the heir of something or other
dirgewithoutmusic
Summary:
When kids in the Slytherin Common Room tossed jeers at the pudgy feet of Millicent Bulstrode, Harry rose up to do something about it. This Harry, now one of Snape's own, got fewer House points lost but many more detentions– it had never been the colors on his hem that Severus hated.
This was not wishing Harry an easy path. This was not wishing the boy a warm House. This was Harry, three weeks in, sleep deprived and considering running away and going back to Privet Drive. This was Harry in the back of Potions class, blank-faced under Snape's disdain the way he'd perfected under the Dursleys's torments.
When Quirrell shouted "troll in the dungeons, thought you ought to know," and Harry overheard that there was a girl in the bathroom crying, he still ran off to make sure she got out okay. He hesitated first, at the back of the little pack of Slytherin first years (at the back so that no one could get behind him)– he hesitated.
And Millicent Bulstrode, who could never quite keep her tummy tucked in enough, could never brush all the cat hair off her robes, never quite keep her temper in check, hesitated, too.
Notes:
For thyevilqueen.
thyevilqueen asked: "I am in love with your "boy with a scar" series. Thanks so much for sharing your writings! I have commented on Ao3 as well, but I was wondering if you'd take a fic prompt? I am very curious what you think would've happened if harry never requested to be placed in gryffindor, so the sorting hat placed him in slytherin."
Work Text:
Yes! Let's say Hagrid got Harry a sundae and Harry, awestruck, lingered over it–- they were late to Madame Malkin's, passing Draco on his way out.
Let's say Harry got a little earlier to the station and didn't meet the Weasleys there. A big blond Hufflepuff with broad shoulders and a bright future showed him how to get through the platform wall–- Cedric Diggory was on route for being a prefect, and things like this were why.
Because what if Harry had gotten his House opinions from the song, instead of age-old conflict? Slytherin, where you'll make real friends. And this boy with nothing, this boy who latched onto the first kindnesses he'd ever seen, he thought yes that is what I want.
Slytherins–- this is a group who laughs when Neville falls off a broom and breaks his wrist. And what if we had Harry there, who had always been the one laughed at, who had a nice thirst to prove himself, who had green trim on his robes instead of red? This Harry still stepped out in front of Malfoy's best sneer and demanded Neville's Rememberall back–- though he got a detention from it, not a Seekership.
When kids in the Slytherin Common Room tossed jeers at the pudgy feet of Millicent Bulstrode, Harry rose up to do something about it. This Harry, now one of Snape's own, got fewer House points lost but many more detentions– it had never been the colors on his hem that Severus hated.
He got more bruises. Harry had barely even learned Wingardium Leviosa, but he was little, years of bullying under his skin, and he knew how to get up in people's faces, snap out insults, and kick their shins when it got bad.
This was not wishing Harry an easy path. This was not wishing the boy a warm House. This was Harry, three weeks in, sleep deprived and considering running away and going back to Privet Drive. This was Harry in the back of Potions class, blank-faced under Snape's disdain the way he'd perfected under the Dursleys's torments.
Slytherin was the house of cunning, of ambition–- but if you know better, the Hat will let you ask for something else. If you know better–- so Slytherin's dungeon was filled with the kids who thought blood purist sounded like home, with the children who didn't know better–-with children. The dungeon was filled with children.
