Okay, I'd like to say that this is like my first multi-chapter fic, so anything you have to say about it would be fantastic.

This is slash, so, if you find it offensive, do not read. I repeat. If you do not like this, then do not read it.

Summary: Harry is thrown back in time to the MWPP era along with Draco Malfoy and Sirius Black (yes, OotP did happen. Don't ask) Not sure of the pairings yet, but, never fear, there will be slash. I promise.

Disclaimer: Whereas Mrs. Rowling gets money for her famed endeavors in regards to our favorite boy hero, I get none. This is because I do not own any copyrights of Harry Potter and its trademarks. Any other things that may pop up in here are most likely not mine either, so don't try to bitch me out about it.

(1) Refers to the first numbered Author's Note at the end of the chapter.

Slytherins Messing with Time
-Chapter 1 – Prologue-

Somewhere in Surrey, number 4 Privet Drive, to be exact, a boy lay on a bed with his eyes closed.

Now, normally, you would think him asleep, but that would just be impossible, for several reasons. If you were to look in the window, you would see a figure, size undeterminable from your place at the window, with his hands clasped in the center of his chest. Unusual sleeping position for a boy, but this could be waved off as an oddity; everyone has them. The hands, in all circumstances, should have been moving up and down with his breathing. You stare at his chest now, and see that it is not. Moving up and down, that is.

This boy had long black hair, the length of which shall remain disclosed until known, and which was spread across his pillow like a dark halo. Then skin on his face was extremely pale, though not translucent, and, against this contrast, a lightning bolt scar was above his right eyebrow, extending from just below the hairline to the brow. The boy had no shirt on, and you could see the scars that riddled his toned chest and flat, muscled abdomen. Most were old and faded, but there were a few that were still pink and fresh. He wore black silk pajama bottoms that revealed just the band of a pair of silver boxers that were worn underneath.

Suddenly the boy's eyes opened, and you could see intense emerald eyes, with catlike pupils. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. Six in the morning.

He sighed and exchanged his pajama pants for a pair of black basketball shorts. He had forsaken the shirt because he would be running, and would probably end up taking it off anyway. He slipped on socks and a pair of running shoes that he had bought the summer before, when he had decided something.

Now, to understand the significance of this statement, one must know more about this boy. This boy wasn't just any boy. He actually could no longer be called a boy, because he had turned 17 the month before. He was Harry Potter. Ordinary sounding to your ears, right? Wrong. Harry was a wizard. Well, not completely, but that shall be explained later. When Harry was only a year old, his parents, Lily and James Potter, were murdered by an evil wizard, named Voldemort, who believed Harry to be the child of the prophecy, stating that they would be equals, and that only one could kill the other. Voldie had to get rid of him; he could be his downfall! However, Lily had given her life for Harry, and when Voldemort shot the killing curse, Avada Kedavra, at Harry, it rebounded back on Voldemort, and he was killed, temporarily. Harry was named the Boy-Who-Lived, the only one to survive the killing curse, and the defeater of Voldie.

Harry was left at his Aunt and Uncle right after that Halloween, cursed until he was eleven to a life of abuse and loneliness.

His first year at Hogwarts, he was sorted into Gryffindor, but the Sorting Hat severely wanted him to go into Slytherin, which he begged it not to. He and his friends, Ron and Hermione, saved the Sorcerer's Stone from a non-corporeal Voldemort, stalling his comeback.

Second year. Harry discovered that he was a Parselmouth through a connection to Voldemort, which was thought to be an extremely dark gift, which allowed one to speak to snakes. Using this gift, he saved Ron's little sister, Ginny, from the Chamber of Secrets, which she had opened while possessed by the diary of Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort.

In his third year, Harry saved his godfather, who had escaped from the wizard prison, Azkaban, from dementors, the guardians of Azkaban. He had produced a Patronus, which was a highly difficult spell to ward of dementors.

Fourth year, he was entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. In the third task, Harry and another student were brought by portkey to a graveyard where the other student was murdered and Harry watched Voldemort be revived.

The next year, fifth, Harry had had prophetic visions of what Voldie was doing at the moment, which had gotten Harry lured to the Ministry of Magic, Department of Mysteries, along with several other students. Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, had fallen through the veil of Death, and was believed dead. Dumbledore had revealed to Harry the prophecy at the end of the year.

During the summer between fifth and sixth years, Harry had trained up on all magics, including the dark arts, working even harder when he realized that he could perform magic this summer because of the Ministry, apologizing from past mistakes, had granted him it. He had gotten himself a new familiar, a snake, to be exact, which he named Aryn. Aryn was a beautiful magical mix, that was silver with several black and green bands around her, and green eyes, like her master. Aryn was an incredibly poisonous snake, and would be great to defend him, should the need arise. Harry had gotten a whole new wardrobe (1), and received several tattoos and piercings. He now had a picture of a wolf, stag, and large black dog surrounding a lily flower, honoring his parents, and their friends on his lower back, and a snake tattoo that been around his bicep, but, apparently, he had too much magic in his body, and made the tattoos able to move around. His ears were outlined in silver studs; three on his upper right, four on the bottom, four on his upper left, and three on the bottom, and he had a barbell through his eyebrow.

