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.
AN: Hello everyone! Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews; they're such an encouragement. To answer a few questions and comments: I know a lot of you wanted Harry to be in Slytherin, but it just wouldn't suit his character in this story. Harry is brave, and that characteristic will help define him. I hope you enjoyed the other sortings, and there's a bit of an explanation about them in this next chapter.
AN (April 2017): This chapter has now been updated.
Without further ado, enjoy the next chapter!
Chapter 4
September 2nd 1991
The next day was a Monday, and for once, this didn't cause Harry too much dismay. Ordinarily Monday would have meant maths, Latin, history and no opportunities for flying at all. At Hogwarts, however, it meant Harry was going to actually learn magic. Even though he was a night owl by nature and rarely rose before nine (eleven if he could help it), he found himself up and showering at six thirty, before the other boys had even stirred.
The shower itself had been wonderful, the heat easing some of the tension Harry hadn't realised he'd been holding on to. He'd taken his time to make sure he looked his best, and even made an attempt at taming his unruly hair with a comb. By the time he left the room – an en suite attached to their dormitory – the other boys had woken and begun to get dressed, and Zabini was waiting outside the door.
"You're like a girl. I've been waiting for twenty minutes!" He spat, giving Harry a scathing look before storming into the room and shutting the door behind him. Harry chuckled, guessing Zabini was not a morning person.
Harry carefully picked out his clothes and changed, feeling no shyness in front of the other boys as he stripped off his pajamas and donned his school clothes. Harry had grown up with very little privacy, and was quite used to it. Neville was in the same position, and Ron didn't appear to mind either. Harry vaguely remembered Ron mentioning that he had a big family. Blaise, however, dressed in the bathroom and sneered when he emerged to find them in varying states of undress.
"Do you orphans have no sense of propriety?" demanded Blaise, Harry now noticed a slight Italian accent that he hadn't before. "I'd at least expect better from you Weasley, though I don't know why."
"Leave off, Zabini!" retorted Ron. "What's got your knickers in a twist? Upset you missed out on Slytherin?"
Zabini glared at him for a moment, before sighing dramatically and sweeping out of the room.
"What's up with him, anyways? He seems a bit moody. Do you know him, Ron?" asked Harry, bemused.
"Oh yeah, well we all do really. Pure bloods I mean. He's just upset because most of his mates are in Slytherin and he's here."
"Is Slytherin better then? I thought they were all the same?"
"Well… Officially they are," Ron agreed. "And we have the better Quidditch team. But with the Dark Lord and the Head Mistress being from Slytherin, rumor has it they get better treatment. Individual bedrooms instead of dormitories, their own libraries, better parties. I don't know if that's true though, since all my family are Gryffindors."
Harry nodded, a little touch of jealousy flaring at the Slytherins getting better treatment. 'At least' he thought 'Hermione is getting something out of being sorted there.'
"It's quite unusual as well, a whole family being in one house. Didn't used to be, but that was when the sorting was different." Ron had finished getting ready, and so had Neville and Harry so they continued their conversation as they began to make their way out of the towers and towards the great hall.
"Different?" Harry questioned.
"Well, apparently when my Dad was young, most of the time Slytherin was just for pure bloods who were good at dark magic – Gryffindor for people who were good at light magic – Ravenclaw for anyone who liked books and Hufflepuff for those that didn't fit anywhere else." They reached the common room, and walked straight through the portrait hole. "But that's not how it was meant to be, see? So when the Dark Lord took over, and Professor Lestrange became Headmistress, they did something to the hat to renew it's magic. It had gotten old, and the enchantments worn off. Anyways, now the sorting is meant to be a lot truer; Slytherin for if you're ambitious and cunning, and Gryffindor if you're brave and daring. Only actually clever people can get into Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff for people that are loyal – or weirdly good at finding things. And that means all the death eater kids that want to go to Slytherin only get in some of the time."
"Hence Blaise being pissed off," Harry finished, to which Ron agreed.
"It's good for us though." Ron continued. "Mum says she thought Gryffindors would be treated like dirt under… in the new world. But our Lord needs brave people, doesn't he? And some of our lot are good at dark magic, or death eaters kids, or also really intelligent like a Ravenclaw. It means there's not as much… I dunno the word for it."
