Harry stumbled along the corridor, not knowing where he was going, only walking because his feet moved on instinct. He clutched his hand to his chest, blood running down his wrist. His eyes were unfocused, and then he turned a corner and began to run.
He didn’t know where to. There was hardly anyone around, and he was cutting it close as it was for curfew. If he got caught out by someone, he surely would be in even deeper trouble.
The hag was evil. She was worse than Snape, worse than the Slytherins who bullied people constantly. He felt sick. He had a new scar. Another one to add to the ever growing collection.
When someone asked what Dolores could do to them, suddenly everything got shed in a whole new light. Extra work? House points? No. Carve a bloody scar into your own hand. Surely that was illegal. Surely?
Tears started to well up in his eyes, and then he slammed into someone’s chest, promptly dropping his books. He was knocked flat on his arse and heard a muffled curse.
“Watch where you’re going, you- Potter?”
Harry’s gut sank. Oh. Oh no.
He looked up at green and silver robes, coming face to face with Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.
The Slytherin had an utterly baffled look on his face, but something flashed in his eyes when he saw how Harry just stared at him, eyes glassy, hand held close to his chest as if-
“What happened to your hand?” The boy snarled, seemingly annoyed at Harry.
“Nothing,” the boy who lived defended quickly, but didn’t move.
“Hogwash,” Malfoy muttered, kneeling down next to him. “Let me see, Potter.”
“There’s nothing to-“
His hand was away from where it had been tucked against his chest a moment later, and the look of horror that flashed across Malfoy’s face when he saw it would’ve been comical in any other situation.
“Where’s Weasley?”
“Should be in the dorms by now…” Harry murmured tiredly, looking away.
He loved Ron. He really did. They weren’t even arguing at the moment! But all of the times that the ginger hadn’t believed him, that he had called Harry a liar straight to his face, had been jealous over his money of all things-
It was hard to share things with him. And he rather didn’t fancy a lecture from Hermione. So he had kept it a secret. The punishments were something that was his and his alone.
“In Slytherin you’ll find your true friends.”
Had Harry made a mistake? Had he allowed his judgement in first year to cloud his future? He just couldn’t go back to the dorms right now. He couldn’t go back to the heat and the bright explosion of red and gold. He wanted peace. He wanted to talk to someone that would believe him.
Malfoy stared down at him with a mixture of understanding and concern, before standing and offering a hand out. “C’mon, Potter.”
“What?”
Malfoy rolled his eyes and pulled Harry up to his feet by his good hand, not releasing him and instead pulling him along afterwards. His bag floated behind them, all of his things suddenly back in it. What was even happening? Malfoy not being rude and mocking for once in his life? If Harry didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought this was someone under a Polyjuice Potion.
But his wand was the same. So probably not. He was tired of death eaters and the like trying to kill him. He was tired of Voldemort. Would it be selfish to just throw himself off of the astronomy tower?
Harry didn’t start paying attention, until he almost fell down the stairs Malfoy pulled him onto, which caused the Slytherin to quickly catch him before he was even halfway through falling, the hand that wasn’t holding his wrapping around his waist and pulling him back beside him onto the staircase with an ease that suggested he had done it hundreds of times before.
Weird.
“Don’t be falling, Potter. Can’t have the chosen one dying, now can we?” Malfoy sneered, but it was softer than before.
It held less annoyance and anger and more amusement than anything else. It was a new look on the blond. Harry found himself chuckling, the memories of Dolores and the bloody quill fading away for a moment.
When he looked up, Malfoy looked oddly pleased. His grey eyes shimmered slightly in the dim lighting, looking positively ethereal. They reminded Harry of Sirius. Sure, they held a bit of green, but that just made it prettier.
‘Slytherin eyes,’ Harry thought, not realizing how long they had stopped for.
He wondered if Malfoy was a Black. Related or something. He never really thought about that. He just clumped the Blacks, Malfoys, and a multitude of other pureblood houses under the ‘blood-purists’ and ‘Death Eater’ categories. It was nothing to mull over most of the time.
