Harry Potter and the Darker Path

Chapter 13: The Slytherin Legacy

The train ride back to London had a different atmosphere than when Harry had first arrived at Hogwarts. Instead of the anxious, wide-eyed boy stepping into the unknown, he was now someone who had faced things few wizards his age could imagine—someone who had stood before the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale. He stared out of the window of the Hogwarts Express, watching the rolling hills and distant mountains pass by, lost in his thoughts. 

Sitting across from him in the compartment, Draco Malfoy leaned back casually, flipping through a copy of *The Daily Prophet*. Harry had grown used to his presence over the last few months, their uneasy truce evolving into something that resembled camaraderie. Not friendship—Harry wasn’t sure if he could call it that—but they understood each other in ways that only fellow Slytherins could. 

“You’ve been quiet,” Draco remarked, glancing up from his paper. “Still thinking about what happened?” 

Harry didn’t reply right away, but Draco didn’t press him. Instead, Harry turned his attention to the faint reflection of his own face in the train window, his scar just visible beneath his unruly hair. 

He hadn’t told Draco everything—not about what he had seen in the Mirror of Erised, nor about Voldemort’s attempt to tempt him with power. Those thoughts, those doubts, were his alone. But Harry knew that his actions had changed things, not just in how he saw himself, but in how others saw him too. He was a Slytherin now, through and through, but he wasn’t sure yet what that truly meant. 

 A Different Kind of Legacy 

As the train chugged along, Harry thought back to the conversations he had overheard in the Great Hall. Students had been buzzing with rumors of what had really happened beneath the trapdoor—some thought he had fought off a dragon, others whispered that he had stolen the Sorcerer’s Stone for himself and then decided not to use it. In Slytherin, ambition and power were respected above all else, and his housemates now regarded him with a mixture of awe and suspicion. 

But the most unexpected thing was Snape’s reaction. Harry had caught him staring across the staff table during the end-of-term feast, his dark eyes narrowed as if trying to decipher Harry’s every thought. There was a grudging respect in Snape’s gaze, but also something deeper—curiosity, perhaps, or wariness. Snape was a Slytherin through and through, and he had seen the same ambition in Harry that he saw in himself. 

Dumbledore, of course, had been different. He had awarded Harry fifty points for his bravery, but there had been no grand speech about sacrifice or the power of love this time. Instead, Dumbledore had looked at Harry with an expression that was hard to read, as if he knew that Harry’s journey was only beginning. 

 The Ambition Inside  

“You’ve been distracted ever since Dumbledore gave that Stone back to Flamel,” Draco said, breaking the silence. “You think you could’ve done something with it, don’t you?” 

Harry turned to face him, surprised by how well Draco could read him. It was true—part of him still wondered if he had made the right decision. The Sorcerer’s Stone had been within his grasp, and for a moment, he had considered keeping it, using it to elevate himself in ways that others could only dream of. The thought still lingered in the back of his mind, like a whisper of temptation. 

“What would you have done, Draco?” Harry asked finally, his voice low but steady. “If you had the Stone?” 

Draco’s eyes flickered with interest. “I’d have kept it, of course. Made sure no one could take it from me. Immortality, unlimited wealth—who wouldn’t want that?” 

Harry smirked, but it wasn’t a warm smile. “And what would it cost you? Who would you become?” 

Draco shrugged, leaning back. “Does it matter? Power is what counts, Potter. Everything else is just noise.” 

But Harry wasn’t so sure. Power was important, yes, but he had learned something during his first year at Hogwarts—there were lines that couldn’t be crossed without losing part of yourself. Voldemort had crossed that line long ago, and Harry had seen firsthand what that kind of ambition could do.  

 Letters and Shadows 

As the train continued its journey, there was a soft knock on the door of their compartment. Pansy Parkinson appeared, looking as though she had something important to say. Behind her stood Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode, their eyes fixed on Harry. 

“Potter,” Pansy began, her voice unusually polite. “We’ve been talking. About what you did… with the Stone.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow, sensing that the conversation was not just idle curiosity. Slytherins rarely did anything without an ulterior motive. 

“You’re famous now,” Pansy continued. “Even more than before. And Slytherin needs people like you. We don’t want to be second-best to Gryffindor again.” 

Blaise nodded in agreement. “You could lead us, Harry. Next year. With you, Slytherin could take the House Cup and more.” 

Harry glanced at Draco, who was watching with mild interest but said nothing. For a moment, Harry considered Pansy’s words. Slytherin had always been about ambition, about power. And there was something undeniably alluring about the idea of leading the house to victory, about being the one they all looked up to. 

But then he remembered the look in Dumbledore’s eyes, the unspoken challenge in Snape’s. Harry wasn’t just any Slytherin—he was Harry Potter. His path would never be as simple as winning House Cups or gaining influence at school. There was something larger waiting for him, something darker, and he would need more than just ambition to face it. 

“I’ll think about it,” Harry said finally, his voice calm.  

Pansy smiled, though there was a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “We’ll be waiting.” 

 Summer Awaits 

The train pulled into King’s Cross Station, the platform bustling with students saying goodbye. As Harry and Draco stepped off the train, they found themselves standing next to Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s father. Lucius looked down at Harry with an expression that was difficult to read—cold, calculating, but with a hint of approval. 

“So, this is Harry Potter,” Lucius said, his voice smooth but sharp. “I’ve heard much about you this year.” 

Harry met Lucius’ gaze, feeling the weight of the man’s words. He knew that the Malfoys represented a certain kind of power in the wizarding world—one that was tempting, but dangerous. 

Draco smirked at Harry. “See you next year, Potter. Don’t forget, we’ve got big plans.” 

As Draco and his father walked away, Harry stood on the platform, watching them disappear into the crowd. He knew that next year would bring new challenges, new temptations, and even greater dangers. The question was, how would he face them? Would he continue down the path of ambition and power, or would he find a way to balance it with the lessons he had learned about loyalty, bravery, and self-sacrifice?  

The summer stretched ahead of him, full of uncertainty. But as Harry glanced at the waiting Dursleys, he knew one thing for certain—he would never be the same boy who had left them at the start of the school year. He had changed, and so had his world.  

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was now a Slytherin. And the journey ahead would be unlike anything he had ever imagined.