When he got into sixth year, Harry spent the whole year training with Order members and Aurors, along with extra lessons with all of the teachers and Dumbledore. He had discovered over the summer the he was gay (2), so it was really no surprise to him when he got stuck under cursed mistletoe with one Draco Malfoy. That didn't move them into a romantic relationship, but they had become tentative friends at first. Eventually, Harry had even become an honorary Slytherin, and Harry and Draco were extremely close.

Now, I'm sure that you are wondering about the whole "mostly" part when I mentioned wizard. He is also, from a brilliant suggestion of the meddling Dumbledore, part vampire, meaning that he has some characteristics of them, like the sleeping schedule, senses, and part of the appearance. The only thing missing was the insatiable lust for blood, fangs, and sensitivity to the sun.

Right now, our young hero is about to go back to Hogwarts for his seventh year, in a few hours. He is running around the neighborhood, as he is careful to do since the summer before, and turns around.

When he reaches the house again, he stepped into the shower, and sighs, as the warm water massaged his sore muscles after the hour long run.

Ten minutes later, he stepped out of the bathroom in a towel, stepping across the hall and into his room. Another five minutes later, he emerged in a pair of low riding black jeans and a Linkin Park (3) t-shirt, that has "In the End" printed diagonally on the lower half of the shirt in blood red writing. Collecting his toiletries from the bathroom, he packs them in his trunk after brushing his long, shoulder length black hair quickly.

Harry reached for his wand and slips it in the wand holster he got from Ron for his birthday that is disillusioned so that no one else can see it. He pulls out a black leather sheath from his trunk and attaches it to the belt on his pants, after depositing a dagger in it. Flicking his wand at his trunk, and opening it again, he waves it again so that all but one of his books are shrunk, then stacks them at the bottom of his trunk. He shrinks his whole wardrobe, as it is much easier than shrinking the clothes and losing some. Looking around the room and adding any other stray things to his trunk, Harry nods, clearly satisfied. Brandishing his wand for the last time, he shrinks his trunk and puts it in his pocket.

He looks at his watch on his hand – 9 o'clock. He still had one hour left, so he read the book that he left out. The book was a book of poetry that he put together himself. As he skimmed through it, one caught his eye.

Fate Tricked Destiny

A little girl who fears the light
And a small boy who lacks delight
Their lives are horrible, pain as a rage
Emotions, they know naught about and cannot gauge

These poor children, how could you treat them so?
If this is how you are, then please, let me go!
My mind tempts me, and from the darkness, I resign
The children, oh, the children, I want them to be mine

So I can save them from this torture
Save them, find a cure!
But you wouldn't want that, would you?
No, this is what your good intentions grew

So much bad
Surely could not bring peace, he is only a lad!
Curse you, and I watched as you fell
You manipulator, yet you refuse to yell!

Lose your temper, let it be gone
And yet, you calmly lay out on your lawn
The monster, I know you are
Denial, thy name is lost far

For no one believes in higher beings, such as Death
But don't forget about Envy, influenced by wealth
But Fate is the worst, and you know this
And yet, you sentenced them, Fate, and all they do is hiss!

And I, Destiny, pity them, for you have gone too far
There is no return, no way to fix it, to lower the bar
They are cursed, why you can't understand, I will never know, just see!
And you, Fate, tricked Destiny, and my plans will never be

That one had been written right after fifth year. He was stewing in his anger at Dumbledore, how he trapped Harry with his abusive family, and how he meddled in his life so damn much. Thinking back now, it still brought a surge of anger, but, at least, now, Harry could understand why Dumbledore had done that. Harry shakes his head to get out of the reverie from the past and looks back at his watch. It read 10 o'clock. Time to go.

Harry gathered Aryn from where she was curled up on his pillow, let her wrap around his waist, and walked down the stairs, whistling a rather upbeat tune as he reached the bottom and enters the kitchen. His beefy uncle, humongous cousin, and thin aunt all sit at the table.

"Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, I'm leaving. I hope I never see you again, and if I ever have the misfortune, well… watch out," Harry said stiffly, though the last part was with such venom that even Uncle Vernon shuddered.

Harry walked a few blocks so he could summon the Knight Bus without arousing suspicion.

You would now have to walk down to the compartment at the end of the train to find Harry, where he was laughing with his Slytherin friends. Having left the compartment Ron and Hermione were sharing with him when they started spontaneously snogging; he thought that he had nothing better to do.

Just as he was about to lean over to ask Draco when the snack cart would be coming, the door burst open to reveal a panting Ron.

"Harry! What are you doing with these slimy Slytherins!" Ron was obviously not happy about his friend's choice in inter-house relations. He, as only the brashest of Gryffindors could do, drew his wand and was met with several more wand tips pointed at him, waiting for him to even open his as if to hex one of them. When he did, all of the wands' owners sent different spell, mixes of defensive charms and mild hexes mostly, as Ron sent his own. Nothing could be heard, not the spells being called out, but everyone heard the impact of the spells, felt the explosion, and saw the blinding light.

When they looked around, neither Harry nor Draco was there.

1 - sorry, I'm not good with clothes, so I'm not going to explain this part

2 - I hate it when people just say that, but, hey, I can't think of a better way to say it

3 - I know they didn't get big until almost 2000, but, whatever, let me have my moments

Soooo, how am I doing? Review! puppy dog eyes and pout

Also, I don't know if I'm going to keep the title. I'm not particularly fond of it.

And, how was that poem? Wanted to find a way to slip at least one in. I wrote that, by the way. nudge