But still. Harry wondered. Was he somehow related to one of the figures Harry was confident enough in to call a father figure? It wouldn’t mean much… There was no love lost between Sirius and his family. He didn’t know why it mattered to him.
Eventually Malfoy was the one to break the weirdly charged silence, clearing his throat and snapping Harry out of his getting lost in mercurial eyes. His face felt hot, and he looked away quickly. The blond just continued to pull him down the stairs.
As they started approaching a long expanse of stone wall, Harry stopped in his tracks, eyes widening.
“Don’t be a twat,” Malfoy admonished, trying to pull the blackette along.
He dug in his heels, shaking his head, “Malfoy, why are you-“
“Don’t question it, Potter, lest you hurt your pretty little head.”
Ah. There Malfoy was.
“Though it’s more worrying that you know where the entrance to our common room is, despite there being no indicator that it’s there,” he smirked, glancing over before muttering a quick, “Moonstone.”
Huh. A potion ingredient. Harry would’ve thought it was something along the lines of ‘Pureblood’, though he guessed Snape was the one making the passwords, so it made a bit of sense.
Either way, he was now getting dragged into the common room, to the bewilderment of the few people still there. Though they glanced at Malfoy, who was tugging him along, and most just resumed what they were doing. It was refreshing; not being the center of attention. He liked that.
Speaking of the common room, now he was able to get a better look at it. His first impression when he had snuck in to question Malfoy had been a grand rather than cozy room, with stone walls, but he was more focused on getting caught then. Now, though?
He rescinded that idea. Sure, it was a bit cold, though he actually preferred the slight chill in the air. Large windows took up the walls, viewing out into the water of the lake. In the morning and with better light, it would probably cast the room in a green glow, but now it was just a rather dark emerald color.
A large fireplace took up part of the wall, featuring a snake carved into the stone above the mantle. The flickering flames cast a warmer light around the space, contesting with the cold of the lake and offering an interesting effect. Intricate looking dark oak supported plush couches that were adorned with green and silver.
Tapestries and portraits took up the walls, having a cozying effect. Under the windows were slabs of stone with cushions resting atop them to form benches. Dark oak tables and matching chairs reside in empty spaces near the walls for studying purposes. Though there was a larger one in the center, with parchments and inkwells still strewn across it, and what looked to be older students and the prefects assisting struggling and tired 1st-5th years. The seventh years had their own table, though he dared to say it was more messy. Green lamps were scattered about, giving enough light to see comfortably, but not enough to be as bright as his normal common room.
Rugs were cast around on the floor, looking softer than those you would find in the Gryffindor common room. This place was… quite nice. He didn’t want to call it perfect. He didn’t want to think about the future he could’ve had here rather than with Ron and Hermione. The green of the house was present, but there wasn’t an explosion of it.
The bright red and gold everywhere in the Gryffindor common room was quite overwhelming at times, despite how cozy the place was when he was in the mood to appreciate it. But everything was better than his tiny room in Privet Drive, so he chalked it up to that. The stone snake shifted with the sound of grating stone and hissed, ‘Welcome, speaker. You’re not in the house you’re supposed to be in.’
Malfoy looked shocked for a moment, elbowing Harry in the ribs and speaking, “Pay attention Potter, or you’ll fall going up these steps.”
Oh, right. And here was the grand staircase leading up to the dormitories. Wait. The dormitories? Why was he being brought here, of all places? Should he really be doing this? Well-
“Why have you not told Weaslebee?” Malfoy questioned as he led me past plaques beside doors that determined which year was present inside.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry defended, casting a sharp gaze the blond’s way.
Malfoy sighed, before speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, ”That wound on your hand is from a blood quill, a rare black magic artifact that has been banned. All of the remaining ones were thought to be snapped decades ago. It would typically take hours of writing lines for the blood to stay on your skin like that, and I know that you’ve had at least one detention so far. Why haven’t you told them?”
