#Slytherin!Harry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tommarvoloriddlesdiary · 1 year

Text

By the time it’s through, Harry is a panting victorious mess.

He swears some Gryffindors get dumber by the year. They were pulling the same stunt at every start of the term. I mean, Harry scoffs and thinks to himself, they couldn’t even have been bothered to pick a different corridor. It astounds Harry how persistent their hatred of Slytherins—of him especially, remains even after all these years.

Like, so what? He can talk to a few snakes, and he’s alright at quidditch, and, yeah, he defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort when he was a baby and then sorted Slytherin at eleven. It’s not like anyone told him it was some cultural taboo to accidentally end a war and sort into the mass murderer’s Hogwarts House.

Honestly, Harry has a sneaking suspicion that even if someone had told him, he’d of ended up in a similar, if not worse, situation. So he’ll take the yearly Gryffindor smackdown any day.

Surveying his handiwork, Harry gives a pleased nod to nothing in particular. These six definitely need the medi-wing, but, seeing as Harry was slighted from the Head Boy position and finishing off his final year at Hogwarts as a mere seventh-year prefect, he figures this can slip under his radar. Of course, it’s not good to slack on the first week back, and usually Harry frowns at anything of the sort, but six to one is his new personal best. So, this little lapse in duty can be a small treat for a job well done.

The pep to his step and smile on his face certainly agree with Harry’s decision as he does an about-face and walks a few paces only to come toe to toe with their latest Defence professor.

Shite.

Harry’s face shutters and he freezes in place. There’s no way he can talk his way out of this. But, more importantly, what the hell is he going to do about a bloody witness.

In the haze of panic, Harry has enough sense to correct his posture quickly. He straightens up, shoulders back, hands clasped behind him, and speaks politely, if a little blandly, “Professor Riddle.” Harry bows his head in what he hopes comes across as a sign of respect and not the blatant attempt to hide his wince that it is. How could he have been so careless?

Professor Tom Riddle is the hot new thing in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not only for the ne’er-do-well gossip mongrels but also just- generally. He’s incredibly attractive and incredibly unknown. Sure, he has more than enough qualifications for the position, but no one has any useful information on the man other than the fact that he might have been a Slytherin in another life. And that’s only because he’s got a pet snake slithering about, allegedly.

All of that to say: Harry has no idea how his new professor will react to this. But it’s vital that he keeps his head down this year; nothing can come between him and freedom from the Dursleys. Especially not a little roughhousing with a few morons. If Professor Riddle punishes him with a detention or eight, it will be a low blow but bearable— and if he brings what Harry’s done to the Headmaster…

Harry is certain expulsion will be considered with a heavy hand. Headmaster Dumbledore did not like Harry one bit.

“Harry Potter,” Professor Riddle’s voice is deep and just on the edge of lilting. It’s a nice voice, Harry’s shocked to acknowledge. His lessons will be a huge step up from Snape’s temporary claim of the role. Thank the gods they forced him back to Potions. Though, Slughorn’s lessons and overall attitude were pleasant while they lasted.

They both stood without saying another word in tense silence. Well, tense for Harry. He’s not too sure what’s rattling around in Professor Riddle’s head that’s keeping him so quiet.

Actually, Harry couldn’t imagine being on the other end of this scenario. Like, what would he do if he’d come upon some kid, who by almost all accounts was the supposed saviour of the wizarding world, beating the shite out of six Gryffindor students? Harry doesn’t think he’d handle it as well as Professor Riddle seems to be. In fact, maybe they should both take a cue from Fake-Professor-Harry and just pretend this never happened.

Harry’s neck is just starting to strain from its lock level with the floor when Professor Riddle speaks, “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

His head snaps up at the pleasant, almost jolly tone. Professor Riddle is staring out into the courtyard, eyes glued to something far, far in the distance. Completely ignoring the six injured students mere metres away.

Dumbfounded, Harry replies, “It’s evening.” And it is evening. Harry tries to look out at whatever has Professor Riddle’s steadfast attention and can’t pinpoint a damn thing. It’s dark as all hell out there. Finally, in the awkward pause, Harry finds the wherewithal to look back and tack on a belated, “Professor.”

Professor Riddle’s eyes slip to Harry’s face, but his head remains still, and Harry comes to the startling realisation that this is meant to be an act. Anyone passing by, or any nosey portraits, would still believe him enchanted by the courtyard and not confronting a rogue student.

