Disclaimer: I do not and will probably never own Harry or any other part of his deliciously fantasy oriented world. But I wish I had a snitch, the fun I could have with one of thoseā€¦

~Weathered Creed~


Harry stared out the window, vaguely aware of the biting wind as it cut through his robes and froze him to the bones. It was Christmas holiday at Hogwarts and most everyone had left for home this year. All, except Harry. He was in his seventh year: seventeen, tall, and lanky with sleek hair, and piercing green eyes matured with the terrible weight he carried. He was marked man.

Sighing resignedly, the teen slipped from his windowsill perch and shrugging out of his night robe climbed into bed. Staring at the ceiling of the Griffindor boys' quarters he willed himself to sleep. Waking little more than an hour later he got up and paced the room agitated.

Entering the common room he muttered a spell and sitting down in a comfortably plush chair, watched the flames lick greedily at the dry logs. He watched it for hours, listening to the fire crackle contentedly the wind howling in the background. Summoning a blanket from the cupboard he wrapped himself, trying desperately to escape the cold that plagued him.

But it wasn't from the frigid winter night, that this coldness came, rather it was from him. His heart was trying to protect itself from another assault like the one that happened in his fifth year. It protected him the only way it knew how, by shutting everything else out. No longer seeking friendship or camaraderie, Harry had blocked out his friends in sixth year, and now as he faced his last year at Hogwarts his heart was beginning to block out everything. All emotion was being forgotten all feeling was leaving him. But he didn't care. If anything, we was more than happy to prove Dumbledore he wasn't human. He didn't want to be anymore. It hurt too much. He walked the corridors like a shadow, a reflection of what he had been. A tainted reflection.

As he slept, lost to the world of reality in a world of dreams and terrors a silver mist appeared from nothing, swirling strangely in the light. As the fires dimmed in the hearth, the silver mist thickened, condensing into the form of a man. He stood tall; hair black as night and green eyes glittering in the shadows. He said no word as he waved his hand and the silver mist appeared again, this time surrounding the still form of Harry Potter, tendrils of smoke rising from the fireplace. The form uttered a silent word, barely a whisper, and the two vanished from sight, from Hogwarts, from the living.


Blinking back the sleep, Harry tried to focus his vision and unconsciously moved his left hand to the dresser that usually held his glasses. But halfway there his hand froze he didn't need glasses anymore. The summer of his sixth year had seen to that. A few brief memories of Hermione flicking her wrist and pronouncing an incantation flitted across his mind before he pushed them away. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he sat up, struck dumb by the sight before him.

The room was lavishly furnished with green, silver, and black colors. Slytherin colors. The furniture was rich oak and dark cherry wood that gleamed with perfection. The bed he sat on had black satin sheets and an ornately designed comforter. His feet brushing the floor he could feel the deep, plush carpet covering the stone floors. Wide-awake now, Harry stared at it all, bewildered.

"Your awake" Mildly surprised; the raven-haired teen regarded the man in the doorway. He was tall, with long black hair that grew past his waste and green eyes that glinted like emeralds. He seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place his face.

"Where am I?" his voice sounded loud, though he spoke in barely a whisper.

"My home" the man answered bitterly, staring malevolently around at the room and it's lavish furnishings.


"Why not?" he countered, unconcerned.

Harry thought about it, mentally shrugging. Why did he feel so at ease here? Shouldn't he be worried? In a house with a strange man obviously obsessed with House Slytherin wasn't normally where one planned on waking up over Christmas holiday.

"Who are you?"

"Salazar Slytherin and you, Septimus, are my heir"


I know it's short, it's a prologue what did you expect? * stupid grin * More to come, please stay tuned and all that nonsense