Harry stayed quiet for a moment, taking furtive glances at the Slytherin before replying, words carefully mulled over as they left his mouth, “Based on previous… experiences, it is logical to assume that I would not be believed. And with Hermione, it is less the… idea of her not believing me, but the lecture I would get admonishing me instead of worry for my safety.”
“That blood traitor wouldn’t be-?”
“Don’t call him that!” Harry snapped, teeth gritting.
There was silence for a moment, and they stopped outside of the dorm room for the sixth year Slytherins before Malfoy acknowledged his request with a, “...Fine.”
Well Harry certainly didn’t expect that.
“So you don’t believe you would find help within your own house?”
“They are rather kind when there aren’t any conspiracies against me,” came the smooth reply.
“When there aren’t- Potter, when has your own house believed you over the Prophet or the professors?”
“...”
“Gryffindors,” Malfoy huffs, before pushing open the door to the room.
Harry doesn’t have time to look around before he’s ushered in and pushed to a seated position on a rather comfy bed. It wasn’t infinitely soft like the ones in his dormitories, but more firm with a soft sinking feeling as it gave way under his weight. He much preferred this bed to his own, come to think of it.
“Vince, go get Sev,” Malfoy orders the boy, who immediately goes to complete the task, leaving the room.
“Potter?” Zabini questions, incredulous.
There’s a quick shuffling, and a multitude of books are pushed into drawers, trunks, or even hidden under blankets. It’s not so quick enough for Harry to miss one of the titles, though. It peaks his interest immediately, drawing him in in a way that he doesn’t quite like or understand.
Either way, he questions, “Are those books on dark magic?”
The entire room goes tense, and there’s a soft curse from Malfoy. Goyle mutters something under his breath in a different language, and Zabini sends Malfoy a look that almost screams ‘Why the hell did you bring him in here without any warning!?’
Nott eventually spoke up, albeit rather quietly, “You don’t seem antagonistic.”
Harry realizes the tone he had spoken in wasn’t harsh like he had wanted it to be, but rather curious, as if they had a bit of magic he didn’t know about and wanted to learn. It wouldn’t be a very good idea to get information from a bunch of Slytherins, though, who were the children of Death Eaters. Every single student in this room was a child of a Death Eater.
But was that really fair to them? To compare them to their parents? He was raised by Vernon and Petunia Dursley, but he was far different from them. Maybe… He should give them a chance to explain first. Harry took a moment to understand that he was expected to respond.
“Isn’t it evil?”
“Oh Merlin,” Malfoy huffed, seemingly exasperated.
“No.” Zabini replied with slight amusement. “Though it is given a rather bad rap these days. It’s just a category of magic. There’s dark, neutral, and light. Not to mention a lot of other categories, though going on about that is more Theo’s thing.”
“Oh.”
“Weren’t you taught about this by whoever you were raised by? Even if it was biased?” Malfoy raised a single blond brow.
“My aunt and uncle hate magic,” Harry replied with a shrug. “I didn’t even know it was real until I got my Hogwarts letter.”
“What!?” came the outraged outcry from most inhabitants of the room.
Goyle just stayed silent, observing the situation with crossed arms. Though his brows did furrow slightly in something Harry realized was a show of concern.
A moment later, Severus Snape walked through the door with a few potions in hand, and drawled, “I heard something was the matter, Draco?”
“Something most certainly is the matter!” Malfoy replied indignantly, crossing his arms and raising his nose in a sign of outrage. “The Boy-Who-Lived didn’t know about magic until he got his Hogwarts letter!”
Snape had apparently just noticed I was here, though something flashed in his eyes at the words.
“And why is Mr. Potter here in the dormitories after curfew when it is explicitly stated in the rules that no one outside of Slytherin is allowed in?”
“Blood quill,” came the sharp reply.
Harry sighed. Zabini blue-screened for a moment before looking furious. Nott’s brows raised in surprise, and even Goyle looked up from his book he had pulled back out after everyone had realized Harry had caught a glimpse of the subject of the books. Funny, he didn’t peg Goyle for the studious type.