“I know you’re socially inept, Mr Potter. But you are not stupid.”

And with that charming, hissed comment, Harry turns about-face once again to also fake watch the courtyard. “Why yes, sir. Very lovely.”

“It seems,” Professor Riddle starts up again, “in my vacant-minded appreciation for this beautiful day, I have forgotten some paperwork in my office. Could you spare a moment to accompany me?” Harry hears the loud and clear statement as what it is: a demand.

“Of course, sir. I happen to be returning to the common room and going that direction regardless.” Harry is oddly proud of the truth of this. He is technically done with his prefect rounds now, anyhow.

“Very good. Come along.”

The walk to Professor Riddle’s office is long. It’s made longer by their run-in with a few of the Hogwarts Ghosts. Peeves has always had this odd tolerance for Harry that he’s gladly taken advantage of more times than he can count. Something about his father and his father’s friends, the best group of pranksters to ever walk these halls! or whatever. Harry’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, their slight distraction with Peeves has nothing on the Grey Lady’s interaction with Professor Riddle.

She never takes an interest in anyone outside of her little Ravenclaws if Hermione is to be believed. And Hermione is rarely ever wrong. So Harry is on the deep end of surprised when she floats down the other end of the fifth-floor corridor, sees them coming, and waits. Ghosts can’t really be described as warm— unless you were talking about the Fat Friar, and only then because, even as a ghost, he appears to be wearing too many layers for this time of year— but the Grey Lady’s soft eyes for Professor Riddle is a near thing.

“Tom,” she starts as Harry follows his professor’s lead and stops to greet her. “You’re back.”

Harry tries to keep as quiet as a mouse because he very desperately wants to know what she means by that, and he doesn’t think she’s even realised he’s here yet. Harry doesn’t even think he’s ever heard her speak before, either, but her voice is as soft as her eyes. Dainty like bells.

“Yes, Lady Ravenclaw. It has been a long time.” Professor Riddle seems pleased she remembers him. But… Harry can’t put his finger on it. Something just feels off. His neck prickles with that alert sort of awareness, the kind he’s never really been able to break since he was a kid—that prickle of danger.

Grey Lady nods, “Nearly three decades.”

Three decades? Hell, that’s a long time. How old is Professor Riddle anyway? He doesn’t look a day older than thirty, but unless Grey Lady knew him pre-birth, Harry would have to reevaluate his perception of wizard ages.

Harry is vaguely aware that this is all none of his business, and he really shouldn’t be standing here listening closely and pondering on whether or not Professor Riddle was a good Ravenclaw back in the day. But knowledge is power, right? As an obvious Ravenclaw Alumni, Professor Riddle would appreciate Harry’s retention. And since Harry still has no idea how he’ll react to the little skirmish from earlier, looking out for possible blackmail wouldn’t be amiss.

Professor Riddle looks surprised, “I don’t recall speaking with you the last time I was here.”

“Because you didn’t,” her reply is simple and to the point. Not said with any ounce of anger. It’s undoubtedly spoken with a fair amount of weight, however.

Harry hasn’t spent six, going on seven, years in the snake pit not to pick up on her clear underlying message: you didn’t see me, but I saw you. And even though it sounds like a threat, Harry is confident she only means it as a warning. A warning for what? Harry hopes to find out.

“How terribly remiss of me,” Professor Riddle shakes his head as though ashamed. “We should rectify this, of course, and speak at length when you have the time,” his accompanying smile is bright and charming. Harry almost wants to whistle in appreciation. That is some fine schmoozing if he says so himself.

But Grey Lady doesn’t respond. Instead, she floats on, and as she passes Harry, her shoulder phasing through his, he can’t help noticing her stricken face. The purse to her lips and the translucent grip of her hands, it’s almost like she’s scared.

Harry watches her go, still for a touch too long, and Professor Riddle clears his throat, “If you’ll continue following me, please, Mr Potter.”

His attention snaps back to the professor, “I had no idea you were a Ravenclaw, Professor Riddle.”

Professor Riddle looks very amused for a moment. Then, he continues walking and asks, “Whatever gave that away?”

Harry is immediately suspicious, “Ravenclaw’s Ghost. She doesn’t speak with anyone outside of her House. Even the professors have a hard time catching her attention unless they are one of her past students.” When Professor Riddle doesn’t respond right away, Harry adds, “For example, she didn’t acknowledge me once during your conversation.”

