'I have no desire to be like my parents, regardless of how brave they apparently were. They were traitors.'
'Were they indeed? So much you have to learn, little Potter. So very young you are. I will put you where you can find the answers to the questions you have not yet begun to ask. Better be…'
"Gryffindor!" the next part was said quite loudly, and the Gryffindor table burst into their usual applause. Two red-headed twins were even wolf whistling, as they had done for every Gryffindor.
Harry stood, and walked towards his table. Hermione was giving him a sad smile, and he was disappointed to note the others on her table seemed to be ignoring her presence. He felt a touch of guilt for not pressing to be put into Slytherin, but this left his mind when he reached the table and was quickly pulled into a one-armed hug by Neville.
"Thank Salazar you're in this house too. Or should I be saying Godric now?" he laughed quietly, as others were sorted.
The sorting concluded without too many more surprises. Dean joined Hufflepuff. Harry noted the twin redheads were especially loud when a boy called Ron joined the Gryffindors, and they also fell equally quiet in apparent surprise when a boy by the name of Blaise joined the table. Harry had no idea who the two were though, so didn't give it much thought. They were both purebloods, so perhaps that was something to do with it.
When the sorting was over, the hat was quickly removed. Harry thought he heard it complaining about a song, but Professor Snape simply tossed it into a sack – looking, if possible, more irritated than usual. The Headmistress seemed bored of official speeches – if one could call anything Bellatrix did officious – and merely waved her wand lazily. With that, plates and plates of food appeared and talking erupted in earnest as everyone in the hall dug into their respective feasts.
"My name's Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley," began the redheaded first year, pausing in his grabbing of food to shake the hands of Neville, Harry and Blaise. Blaise seemed rather reluctant to shake the hands of the boy, but that might have been because his hands were coated in grease from the chicken wings he'd just been devouring.
"Harry Potter."
"Neville Longbottom."
"Zabini." The boy didn't give his first name, though they obviously knew what it was already. Harry chose not to remark on that, but Ron raised an eyebrow in irritated dismay.
"So what are you looking forward to the most? I can't wait for Halloween! My brothers say Hogwarts throw the best Halloween parties in the world," asked Ron.
Blaise offered an acidic smile at this, but didn't comment.
"I'm looking forward to care of magical creatures," said Neville. "I've always liked weird creatures. I want to be a dragon rider one day." Ron nodded, as if giving his approval of this ambition.
"I just can't wait to play Quidditch with real equipment. The stuff at the orphanage tended to get shabby pretty quickly," said Harry.
Ron smiled, shovelling some mashed potatoes into his mouth. The topics continued to flow quite easily between the boys, with the exception of Zabini who seemed keen to just listen. There were a few girls who'd been sorted into their house, and three other boys that seemed to know each other and were talking exclusively between themselves. Neville and Harry became fast friends with Ron, and even Blaise had an interesting anecdote to add now and then, if reluctantly.
By the time the feast came to a close - with Bellatrix telling them to go play in the forbidden forest if they wanted because she so enjoyed the dying screams of stupid children – they had all agreed that they would share a dormitory. Admittedly, Zabini had very little say in the matter, and his only other choice were the gossiping trio of boys behind them. Harry fell asleep that night in the warmth and comfort of Gryffindor tower feeling far more at ease than he had the night before. Even if Neville snored, and Blaise snarked and Ron didn't chew his food properly, he knew he could learn to like his housemates.
His last thoughts before he fell asleep that first night, were that he really hoped Hermione would be alright in Slytherin without him.
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