Snape stared at Harry for a moment, black eyes glittering with an unknown emotion before he questioned, “And why is his head of house not dealing with it?”
“I don’t believe he would have gone to her either way,” Malfoy shrugged, before adding, “But he did say he didn’t expect them to believe him.”
Harry glared at Malfoy. He had trusted him with that information! Great, now it was getting told to the one person he thought could despise him more than Voldemort.
“Is this true, Mr. Potter?”
He sighed. “Yes, Professor.”
He looked down at the stone floor, not willing to meet the Potion Master’s eyes.
“Do you not feel safe in your own house?”
He grit his teeth, before looking up, eyes shining like the killing curse in the light of the room.
“The second year? No. The third year? No. Last year? No. This year?” He rolled his eyes and continued, “There are quite a few people who have decided that suddenly I’m making up the reason for-”
This was the one time he stumbled over his words before continuing on.
“For Cedric’s death, so I may be privy to some hexes in the shower or something later on.”
The room is dead silent.
“Really?” Zabini scoffed, tossing his head. “Who would’ve thought that the Boy-Who-Lived would be hated on by his own house?”
“I didn’t ask for the title,” Harry snapped.
A slow smirk spread over the boy’s face. “Really? A Gryffindor doesn’t want to be the most famous person in all of the wizarding world? Sounds like you’re living the dream.”
Harry rose to the bait, “If you want to be almost killed every year by Voldemort, be my guest.”
“Every year?” Malfoy questioned.
Harry crossed his arms, going on to list, “The first year it was a troll, then Voldiemoldie on the back of our DADA professor’s head, then a three headed dog and stupid oversized chess pieces.”
There was a choking sound at the nickname.
“The second year was the somehow younger version of him named Tom Riddle that was in a diary and a basilisk.”
Someone choked again and there was another, “What?”
“Yeah, its corpse is still in the chamber of secrets. Anyways, that was the year we snuck in here because we thought Malfoy could be the heir of Slytherin. Anywho, in the third year we thought there was a murderer on the loose who was trying to kill me who turned out to be my godfather, a werewolf who was the best DADA professor we’ve had, a secret Animagus who was Ron’s pet rat.”
He took a breath.
“Fourth year it was our DADA professor again, guys see the pattern, who was a Death Eater under the PolyJuice potion, a dragon, but basically the entirety of the Triwizard Tournament which I was entered into unwillingly, by the way, the entirety of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor hated my guts for a while, let’s not forget Voldie himself tried to Avada me again, and now this year we’re starting off strong with this blood quill or whatever.”
“Bloody fuck dude.”
“Right?” Harry snorted. “0/10, would not recommend.”
Snape sighed, but kneeled in front of Harry, raising his brows in an order to give him his hand. He gave his hand to the potion master, who frowned and slathered a salve on it. Harry didn’t so much as flinch. He was used to pain by now.
“It’s going to scar, right?” He sighed, “I have a detention with her again tomorrow, anyways.”
“Oh, Merlin no, you’re not going back!” Malfoy protested.
“Since when did you care?” Harry scoffed.
“Potter will be serving his detention with me instead,” Snape cut in, before adding, “And if you drink this, no, it will not.”
He offered out a black potion that smelled horrendous, but Harry just uncorked it and tilted it back, draining it with ease. It tasted terrible, but it was worth it. The red, irritated skin on his hand healed, and just left shallow cuts. Snape wrapped it in a bandage before standing back up in a swish of dark robes.
“Y’know, the snake moved for him,” Malfoy confided, tilting his head with a rather odd smirk.
“It. What?” That was Snape.
“Why is that important?” Harry drawled, raising a brow.
“It only moves for Slytherins,” Zabini confided with a grin, wiggling his brows.
Harry scowled, “If you start talking like the hat, I will hex you.”
“Like the hat?” Nott spoke up, seemingly more interested now.
