Let It Be Slytherin ⟶ A Harry Potter Time Travel Fic

Lily's Secret

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A castle away from James, Harry had a much less enjoyable night. After hours of waiting outside the Gargoyle at Dumbledore's office, McGonagall had arrived only to kick him out. Harry had tried to explain, but she had had little sympathy for him. Harry had been forced to hide out in the library, furious at Dumbledore for not only leaving him with the Slytherins, but disappearing for the entire freaking night.

Midnight found Harry equal parts angry and exhausted— and wondering how long he would make it if he decided to sleep in the room of requirement. Losing his patience, he slammed a title shut and glared at the resultant poof of dust.

The place was quiet this time of night, the lamps dim amidst hundreds of books. Harry slowly realized that the sun had long set and the chances of him reaching Dumbledore tonight had gone with it.

He was a Slytherin.

He would have to sleep in the Slytherin dormitories.

He would have to share a room with Death Eaters.

He would have to share a room with Snape.

Harry shelved the book forcefully and tried not to think of what that meant. What had happened? Hadn't Dumbledore promised him three months of time with his parents? Not three months trapped in the dungeons. Harry repeated Dumbledore's words again in his head. Dumbledore had apologized and offered to make up for past mistakes. He would never intentionally trap Harry here.

But even as Harry held on to that, he knew Dumbledore had said he remembered Harry being here. Which meant he would have remembered Harry getting sorted into Slytherin. And he didn't mention it to Harry, which meant it had to get resolved. Right?

Harry's thoughts wandered to Gryffindor tower and he imagined the Marauders, Lily, and the other students sitting in the common room, catching up on their summers. Damn it, he could have been there!

Harry wandered out of the restricted section and passed the current events. He had already read them all— newspapers all about Voldemort's rise to power. Here the headlines dated back to 1966, when things first began to ramp up.

"MAN FROM LONDON DECLARES HIMSELF LORD VOLDEMORT" one had read, with a photo of a handsome man in a suit. Harry didn't have to read the caption to know it was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Next:

"THE FUTURE OF MAGIC IN DANGER. SO-CALLED LORD VOLDEMORT DECLARES MUGGLEBORNS ARE DILUTING MAGIC".

And then:

"SNAKE INSPIRED "DARK MARK" FOUND OVER HOSPITAL; 3 DEAD, 15 INJURED".

All the same foreboding news, full of loud headlines and Death Eater attacks. The words of the prophecy danced around the back of Harry's mind.

Neither can live while the other survives . . .

Harry was fighting twenty years later and Voldemort still wasn't defeated. How was Harry supposed to do what decades of Aurors couldn't? What Dumbledore couldn't?

A wave of exhaustion hit him. He was so tired of the war. Tired of being the one in the prophecy. Tired of being the one who always had to fix everything.

Harry exhaled, struggling to control his emotions, and glanced around the empty library. The silence of the room was suddenly deafening, air humming through the ventilation system. 

Well, Harry thought. If anything had gone right in this time, it was that no one knew he was Harry Potter. Not even Voldemort. 

Harry held on to that reassuring thought.