“That is true,” he nods, and that strange amusement lingers on the edges of Professor Riddle’s lips. They don’t speak for the remainder of their walk, though it isn’t without Harry trying.

Really, Harry hasn’t met anyone this paranoid in his life— maybe Moody, but the Auror is in a league all his own. However, Professor Riddle isn’t far behind, acting as though even the floors have ears. Or, at least, Harry assumes it’s paranoia stopping the Professor from answering. Maybe he’s just fed up with Harry’s questions…

As they enter the Defence classroom, Harry takes in the changes. Each Defence Professor certainly came with their own flair. Lockhart with his vain decor and opulence, Remus with his purely educational and scientific creatures posters and skeletons, Moody with his nearly claustrophobic clutter of dark curse detectors and jars of worms and bees, Umbridge with her bare-walled bleakness almost as though she could be the only thing of note in the room, Snape with his… well… Snape-ness—no one was surprised to come into the drawn curtain, candle-lit, gruesome pictured room last year.

Professor Riddle is an interesting mix, Harry thinks. Not over the top with gold and silver or anything like that, but there’s definitely a lustre to everything that speaks of fine quality. There’s a nice variety of defence posters, all topics from creatures to spells to stances to potions. How refreshing after the gloom of Snape. It’s brighter in here, Harry notes. Even in the late hour, the warm glow of the room is inviting.

Harry carefully tucks away the sight of a large empty vivarium for later questioning as Professor Riddle shows him up the staircase to his office.

“Have a seat, Mr Potter.” Professor Riddle rounds his desk, a simple wooden piece, large and already strewn with papers, and takes a seat. Harry follows suit, taking in his office with much less attention than the classroom. If only because it seems Professor Riddle hasn’t finished setting it up to his standards. Piles of books sit abandoned by the many bookshelves covering one wall, and a fair amount of boxes are open and unopened in each corner.

Harry takes a deep breath and readies to defend himself. He thinks he’s got a pretty reasonable defence (pun intended) for his Defence Professor. Even if the man has heard of Harry through gossip rags like Witch Weekly and the hardly-a-news-source Daily Prophet, Harry figures he’s still got the benefit of the doubt.

Unless, of course, Professor Riddle had strong affiliations during the war. That could always go either way. Harry’s met some pretty chill Voldemort supporters over the years and some pretty not-chill ones. The Malfoys, for instance, treat him like a second son, and Harry’s mostly sure that’s only because they think him the next Dark Lord or something. Whereas Theodore Nott, and probably his whole family, definitely hates Harry’s guts for killing Voldemort.

“Professor Riddle, about what happened earlier, I can explain—“ Harry starts and is near immediately cut off.

“You’re quite gifted in spell casting, aren’t you, Mr Potter?” Professor Riddle leans back and crosses his legs, hands in his lap. Okay…he doesn’t look like he’s about to get Harry expelled… And is that a compliment?

“Uh,” Harry stutters. He’s still not good with praise; it’s still so foreign to him. “I wouldn’t use that word, Professor. But thank you.”

Professor Riddle shakes his head, “It is nothing to thank me for if it is a fact. When I was accepted for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, I first requested a list of all the students and their academic placements.” He pauses to shuffle the papers around on his desk until he pulls out one long parchment, “Four years straight, you held the top of the list in Defence for your year, and your Ordinary Wizarding Levels were exemplary even though you appear to have barely scraped by in fifth-year with a Dreadful.”

Professor Riddle glances up at Harry with a world-weary look, “I have speculations about why you placed so low the last two years. A Troll for sixth-year? With the casting I saw? Highly unlikely.”

Harry blinks, “Oh,” is all he can muster. Welp, that answers how much of the duel Professor Riddle had seen. And, surely he didn’t have all the Hogwarts students’ placements memorised so thoroughly? Is it just his seventh-year classes? Is it just Harry?

For the first time all evening, Harry is struck with the sudden question: why was Professor Riddle in a random seventh-floor corridor, anyway?

Now, Harry can say what he likes about paranoid people being paranoid. Unfortunately, it didn’t mitigate the fact that Harry was a touch paranoid himself. And, even though Professor Riddle hasn’t come off as anything less than concerned-professor-addressing-his-student, Harry still hasn’t quite gotten over that prickle of danger back with Grey Lady. It would be absolutely batty to think Professor Riddle was following him, or whatever, but now that Harry’s thought about it, he can’t stop thinking about it.