“Said something about greatness in Slytherin or whatever,” Harry shrugged. “Said I could’ve been here in second year, too.”
“Harry Potter? In Slytherin?” Zabini crowed, “Dumbledor would have blown a gasket!”
Snape studied Harry for a long time before muttering something under his breath and asking, “And why, pray tell, did you talk to the Sorting Hat in your second year?”
“Well I needed the sword of Gryffindor to kill the basilisk,” Harry shrugged.
“To-”
“You-”
“What-”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head, “How else was I supposed to stop it? Its corpse is still in the chamber, though I don’t know if it’s valuable at all. For potions or its venom, I have no clue.”
“Extremely,” Snape choked out.
“Oh,” Harry shrugged. “Alright then.”
In the end, Snape left with a promise from Harry that he would open the chamber for him sometime. He somehow got on a first name basis with everyone in the room, including Vincent- “Call me Vince.” Blaise, Draco - that was weird - , Goyle, and Theodore.
They were rather nice company, he begrudgingly admitted. They never once distrusted him when he talked about all he had done. They explained to him about dark magic, and even let him borrow a book, with curious glances whilst he was reading. There seemed to be an eager aura around Draco in particular.
But when they talked to him they never lectured him, or when they did, it was a lecture about different types of magic from a normally reserved Theodore, and never once felt like he was being mocked for his lack of knowledge. Hermione didn’t really seem mocking, per se, but more as if she knew she was smarter than him and didn’t expect him to know anything.
They made jokes, they laughed, they set up a nice little palette on the floor for him, they didn’t speak even once about blood purity nonsense, they sometimes talked about their parents and their views on Voldemort and were happy to listen to Harry when he explained what the man was like.
All of them looked horrified at the description, and it was safe to say that none of them wanted to become one. They had surprisingly vulnerable conversations, and finally went to bed at around three in the morning. It was a better time than Harry thought he could ever have.
Oh, the mention of him never having his vault key freaked out all of them, and they promptly said that was never supposed to happen and that he was technically emancipated now because of the Tournament and could press charges. He shrugged and agreed. It didn’t really matter to him, but he would go to Gringotts and check it out.
They talked about the Sorting Hat and how it could re-sort students if it wanted to, but it was very rare. Privately, Harry didn’t think he would mind getting resorted anymore. He wanted a space where he could talk about all of this stuff and be believed. He wanted a place where he could practice dark magic. He wanted… this. This easy comradery.
The Sorting Hat smirked on its shelf in Dumbledor’s office.
So the next day, they all headed down to breakfast, and informed the Slytherin girls about what was happening. Ron and Hermione were shooting him confused looks. Well, more like hostile ones. Snape didn’t look surprised when he gazed at the Slytherin table to find a speck of red amongst them.
Over the next few weeks, Harry learned that Snape wasn’t actually a bad person. He eventually had to go back to the Gryffindor dorms, which was hell on earth with how he had been hanging out with Slytherin. In the hallways, he was almost always with a Slytherin, to which Draco told him about how a Slytherin could never travel alone, and how Harry was basically regarded as one now.
Next month?
There was a loud thump against the doors of the Great Hall, and then suddenly they swung open to reveal a certain patchworked hat.
There was a shocked look on the faces of the professors, confused ones on the students, and definitely smirks from the Slytherins surrounding Harry.
“I think they’re gonna kill me after this,” Harry confided with a snigger.
“True,” Zabini replied with a grinning hum.
“But Harry, dear, the green is really going to bring out your eyes,” Pansy added.
“HARRY POTTER!”
Came the bellow. Silence.
Harry walked up to the stage and hopped easily onto it. Snape was hiding a grin behind his goblet. Dumbledoor had an… interesting look on his face. Umbitch looked peeved, but was writing something down on her clipboard.
He plopped onto the stool McGonagall transfigured with a sorrowful look on her face.
It took barely five seconds for the Hat to sit on his head with a gleeful, ‘I told you so.’
“SLYTHERIN!!!!”
Chaos.