Poor Slytherins. Always bullied and put down by teachers as we see So OfTeN iN cAnOn. They're practically forced to do it. Everyone treats them like monsters and dirt, so they act like monsters…and dirt.
I mean, for example...
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Dumbledore strode contentedly down the corridor. The walls, thirty feet apart, offered plenty of room for him to strut smack dab down the center of the hallway.
Far down the corridor, Draco Malfoy cringed as he thought frantically through his options. Deciding on one he considered the safest, Draco flattened himself against the wall and inched forward at a snail's pace.
When Dumbledore strutted past him, Draco bowed deeply.
"Excuse me, please," Malfoy practically begged.
Dumbledore stopped cold.
He turned slowly towards the Malfoy Scion.
Draco began to sweat.
"Did you just beg something from me without my express permission?" Dumbledore spat with pure contempt.
The blond Slytherin boy gulped audibly as he tried thinking of a way out.
"You have my deepest apologies," Draco simpered.
"Not sincerest!?" Dumbledore asked, aghast, whipping out his wand. "CRUCIO!"
Once Draco stopped screaming, Dumbledore curled his lip and spoke.
"You now have my permission to beg," he said.
"Sir," Draco whimpered. "You have my sincerest and deepest apologies, please, I beg of you to excuse me!"
Dumbledore screamed at the top of his lungs. "NOOOO! YOU DIRTY SLYTHERIN!"
LEVICORPUS!"
Draco was yanked into the air by his ankle.
Dumbledore put his whole body into the swing of his wand, slamming the sixth year boy up and down into the ceiling and floor. Side to side into each of the walls.
Once his arm got tired, three seconds later, he released the jinx, allowing Draco to fall the remaining fifteen feet to the cold, hard stone.
Dumbledore was calm as he dusted himself off and wiped his brow of the sweat that had beaded there from his effort.
"Go see Poppy," he said, disgusted. "She will fix you up."
Draco was so injured that all that could be seen of him was a Censored block.
He weakly gasped as he spoke to the elder wizard. "Wizard…cough….not kill…wizard."
"I see no wizard," Dumbledore scoffed. "All I see is a dirty bully!"
With that, he swirled his wand and conjured fiendfyre in the shape of a lion. The fiery creature looked down at Draco and back at Dumbledore as if saying Are you serious?
Dumbledore responded with an angry gesture at the censored out boy. "Deadly."
It enveloped Draco.
As he walked away, Dumbledore couldn't help but feel quite satisfied with the justice he had served.
Later that evening, another charred Slytherin found their way into the Hospital Wing.
"Oh, shut up," Madam Pomfrey snapped. "You're lucky you got off so easily after you showed that level of disrespect to Professor Dumbledore!"
A chorus of weak groans echoed throughout the room and the medical witch sighed.
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"That is the FOURTH TIME I've heard you audibly breathe, Gregory Goyle!" Professor McGonagall screamed. "Go see the Headmaster before I lose my patience and turn you into a mouse and fling you into the Owlery!"
Goyle jumped as he realized that someone was talking to him and rushed out of the room to obey as his father taught him to.
The pudgy boy raced to the gargoyle statues and paused to take a breath. Everyone knew the password to the Headmaster's office, but it was different depending on your house. As far as he knew, Gryffindors said I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good, and the Hufflepuffs said Mischief Managed. He never heard what the Ravenclaws did, but he knew the Headmaster despised Riddles. The Slytherins, of course, had the worst of it. Their password was Slimy Slytherins Are Stupidly Slow And Smell So Atrocious.
Then, if they didn't touch their toes quickly enough the gargoyles smacked them.
Goyle prayed they wouldn't notice him bending his knees.
The gargoyles leapt aside to grant him entry. As he passed, one of them stuck a foot out to trip him and he sprawled onto the steps before scrambling up them. Being a Slytherin, the stairs wouldn't move for him.
Once he reached the opening to the office he bowed deeply and waited.
Ten minutes later, a strong, macho (eye roll) voice called out. "Enter!"
Goyle walked in.
The office had changed over the years. All of the portraits of the past Slytherin headmasters were stacked next to a fire pit to be used as kindling to warm the Headmaster on cold nights.
"Goyle," Sirius Black said smoothly, lounging in the bejeweled sofa throne that only the Headmaster had access to. "Tell me why you are here."
Goyle started to speak but was interrupted.
"Quickly now, boy," Sirius said, sipping olive oil from a golden chalice. "I have an engagement later."
He winked at the reader.
"Yes, Headmaster Padfoot," Goyle bowed. "Mistress of the Magical Arts McGonagall, the Lioness, determined that I was breathing too loudly, too often, and sent me here for punishment."