"Prejudice? Discrimination?" Harry guessed.
"Yeah. Blimey, maybe you should have been in Ravenclaw." Ron bumped shoulders with Harry playfully, as they reached the great hall.
"So why was everyone so shocked when Hermione was sorted into Slytherin?" asked Neville, pushing the doors open.
"You know the muggle-born that went to Slytherin?" Ron let out a low whistle. "Well, put it this way; things have changed, but they haven't changed that much! I mean, they get more half-bloods than they used to, but a muggle-born witch in Slytherins house? Good luck to her!"
Harry and Neville exchanged concerned looks as they sat down at the table for breakfast. Glancing over, Harry saw that Hermione was as of yet, nowhere in sight.
Half an hour later, Harry had consumed an indecent amount of toast. Ron and Neville had sat back to animatedly discuss a new rock band called "The Goblins" that was entirely made up of vampires, when Blaise reappeared.
"Where've you been?" asked Ron, half accusingly.
"Not that it is any of your business, but I was talking with Draco Malfoy. It does me good to have some civilized conversation," he responded, irritated. Ron promptly stuck out his tongue, and Harry laughed.
Before any further insults could be traded, a man they had met very briefly last night as their head of house, began to make his way down the table handing out sheets of parchment.
"Our schedules, I reckon," said Ron, noticing Harry's curious look.
"About time," remarked Blaise. "We have our first class in half an hour, and don't even know what it is yet. They'd better not expect us to have our books today."
"Longbottom," came the voice of the Professor, handing Neville a blank piece of paper. "Weasley" he handed Ron the same, before fixing him with a look.
"How many more of you lot are there? I swear I've had more Weasleys through my house than anyone should be made to suffer."
"There's three more of us, Professor Crouch." Ron responded, a little nervously. "All girls."
"Well, as long as none of them are twins, I suppose," responded the professor, smiling good-naturedly. "I don't know if I could deal with another pair of Weasley twins."
"Neither does my Mum, sir," said Ron, smiling balefully.
"Anyway, here you go. Zabini, Potter. Just tap them with your wands and say your name, and there should be a map and a schedule. You'll all have the same until after yuletide, when you'll be moved into classes according to ability instead of house."
The Professor walked away, and Harry eagerly tapped the parchment.
"We've got double transfiguration first..." remarked Blaise, thoughtfully. "With the Hufflepuffs."
"Then Dark Arts with –" Harry's eyebrows rose. "Professor Lestrange teaches a class?"
"Of course." said Blaise, smirking. "And she's wicked good at the Dark Arts."
"I know." Harry replied, nodding. "I can't wait, actually. Oh, and we share that class with the Slytherins. That should be interesting."
They read through the rest of their schedules, idly noting that Professor Crouch – their head of house – taught Light arts. Other than that, Harry didn't recognize any of the teachers, so didn't give the schedule much thought. A little while later, after Ron had stuffed another plate full of toast and jam down his throat, and Blaise had enjoyed another rant about the lack of table manners in Gryffindor house, they all stood up to leave. They had just reached the oak double doors, when the bushy-haired figure of Harry's best friend tumbled into the hall looking flustered. All four of them stopped, and Hermione rushed into his arms in a flurry of excitement.
"Harry, you should see the library here! It's incredible." she began, flashing him a wildly excited grin.
"Why am I not surprised that's the first thing you want to talk about?" responded Harry, smiling indulgently at his would-be sister. The sight of Hermione not looking too stricken at being forced into such a hostile house gave him a great sense of relief, and he released her, putting his hands on her shoulders. Ron and Neville were idly chatting about the castle, waiting for him to finish his conversation; Blaise was looking over Hermione curiously, no doubt wondering about the first muggle-born Slytherin.
"How are they treating you in your house?" Harry asked in a low voice, while Blaise adopted a carefully blasé look, as if he weren't listening.