“That is just Defence. You have placed consistently in the top 10 of almost all your other classes since you arrived at Hogwarts,” Professor Riddle rolls up the parchment and sets it aside. “Divination and you do not seem to agree, however.”

Harry can’t tell if Riddle is impressed, surprised, or both. Honestly, he’s kind of busy scoping out any easy exit points now that he’s spiralling down the my-new-defence-professor-might-be-stalking-me rabbit hole. Harry lets out a strained laugh and hopes that’s enough of an answer.

“You appear to be a bright young man, so why did you feel the need to fight six Gryffindor students after curfew, Mr Potter?”

Indignant, Harry decides to shelf his panic attack for later, “I didn’t feel the need. This is a yearly thing they like to do. They’ve decided they are within their rights to punish me for my audacity to sort Slytherin when I was eleven and enjoy cornering me during my prefect rounds.”

Riddle arches his brow, “This has been going on for years?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve not gone to your Head of House?”

Harry nearly scoffs, “Snape and I do not get along.”

“Professor Snape, Mr Potter,” Riddle’s amused smile is back in full force.

Harry presses his lips into a thin line and counts backwards from ten. Twice. “Of course, sir. Professor Snape and I do not get along. He tolerates me on the best of days and probably plans out my murder in vivid detail on the worst.”

Peeves may love Harry’s father. Snape decidedly didn’t. Hardly fair, if anyone asked him, that he has to take Snape’s shitty abuse just because he looks like a man he’s never met.

Riddle nods and tilts his head. He’s silent for a moment before he asks, “And do you like Slytherin House?”

It’s such an out-of-left-field question that Harry gapes for a moment. He pulls himself together enough to give it some serious thought. Does he like being a Slytherin? He’s never been anything else, so it’s hard to say. It was pretty shitty in the beginning. Being ostracised for doing something he didn’t even remember or know about until a month before school while also adjusting to a totally new concept like magic being real was kind of awful. And he wouldn’t recommend it. Still—

“Yes,” Harry answers passionately and wholeheartedly. “I love it. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

And he means it. Because even though first-year had its fair share of torture, it was also magic. It was walls that opened with a whispered word revealing a room with a sea-floor view and green velvet sofas, it was his very own room after years of sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs, it was his first friend and his first laugh, it was wands and potions and spells and charms and magic.

Riddle does seem surprised now, as though he expected Harry to give a very different answer. His quiet turns thoughtful for a long, long while, and Harry wonders how long their meeting will drag out. It’s well after curfew and prefect hours now, isn’t it?

A dragging sound pulls them both from their silence.

Harry’s eyes quickly lock on a stack of precariously stacked boxes. They move slightly as though pushed and wobble dangerously. After a few moments of nothing, a large snake head appears from around its corner.

And that answers Harry’s question about the empty vivarium in the classroom.

The snake’s scales against the stone floor are what make the dragging sound as it carefully moves closer and closer to Harry. A quick glance at Riddle shows that he has no intentions of stopping it; great. In fact, that amusement is far too obvious once again.

Belatedly Harry realises the snake is sort of massive, far longer than any snake he’s ever seen. Including that one ball python at the zoo. The snake’s body gracefully adjusts as it creeps up and up and up until its head is level with Harry’s. A cool forked tongue quickly brushes against his cheek. Harry blinks, wide-eyed.

“Excuse Nagini, Mr Potter. She’s just curious.”

Harry knows he shouldn’t say anything. He knows it’s too risky to reply because he can’t quite control his parseltongue in front of snakes, but he can’t just sit here and not say anything. He’s still trying to get out of expulsion and maybe even a few detentions, after all. So he looks very hard at Riddle and desperately hopes the man won’t act too cruel if Harry slips up, “It’s-s fine, s-sir.”

Harry winces. Even he can tell his s sounds were a little too harsh just then, and Riddle’s brown eyes sharpen at the curious drag of his voice.

Riddle leans forward, elbows on the desk, hands clasped together, and tilts his head. “That’s right. As a Slytherin, you must not mind snakes. Comes with the territory?”

“You could,” Harry swallows, “s-ay that.” He grits his teeth. Hope is a lie. He needs to get out of here.