"Your speech lessons are coming along nicely," Sirius Black noted. "Alright, you get to choose between punishments C and G."
Goyle paled. Everyone knew punishments C and G.
It was hard to choose between watering the Whomping Willow or spending an hour in a room with a bludger.
"I pick," Goyle gulped. "G, sir."
"Very well," Sirius Black smirked. "Since I'm feeling generous, I'll have Madam Pomfrey supply you with some Bruise Cream. It seems that the generous donation I gave to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes has returned my money tenfold."
Goyle nodded, holding back tears and started to trudge out.
"Hold up, BOY," Sirius ordered. "Whenever you leave the Headmaster's presence…"
"Always speak the Hogwarts motto," Goyle finished. "Unless you're a Gryffindor who gets to take the slide."
"Get on with it," Sirius said, finishing his drink.
Goyle cleared his throat. "Every child sorted into Slytherin was born to be punished!"
"Well done," Sirius said. "Good umph. Dismissed."
"One thing, sir?" Goyle asked.
"Why not," Sirius shrugged. "I'm feeling generous."
"Didn't you kill a load of muggles a while back? And that one wizard, Pettigrew?" Goyle continued. "Why did they never put you in Azkaban?"
Sirius guffawed. "Are you daft, boy? I'm a Gryffindor!"
Goyle nodded and hurried down the stairs to his waiting punishment.
From under his desk, Sirius pulled out a gallon of olive oil and refilled his chalice. Swirling it in circles, taking a light sip here and there, he spoke quietly to himself.
"Today has been a good day."
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"Well done, Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "That Slytherin must've fallen at least twenty feet!"
"Yeah," Harry chuckled, reminiscing upon the moment he kicked the Slytherin seeker in the face during the game they had just won. The Greengrass ponce had let go of her broom and hit the ground with a satisfying thud.
Unfortunately, she would be out of the Hospital Wing by evening.
They headed to the dungeons for potions, having already changed out of their quidditch gear.
"Man, potions suck," Ron groaned.
"Snape is terrible," Harry agreed. "He hardly teaches us anything useful!"
"Asking stupid questions above our year," Ron continued.
Harry chuckled. "Luckily we got Hermione to answer everything for us."
They laughed together as they reached the door to potions. They sighed and entered the room.
"You're late," Hermione told them. "Again. Professor Snape began class thirty minutes ago."
The boys took their seats. Their table had all of the ingredients they would be using already prepped to perfection and a clean sheet of parchment detailed the exact potion they would be working on.
"Yeah, yeah," Ron scoffed loudly. "Not like he's going to do anything about it."
"Mister Weasley," Professor Snape said coldly from across the room. "The class would appreciate it if they could work in silence."
A few Gryffindors nodded and Hermione smiled.
"Oh shut up, you crooked bat," Ron snorted. "I'll be silent when it suits me."
"Yeah," Harry said. "Wash your hair before you try telling us what to do!"
Snake snapped his mouth shut and gave them a dirty glare. He could easily take down the entirety of Gryffindor house on his own. But, not the other Gryffindor professors.
He really didn't want Hagrid to wedgie him again.
"Pay attention," he said, turning back to the board. "The first step to making the cough drop potion is to fill your cauldron halfway with water-"
"Yawn," Ron said aloud. "We did that. Move on already."
Snape continued. "Grab a bottle of Quatl Honey and pour three dollops into-"
"D'you reckon the honey is edible on its own?" Harry asked Ron.
"Yeh, probably," Ron shrugged.
The red haired boy unscrewed the honey bottle and dipped a fat finger into it.
"Into your cauldron. You will stir forty-two times clockwise. Ten stirs per minute," Snape moved on. "Then you will grind your ginger root into a fine powder as the honey is dissolved. After you-"
"Yeah," Ron nodded. "It's pretty good. You should try it."
Harry grabbed his neighbor's honey bottle and unscrewed the top.
"Hey," the student complained.
Harry bowed up on the student. "Square up!"
The boy flinched back giving a muttered apology. Harry then dipped a bony finger into the honey bottle.
"After you have finished grinding it," Snape said. "Set the fire to low and wait for the cauldron to boil. Once it has-"
"It has a weird tang," Harry admitted. "The aftertaste reminds me of an unpleasant fall into mud."
"But the first taste is good," Ron said. "Right?"
Harry shrugged and grudgingly nodded.
Snape cleared his throat. "Once it has started to boil, sprinkle in the ginger root while waving your wand over the potion-"
"OH! MY! BLOODY! HELL!" Ron shouted, clapping his hands with every word. "Can you SHUT IT!? Can't you see me and Harry are trying to have a conversation?!"