Hermione shrugged, a slightly sad expression crossing her features. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be. I think Professor Snape intervened on my behalf, to prevent them picking on me…" she blushed at this. "They've mostly just ignored me. They haven't been exactly welcoming, but they haven't been cruel other than the odd whispered comment as I walk by."
Harry frowned at this, hating that anyone would pick on his closest friend, even subtly.
"They'll get used to you," he said, reassuringly. "And even if they don't, who cares? You have us, and you can show them up with how ridiculously clever you are." He smiled, and Hermione once again blushed.
"Thanks, Harry. Listen, I want to grab some food before my first class, but we'll see each other later?" she hugged him quickly again.
"Definitely. We have Dark Arts together later, so I'll see you there. Bye Hermione."
Hermione walked away, looking a little less emotional at the reassurances of her friend, and Harry let a weight rise from his shoulders as he and his housemates slowly meandered to their first lesson.
Transfiguration proved to be a bore, as the lady that taught it 'Professor McGonagall' just lectured them about the importance of safety, and the uses of transfiguration in Wizarding society. She was an older woman, with a downtrodden feel about her, but it was interesting when she turned herself into a cat when explaining the use of animagi. They didn't actually perform any magic in that first lesson, and Harry tried not to feel disappointment.
Afterwards, they had a short break. Ron and Neville split off from the rest of them, claiming they wanted to grab a snack before their next lesson. Blaise had rolled his eyes at this, and he and Harry had begun to walk in the general direction of the dark arts classroom. Before long, they ran into a group of Slytherins that were walking in the same direction, and Blaise struck up a conversation with them.
"Nott, Malfoy, Crabbe," began Blaise, formerly. "How are you?"
"Quite well, Zabini. How are your new arrangements suiting you?" responded Malfoy, smirking.
Zabini glowered. "Well enough, though not with the privacy I have grown to expect…" he drawled.
Malfoy chuckled. "Well, I'm sure you'll face that particular inconvenience…bravely." Nott and Crabbe stifled a laugh at this, enjoying Malfoys jibe at Blaise's House.
Zabini rolled his eyes. As much as he disliked his new House, he seemed quite used to this teasing. Harry imagined the four must know each other quite well, and wondered at their formality. Malfoy's eyes met Harry's, and his cold smirk turned into a light smile.
"Potter, isn't it? We met before the sorting."
"Yeah." Harry smiled, good-naturedly. He knew enough about people like Draco to know that they could be perfectly pleasant, as long as they didn't see you as much of a threat. "Did you enjoy your first class, Malfoy? Blaise and I just had Transfiguration."
Although he adopted their air of stuffiness, he used Blaise's first name pointedly. Harry wasn't about to act like some proper old man, just because these rich kids wanted to be superior. Draco raised an eyebrow.
"It was rather dull, actually," he commented. "We had Herbology. I've never been fond of the subject."
"Nor have I," agreed Harry, as they stopped outside the door of the dark arts classroom. A few others had appeared then, including Ron and Neville, a handful of Slytherins and Hermione. The other Slytherins distanced themselves from her, and Harry defensively slung a hand around her shoulder.
"Harry." She smiled. "Did you like your first lesson? We had Herbology. It was fascinating. Are you looking forward to Dark Arts? I've heard Professor Lestrange is quite the remarkable teacher."
"Calm, 'Mione," Harry laughed. "You'll suffocate if you get anymore excited." She batted him playfully, just as the door to the classroom swung open.
Standing in a deep purple, crushed velvet cloak that went down to her ankles, a black corset and skirt, and knee high leather boots, the imposing figure of the Head Mistress stood above the now silent students with a wicked grin on her face.
"Welcome kiddies," she smirked, pushing the door open wide. "Get inside, and let's see if any of you are worth your magic!" She said this in a cheerily threatening manner, and Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances. As a unit, the children shuffled into the classroom. Harry noted that it was a huge room, more akin to a hall. Against one side were desks and chairs, and against the other side was a kind of small arena, with dummies on either side. There was a glowing blue line around this part of the room, and Harry recognised it as the same kind of warding spells they had around the domes of the International Duelling Competition.
"This is where you're either going to learn to be a Dark Witch or Wizard –" began Lestrange, seriously. "Or you're going to learn to be a masochist. Either way suits me just fine."