Somehow Riddle leans ever so closer, “It’s interesting. I was under the impression that her presence here might cause a great disturbance. Headmaster Dumbledore was very worried about student safety and their reactions.”

Harry pauses. His eyes drift back over to Nagini. What? Wait, “Student safety?”

Suddenly Riddle is up and standing. It startles Harry more than he’ll ever admit, and while he’s distracted by that, Nagini rests her large head on his shoulder and inches her way behind his neck, “A speaker? You speak parseltongue, young child?”

Riddle quickly rounds to the front of his desk, his fingers tapping a pleasant little rhythm across it. He finds a comfortable spot and casually leans back against it, arms crossed. Harry’s thigh is almost brushing the long line of Riddle’s legs. Harry wants to die, just a little.

“Mr Potter, Harry,” Riddle says his name like a curse and a blessing and very, very different from how he’s been saying it all evening. A chill runs down Harry’s spine.

Nagini interrupts before Riddle can continue, “Are you cold, young child? Tom, the boy is cold. Warm him.”

“My snake seems rather taken with you, Harry,” Riddle carries on, completely ignoring Nagini and her demands. Which makes sense because Riddle doesn’t speak parseltongue, but Harry is sorely tempted to laugh at how she sounds so used to bossing Riddle around. He doesn’t scream doting pet owner, but maybe Harry’s got a bad read on him. Or maybe the fear and adrenalin are making Harry fucking crazy.

And when did he become Harry and not Mr Potter?

Harry coughs, focusing all his attention on Riddle once more, “Cool. What concern did Dumbledore have for the children?” Nailed it.

Riddle’s answering smile is large and closed-lipped. He’s not laughing, but it sure as hell feels like he is. “Headmaster Dumbledore, Harry. And it is nothing to worry about, as I have taken measures to keep you all safe. Nagini just happens to be rather poisonous; her venom is capable of killing a man in less than a minute.”

Huh. Harry suddenly doesn’t feel all too thrilled about having Riddle’s rather large, potentially man-killing, and weirdly mothering snake getting all cosy on his shoulders. Even now, she’s still hissing nonsense words of concern and praise, and really, Harry’s not been paying too close attention to her out of fear of messing up again.

Harry nods as slowly and carefully as possible. “I get why he’d be a little worried.”

Riddle hums, not necessarily agreeing, not necessarily disagreeing. “Back to our original topic, I will not be reporting your altercation with the Gryffindors.”

The fierce surprise waging a three-way war with suspicion and hope in Harry’s chest is enough to leave him breathless. How the hell did he get this lucky? “Thank you, I really appreciate it—“ Harry stops himself from adding an instinctual sir.

Harry sits uncomfortably in the realisation that Riddle is definitely laughing at him as Riddle’s brows inch up. Harry sighs and says, “s-sir.” He clears his throat.

“Apologies, Harry. It is quite late, is it not? I wouldn’t want to keep you; the term officially starts tomorrow, after all.” Riddle straightens up from his lean, and he’s closer now than he’s ever been to Harry.

“One last thing,” Riddle says, and his hands curl around either side of Harry’s neck. Harry is dizzy in the stifling nearness. Riddle’s not touching him, but the warmth radiating off his body and hands burns until Harry is certain there’ll be blisters.

Riddle carefully takes Nagini from her perch on Harry and wraps her gently across his own shoulders, “In exchange for my silence, I expect us to meet here once a week. Outside of our class time. I shall wait until you get your timetable before picking something suitable for us both.”

Harry’s eyes are glued to the floor when he says, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Harry.”

Harry’s neck whips up at breaking speed, and for just a split second, hardly a blink, Riddle’s eyes are a scolding red.

Harry blinks once, twice, three whole times before he manages a desperate, “Yes, Professor Riddle.”

Riddle’s answering smile is the cat’s canary, and Harry certainly feels like prey to a predator right now.

#tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #pov: harry #4.1k words #chapter 1 #my fic #slytherin!harry #professor!tom | voldemort #fic: what's lost (what's gained)#i have nothing to say i don't even know where this came from

415 notes · View notes

jungkooks1mp · 10 months

Text

POV : Slytherin Harry 🤌🏼

I was kinda inspired by @l0vegl0wsinthedark ‘s prompt about Slytherin!Harry and Ravenclaw!Draco and I will most definitely be drawing Draco next 🤩

#drarry #drarry fanart #harry james potter #harry potter #harry x draco #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hpdm #slytherin #slytherin!harry #slytherin harry #draco x harry #draco lucius malfoy #salazar slytherin #digital art #procreate #draco malfoy

273 notes · View notes

takearisk-xo · 6 months

Text

blondie released 1989 (TV) and i literally had to finish this. i was not given a choice in the matter. and since the au seems to be a favorite, here is more of my hand's at risk (i fold) aka slytherin!harry originally written for #severalsunlitdaylights & @corneliaavenue-ao3 Day 5: 1989

Harry fiddled with the clasp of his cloak, doing everything in his power to not look nervous even though his insides were tied up in knots.

A few students mingled about in the Entrance Hall, waiting for friends or housemates to either go into breakfast or head down to the village. Most cast him cursory glances as they passed, while other gazes lingered. Harry tried to pay them no mind, but with nothing else around to occupy his attention, he found himself growing more and more agitated by it.

It was, unfortunately, a well known fact among the sixth and seventh years that this Hogsmeade Saturday would be Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter's first date. Which left far too much room for whispers and rumors to circulate in the days leading up to the weekend. Harry had been blissfully unaffected by most of it, as the trade off was that he got to walk Ginny to class and spend most of his free time with her in the Library. However, as soon as he dropped her off at her classroom or said his goodnights outside the entrance to her dormitory, the stares and gossip would rush back in.

Alongside this annoyance, existed his other complaint: Since their very public beginning, he and Ginny hadn't ever actually been alone.

continue reading on ao3

#hinny #severalsunlitdaylights #hinny fic #harry/ginny #harry potter #ginny weasley #my hand's at risk (i fold)#slytherin!harry #my fic #my edit

82 notes · View notes

thenicestthingiveseen · 4 months

Note

I WOULD LIKE A LIFE OR DEATH MID ACTION KISS PLS AND THANK YOU

I'm so sorry this took five million years. I hope you enjoy it!

#hinny #writing #prompts #takearisk #fic #seventh year au #slytherin!harry #requests and prompts

31 notes · View notes

fan-goddess · 1 year

Text

What if a Slytherin was picked as Hogwarts champion instead of Cedric Diggory?

Here is the original Pinterest post I got the idea from: https://pin.it/46UnRD6

Here is my masterlist with my other content: here

———

Harry Potter had never met nor heard of Barnaby Thorn before he was chosen as the original hogwarts champion. He was a fifth yeah, the same as Cedric. Yet all seemed to groan when a Slytherin was chosen to represent hogwarts.

The Slytherins all cheered though when one of their own was called. Snape even let a smirk befall on his face before letting it go back to its neutral expression.

———

When the first task was going on Harry had decided to let Barnaby know about the dragons. When he approached him the Slytherins all looked at him distastefully. Yet Barnaby only looked curious. “Hey um, Barnaby can I speak to you? In private…” Harry was surprised he had agreed as quickly as he did. After he told him about the dragons Barnaby looked almost genuinely frightened. “Are, are you sure?”

“Yes I am. I’ve seen them and I know that Fleur has been told. Meaning there’s also a high chance Krum knows too. I didn’t want to leave you to be the only one…”

Barnaby shocked Harry by smiling at him thankfully before placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Well thanks Potter. For not being prejudiced and stuff. Also I’m sorry for the badges. I tried to get my mates to stop wearing g them. I’ll make it up for you when I can though yeah?” He soon left after that in the direction of the library while his friends followed quickly behind to ask why Harry was talking to him.

———

In the second task, Barnaby realised quite quickly what the meaning of the egg was and quickly returned the favour to Harry. He told Harry what exactly he needed to do with the egg with a small note.

Potter, open it underwater. Told you I’d make it up for you when I could yeah?

When Harry looked up he already found Barnaby looking at him expectedly nodding silently before returning to a conversation.

Barnabys person in the lake was one of his best friends Juno James. He had used a bubble head charm and offered to go back into the water to help Harry but his other friends wouldn’t allow him nor would the teachers. Though when Ron and Fleurs sister came out of the water Barnaby was their to pull them out and give them his blanket. That was the act that earned Hermiones respect and gratitude, as well as a little bit of Rons.