Snape bit his tongue and took a deep breath. He could never get used to this.
"Grimy git," Ron sneered.
He turned back to Harry and they continued to talk.
Hermione groaned and lay her head on her desk. It was going to be one of those days.
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The end of year feast went as it always did. With Slytherin in dead last with four points. The few times a professor dared give them points, they were rapidly depleted for "completely justified reasons", like speaking before bowing.
The Gryffindors, having barely eked out a win over Hufflepuff, cheered wildly as the banners turned red and gold.
The Hufflepuffs glared at their famous house rivals. The Gryffindors smirked back.
Headmaster Black stood up and the cheering stopped. It was time for his yearly speech.
"First of all!" he exclaimed seriously. "I would like to inform you all that Filch was very upset with the amount of rule breaking that happened this year and he does not want to see it happen again."
A moment passed and then raucous laughter erupted from every house and professor.
Hagrid slammed his fist into the table as he started coughing from laughter and Flitwick was rolling down the hall, tears of amusement streaming from his face.
Sirius wiped a tear from his eye before continuing. "Yeah right! Like any of us care! Anyway, good job on the win, Gryffindors! However, Snivellus Snape reports that little over half of the Slytherin house found themselves in the Hospital Wing. I feel like we should step it up next year, our numbers were below average."
The Slytherin house collectively cringed.
"I would also like to announce that my Anniversary is coming up in a few days!" He continued.
Professor McGonagall put her face in her hands. "Why? Why does Sirius feel the need to do this every year?"
Professor Sprout laid a hand on her colleague's shoulder. "I understand. It was rather sweet the first time, but it can get rather tiring after four years."
"Who wants to play hide and seek in the Forbidden Forest!?" Sirius Black shouted.
Hagrid laughed and stood up. "I'll get me crossbow!"
McGonagall started to sigh. She didn't stop for a long time.
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The next year didn't come soon enough, but eventually Harry's fifth year arrived. He sat in his seat in the Great Hall and watched as the Sorting Ceremony started.
McGonagall held up a fourteen foot long scroll and read off the first name.
"Albertson, Albert," she called.
A pale, sweaty, blond kid with an Afro walked to the stool where he sat down. The stool made a clacking sound against the floor as its occupant trembled.
The hat lowered onto his head.
Hmm what have we here? The hat said. You come from a long line of Slytherins, descended from Devin Albertson, the nephew of the neighbor of Salazar Slytherin.
Please, no, the boy thought. That's not fair. That's not even close to Slytherin! And I'm not Slytherin at all!
I've sorted the cousin of the daughter of the son of the neighbor of Godric Gryffindor into Slytherin, boy! The Hat snorted mentally. Do you really think you stand a chance?
Please? The boy begged. Can't you make an exception just this once?
My wife is a sentient clay pot, I only make exceptions for Potters, the Hat said. I don't make the rules, I just enforce them.
Albert was confused. But doesn't that-
"SLYTHERIN!" The Hat screamed.
Just remember, the hat said as it was being removed from his head. You deserve this for being born of a Slytherin!
"Get off the stool you stupid boy!" McGonagall spat scornfully. Poor fool, he'll be in the Hospital Wing by the end of the week. Should have known better than to be a Slytherin.
Albert flailed his arms as he sobbed and ran to the Slytherin table which was empty of benches and chairs, forcing Slytherin students to either stand or sit on the floor. The elves refused to allow them onto the table and frequently shot bolts of electricity at one whenever they tried.
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This was not the first clandestine meeting of Slytherin house, but it felt like it was going to be the last. They had to make a choice between two evils.
Voldemort, or Gryffindors.
The Dark Lord's death eaters had told their children of his return and subsequently fled the country, abandoning their families.
Draco Malfoy alone had been told that the Dark Lord would be based out of Malfoy Manor, the one place whose owner had been unable to flee.
"So," Malfoy said. "It has come to this. Do we snitch or side with the Dark Lord?"
"Either way," Zabini said. "We're selling our souls."
The students grew silent as they pondered.
"The Gryffindors scare me," Flint, a Hogwarts Alumni whimpered.
Many heads nodded in agreement.
"What do we do?" Pansy asked.
"We pick sides," Draco said, standing. "It's all we can do."
He took a moment to look each of his fellow Slytherins in the eye before he continued. "Our parents, sans mine, have abandoned us. Our peers look down and treat us like dirt. The Dark Lord will happily, gleefully, throw us into battle as fodder for his army. And he'll curse us if we don't take it lying down. He might curse us anyway. The Gryffindors are scary as hell and hex us every chance they get. I spent over half of my last year in the Hospital Wing for one reason or another."