She smiled, but only Harry and Hermione laughed and even they seemed surprised that they dare. Harry realised they probably didn't know what the word meant, and thought that probably for the best. It was only their avid reading that had given them knowledge of the word.
"Most of you won't be good at this subject," she sighed as she said this. "But the Dark Lord requires at least a certain level of ability from all of you, as we embark to expand our empire. However, for those of you that show promise, there is much to be gained here at Hogwarts." Harry felt an air of giddiness at this, and tried to control his expression.
"Alright!" she dropped the serious look, and stepped over the magical barrier. "Enough talk, I'll leave that to the boring teachers. I want to see what you lot are made of, so when I say your name, you'll step into here and perform a spell at this dummy." She gestured to the dummy behind her. "Any spell is fine, but try to make it a bit dark, or I might get bored."
"But…" began Ron, "You haven't taught us anything yet, Professor.."
Lestrange gave him a perplexed look, and then scoffed. "You're a wizard, aren't you? You've had your wand for a few weeks, yes? And your books?" Ron nodded, looking quite terrified. "Good. Then you can surely show me a spell."
Without needing her wand, Lestrange snapped her fingers, and a list appeared in her hands.
"Lola Gaskin," announced Lestrange. A mousy haired half blood girl that Harry hadn't seen before stepped into the ring nervously. Lestrange already looked bored, as the girl tentatively lifted her wand and cast a weak – albeit successful – bat bogey hex. It was strange to see bats shooting out of the non-existent nose of the mannequin.
"Fine. Next up – Ron Weasley."
If Gaskin had been bad, then Ron was far worse. He stalled for a good minute, before eventually attempting a spell that Harry was pretty sure wasn't real. When nothing happened, Lestrange sighed impatiently, and pointed her wand at the red-head.
"Lashius," she cast, calmly. Ron jumped and clutched his upper thighs, feeling the effect of the spell Harry knew mimicked the feeling of a strap against the skin. Blaise stifled a laugh, for the first time since Harry had met him "Come to my classroom prepared, Weasley."
Ron nodded miserably and rejoined the group, sniffing every now and then. One by one, they were called. Draco's was fairly impressive, earning a nod from the Professor, but they were mostly unremarkable. When Hermione's name was called, Lestrange looked bored half to death.
Harry watched with nervous pride as Hermione entered the ring, and nodded calmly towards Lestrange. She looked very young, with her long wild hair and big brown eyes. There was a sense of disinterest about them, as everyone but Harry seemed to discount her. Fortunately, Harry knew Hermione well enough to predict what was about to happen. She took a deep breath and lifted her wand.
"Extasius," Hermione said calmly, with a wide arch of her wand. The dummy before her exploded from the abdomen, littering the floor with rubber intestines. There was a susurrus about the room, and Harry grinned. This was by far the most destructive spell that had been used, and even Lestrange seemed to be stunned for a moment. If he wasn't mistaken, that was a spell taken from the 5th year curriculum.
"That, my dear…" began Lestrange, "was excellently done! I knew you and I were going to have fun together. Such a complex spell for a beginner."
She'd approached Hermione, and literally ruffled her hair as she cooed over her, much to the surprise of the onlookers. Hermione was flushing with pride, and Lestrange promised to speak to her afterwards. Harry was barely over his elation for his friend when it was his turn. His joy turned to nerves as he entered the ring. He had practiced a few spells since he got his wand, but not many and never in front of anyone. He'd been having a few issues with the castings, and he wasn't eager to show off as of yet.
Deciding he wanted to make at least some impression on the Head Mistress, he chose a second year spell that was fairly simple to cast but was undoubtedly dark in its nature. He'd been reading about it the night before, and apparently it was one of the retinue of spells that depends on the intent of the caster. He took a good minute once inside the ring to gather his thoughts. Hermione had taught him this trick from an old book she'd found a year or so ago; a kind of meditation where one could locate the source of their magic and draw from it.
Taking a deep breath, he pointed his wand at the dummy and cast.
"Expulso!"
And the world went black.
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