———

When the Yule ball was happening, lots of girls asked Barnaby to be their date, yet he rejected them all. There was only one girl he wanted to ask to the ball. His long time crush. Helaena Jones. A fifth year Ravenclaw who just so happened to be a muggleborn. Still, Barnaby didn’t really care much about his reputation. He asked her with some lily of the valleys one afternoon and she said yes. He even based his suit of her dress (it was navy blue). They danced all night and even talked a little with the other champions. Though by the end of the night, Barnaby was sitting with Helaena their feet aching like anything. Barnaby took his chance though as he tucked her loose hair behind her ear and kissed her. It was easily Barnabys favourite nights of his life. He could not stop smiling as the girl he fancied for ages kissed him back.

———

During the third task Barnaby practised as many spells as he could with both his mates and his new girlfriend Helaena, who’d agreed to go out with him a little after the ball.

He even managed to conjur a patronus by thinking of when he kissed Helaena and got the opportunity to tell her how he felt. His patronus is penguin. Barnaby got really confused why Helaena was laughing about it so much.

When Barnaby was going through the maze he didn’t want it to be a tie, but he didn’t want to leave Harry behind and just so happened to touch the cup at the same time anyways.

———

In the cemetery, Barnaby is prepared with his wand at the ready and back to back to Harry. He thinks it is just another part of the maze designed to test their reaction on their feet. Voldemort kills Barnaby Thorn with zero remorse as no matter what blood-status they are, no matter what house he was, all that mattered was that he was the spare and wasn’t supposed to be there.

Harry brings back Barnabys body in tears and Helaena is the one who screams at her lovers corpse. She is the one who runs to him with zero hesitation and cries for him as she hold onto her lover for dear life. The slytherins are silent as they mourn for one of their own. They realise even if they are pure-blood slytherins, they are not safe in this war.

———

In Harry’s fifth year he takes notice how the Slytherins are acting more defiant that year. More and more Slytherins are wanting to join Dumblsdores Army and even Goyle, a once loyal son of a death eater, is bringing Harry to the side after a lesson asking how he can help. Even offering to be a mole in Umbridges inquisitorial squad.

Umbridge loses all notiriarity within the slytherins when she says Barnabys death was an accident. They all gain respect for Harry when he sticks up for Barnaby saying how he was murdered. They all liked him as even if he wasn’t a traditional slytherin he helped make people believe not all slytherins were bad.

———

Barnabys death was the first official casualty in the war and the Slytherins do well to not let others forget it. When the war is happening, many slytherins are helping muggleborns by forging them into their family trees. Juno James, who in their first year stated firmly that they hated ‘mudbloods’, is claiming Helaena Jones to be their second cousin.

Slytherins are teaching first years on how to pretend to be under the cruciatus curse so no one needs to torture eleven year olds. They teach other students how to make the wrong gesture subtly enough so the carrows don’t notice the wrong movements. They lie to the carrows with silver tongues and hearts made of solid steel.

When the war came to hogwarts McGonnigal ordered Filch to send the slythsrins to the dungeons, yet the other houses all protested. Staring with Helaena Jones and the first years who owe their lives to the slytherins.

The younger Slytherins were taken to the evacuation tunnel. Though many stay to defend the castle with their friends. Slytherin or not.

Many slytherin children fought their parents in the battle. Juno James was forced to battle his mother who disowned him on the battlefield. Helaena Jones though went against Barnabys Father. She cried as the saw the resemblance of him and his son and knocked him out. When Voldemort stood opposite them encouraging for the slytherins to come forward as he shall show mercy to his fellow Slytherins, they all stay with their fellow pupils. As where was this supposed sympathy for Barnaby Thorn? Who was a slytherin and a pure blood.

The slytherins may have been the most untrustworthy house in Harry’s third year. Yet by the war they all faught tooth and nail because Hogwarts was their home too.

#harry james potter #goblet of fire #harry potter and the goblet of fire #Barnaby Thorn #oc #alternate version #alternate Harry Potter #harry potter au #no Cedric diggory #hp #hermione granger #ron weasley #slytherin #slytherin!harry #aegon ii targaryen x reader #slytherin!reader #ravenclaw!oc #slytherin!oc

143 notes · View notes

dewitty1 · 3 months

Link

Evitative

Vichan @k-vichan

Chapters: 29/29 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Pansy Parkinson & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Blaise Zabini Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Sirius Black, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass Additional Tags: Slytherin Harry Potter, Dark Arts, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Dark Harry Potter, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Alternate Hogwarts House Sorting, Re-Sorting, Dark Magic, Slow Burn, Slytherin Pride, Protective Slytherins, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Bigotry & Prejudice Series: Part 1 of Mutatum

Summary:

In the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry is drawn to a room in Grimmauld Place. Like the Gryffindor he is, he enters the room without fear. The room is a library, and Harry is surprised to find that he’s eager to learn.