Malfoy took a breath, collecting himself. "Our only hope is to put them against each other. Like true Slytherins, we shall let others do the fighting for us. Let's squeal on the Dark Lord."
Gasps rang out around the crowd.
"We'll tell him everything we know about the Gryffindors, and give him any secrets we can find. And then we'll snitch on his location to the Gryffindors," he told them. "We'll send two, one telling the Dark Lord and one snitching."
"But who's going to snitch?" Professor Snape asked. "I'm certainly not foolish enough to do it. Dumbledore does not trust me anymore. Ever since he gave up his position to that loathsome dolt, Bla-"
"Don't say his name!" Draco interrupted fearfully. "He jinxed his name last Saturday because only us purebloods call absolutely everyone by their last name."
"Good catch, Malfoy," Snape said. "But the question remains, who will tattle on the Dark Lord?"
"I'll do it!" Daphne Greengrass stepped forward. "I'll rat out the Dark Lord."
Professor Snape put a hand on her shoulder, tears in his eyes. "We will remember you. Thank you for your sacrifice."
Draco sighed. "And I'll deal with the Dark Lord."
Snape shrugged. "Okay, you go do that."
He gave the Malfoy Scion a thumbs up and a pat on the back. "Good luck with that."
The platinum blonde Slytherin gulped.
"Let's do this," Snape said. "Everyone, hands in the middle."
After ten minutes of awkward shuffling and placement, Snape continued. "Go purebloods. Break."
The Slytherins gave a half-hearted "yay" and separated.
Draco and Daphne shook hands. They would likely never see each other again.
They left the common room, each one to risk their life for the safety of their house as a whole.
—————————————————————
"What do you mean, Voldemort's back?" Sirius Black asked, rolling his eyes when the girl flinched. "We already knew that."
"How?" She asked.
"Harry keeps getting scar visions of Voldemort," the headmaster explained.
"And you believe him?" Daphne had to ask.
Sirius scoffed. "Why wouldn't we believe his scar visions? There's literally a whole prophecy about him and old bald face."
"Okay, fine," Daphne grudgingly accepted. "But, I know where he is. He's in Malfoy Manor."
Sirius swirled his glass of what looked and smelled like vinegar. "I see. And who's helping him?"
"Most of the marked death eaters have already fled the country, sir," she said. "He has little backing at the moment, so he may try Azkaban."
"Oh, that's no problem," Sirius chuckled. "I had all Azkaban prisoners executed."
"What!?" Daphne asked in shock. "When was this?"
"My wife, Amelia Black-Bones, is the Minister of Magic," Sirius said, sipping from his drink before frowning at the liquid. "Needs more cinnamon."
"Would you be a dear?" He asked, pointing to a cinnamon shaker that was 24-inches tall.
She scooted it the two inches across the desk to him.
"Thank you," he said, using his wand to turn it upside down and dumping almost half of it into his drink.
A large portion settled on top like a tiny desert dune. Sirius blew it off into Daphne's face.
She sneezed several times as Sirius sniffed the drink before downing the whole thing in one gulp.
The headmaster immediately started to cough and choke.
When Daphne started and got up to try and help, he held up a hand. "I'm fine, I was just surprised at how much fat I just inhaled."
"Anyway," he continued. "I had them executed yesterday. Thank you for the information, you may leave."
Daphne felt a heavy sense of dread as she left without being injured, insulted or punished.
As she hurried down the stairs, Sirius stood up and turned around, his hands clasped his back.
He raised one leg serenely into the air and leaped upwards as his other foot shot out at a forty-five degree angle, hitting a button on the wall, just below the ceiling. That button would alert the Head of Security, Hagrid.
It was time to plan an attack.
—————————————————————
The next morning, Malfoy was not at Slytherin for breakfast.
Greengrass had been bombarded with questions, no one had expected her to return. She couldn't answer any of them, goodness what went through the headmaster's mind.
Malfoy wasn't the only one not present though, whispers broke out among the houses about the mysterious absence of Professor Hagrid, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall.
Daphne noticed, halfway through her eggs, when the missing professors reappeared. They entered through the front doors, the elder two strutting smugly while Hagrid wrestled with a large sack holding something clearly alive. Whatever it was, it fought like a dazed rodent.
Daphne presumed the sack was silenced otherwise she would probably some angry animal's shrieks.
Headmaster Sirius Black suddenly stood up, clinking a spatula against a plate accidentally dropping his potatoes all over his lap.
He looked down mournfully and straightened up before speaking aloud.
"Good timing, Professors," he grinned. "I just finished my potatoes. Students! We have an announcement!"
Hagrid reached the Professor's table and whirled his arm, slamming the sack onto it. Whatever was inside the sack had stopped moving.
Sirius Black cleared his throat. "First things first, Congratulations Harry Potter on earning 12 points for Gryffindor for his spiffy glasses."
Harry nodded proudly as Gryffindor erupted into cheers.
"And now," he continued. "I shall be doing I never thought I would do. Five points. To Slytherin house…"
The Great Hall exploded into shocked gasps and chatter. Sirius Black giving points to Slytherin?
"For Daphne Greengrass, who revealed the hiding place of the sneaky cowardly snake, Voldemort. She will be off-limits to all forms of bullying except verbal for the next forty-eight hours."
There was stunned silence. The Gryffindors were shocked, the Hufflepuffs were pleasantly surprised, the Slytherins were astonished, and the Ravenclaws never really cared in the first place, but a few gave half-hearted gasps to add to the atmosphere. Except for Luna Lovegood who was, as usual, dancing. Today she was doing the Cotton Eye Joe on the table. Which was weird as she usually alternated between Irish Step Dancing and Aggressive Ballet.
Sirius would have to have Filch check the structural integrity of that table, she had been doing that for years. The House Elves only allowed it, of course, because she wasn't a Slytherin. Hogwarts had taken in House Elves from previous owners for generations. Whenever one was fired or left for dead, they found their way to Hogwarts. And a House Elf never forgets. And neither do their children.
Sirius wasn't done though. "Now, as punishment for the rest of Slytherin house, minus 384 points for being losers, and not ratting out Voldemort first."
The Slytherins looked on apathetically. It would have been a lie to say they weren't expecting that.
All that remained in the Slytherin glass were the five points the Headmaster had given Daphne. Sirius didn't know who had been giving them so many points recently, but it was completely unacceptable.
"And," he said. "In addition, we have a new school mascot! Hagrid, if you would?"
The meaty hands of the half-giant up ended the sack, in a dramatic fashion. The creature that sat in front of Headmaster Black was so ugly that the entire school flinched away from it.
It wasn't only not cute, but it was hairless and that wasn't even the most prominent trait.
The hairless cat was noseless.
"His name," Hagrid shouted. "Is Catmort! The Dark Cat!"
Daphne was aghast. That was a horrible fate for even the worst villains. Her house was alone in this as laughter rang out across the Hall.
"And his sidekick!" Hagrid said, pulling a terrified rodent from one of his pockets. "Draco 'amster! The little brat was tellin' Voldemort all our secrets! Unfortunately, I think I sat on his father, so I won't be showin' 'im to ya."
The laughter decreased.
"We will be letting Catmort roam the castle," Sirius announced. "Feel free to kick, in fact, I encourage it! He's unable to leave the castle grounds and has magic shock collar for my personal amusement! That will be all, enjoy your breakfast!"
The Professors took their seats and breakfast continued on as though nothing had happened.
He looks like he's in shock! Daphne thought. I know I would be. To go from a Dark Lord to a house pet. Horrible. Poor Malfoy. I'll have to see what I can do to put him back, or at least keep him in the Slytherin dorms. It was then that she noticed that Catmort was glaring at her.
She decided then and there that she would be warding her dorm that night and every night from then on.
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Authors' Notes:
Sirius Black: why did Dumbledore step and make me headmaster in this story?
Forsooth: looks at Conquest.
Conquest: *In Dumbledore's voice: I knew ever since I found out the Sirius Black nearly killed Snape, even on accident, that he would one day take my place. Quite unfortunate that Potter stopped Snivellus before he could get done in by the werewolf. It would have been the funniest prank since the Chamber of Secrets opened for the first time. Hagrid wrestled the basilisk into submission before using it to petrify half of Slytherin House.
Sirius Black: That's Hilarious!
Forsooth: So…is this acceptable per our agreement?
Conquest: yes, will you now reveal your secrets to us?
Forsooth: how and why are you here? In our stories and notes?
Sirius Black: that would be spoiling it. I'll tell you at the end of your next authors' notes. If there's anything I've retained my skill in, it's stretching the tension. Now go on with your outro thing.
Conquest: blast! He's got us there!
Forsooth: well, enjoy the read. We're probably never going to have a regular upload, so just review when you feel like it and suggest the stories to your friends, families, and random strangers on the street!
Conquest: the better and more famous this gets, the more likely we'll put effort into. Heck! This could be a career!
Forsooth: likely not.