Then he gets the bad news: he’s been accidentally expelled from Hogwarts, and he needs to be sorted again. Everyone is confident that he’ll go straight back to Gryffindor, but with what he's been learning, Harry’s not so sure.

(ノﾟ∀ﾟ)ノ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

Excerpt:

“We’ve been up all night,” Draco said. “You’re exhausted. We don’t have to figure this out right this second.” He then gently pulled Harry over to his bed before sitting on the edge, pulling Harry with him. He drew his wand and began fixing Harry’s hand.

As Harry watched his broken skin knit up before his eyes, the gentle touch of Draco’s fingers against his own brought his conversation with Hermione swirling back into his mind.

Harry swallowed hard, lifting his eyes from their hands to Draco’s face. Draco’s eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, a stray lock of blond hair falling in his eyes, his lips working as he cast Episkey after Episkey, and his pale eyelashes were just so damn long.

Draco Malfoy. Draco, who had thrown caution to the wind and accompanied Harry to the Ministry simply because Harry had insisted on going, had done the unthinkable and chosen Harry over his own father. Now, instead of worrying about what he and his mother were going to do now that his father was headed for Azkaban, he was completely focused on Harry’s self-inflicted injuries.

Draco Fucking Malfoy.

Without even fully realizing what he was doing, Harry raised his free hand and brushed the stray lock of hair behind Draco’s ear.

Draco paused in his ministrations, his silver-grey eyes flickering up to meet Harry’s.

Throwing caution to the wind, Harry’s hand slid to the back of Draco’s neck and he gently coaxed him forward, while at the same time he leaned in.

Their lips met, and the first thing Harry thought was that Draco’s lips were incredibly soft. For someone who was as sarcastic and pointy as Draco was, it almost made no sense that his lips would be so soft.

And then Draco’s lips moved against his own.

Warmth spread through him, and he was only faintly aware of Draco reaching out and pulling on his collar, drawing him closer. The mattress underneath him shifted as they gravitated towards one another. Harry raised his other hand to cup Draco’s cheek, tangling his fingers in soft, silky hair.

Lips moved against one another, then tongues, and Harry shuddered pleasantly as they imitated each other’s movements.

It was his first kiss and Harry had nothing to compare it to, but he could definitely understand why some couples couldn’t seem to keep their lips off of each other.

Finally, and at the same time altogether too soon, Draco pulled back, sucking just a bit on Harry’s lower lip as he did so. “Not that I don’t appreciate it,” he whispered against Harry’s lips, “but what brought this on?”

“Hermione,” Harry responded, feeling like something in his brain had short-circuited.

“What?” Draco asked, drawing away so he could look Harry full-on in the face. He scowled. “You’re kissing me while thinking about -”

“No!” Harry said. “She just… she pointed out that I… might have a thing for you. And that you might have a thing for me, too...”

Draco’s expression melted into amusement. “You…” He shook his head. “I invited you into my bed, had you sleep next to me, and just now you realize that I have a… ‘thing’ for you?”

“Uh,” Harry said sheepishly. “Well… as Hermione pointed out, I had an awful lot on my mind this year…”

“You’re a moron, Scarhead,” Draco said. His hand drifted upwards to grasp Harry’s still-injured one. “And did you just get blood in my hair?”

“Uh…” Harry’s eyes flicked upwards. “Yes.”

Draco smirked and leaned forward. “You owe me for that, you realize,” he said. “Though I suppose I owe Granger, as well…”

Harry’s laugh was cut off as their lips met again.

(⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡

#Evitative #Vichan #Drarry #Drarry fic rec #Fic rec #Hp fic rec #harry potter #Slytherin!Harry #Draco Malfoy #Harry potter Fanfiction #Drarry fanfiction #Hp fanfic #drarry fanfic #Hogwarts #Hogwarts Fifth Year #hp #Carey's bookmark fic recs #Carey's personal Bookmarks #Long post

12 notes · View notes