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Chapter Text

Chai & Liabilities 

Standalone: I wanted to read an entertaining Slytherin Harry. Couldn’t find anything that wasn’t a straight retelling or a power fantasy. This can be read on its own.

AN: I’m gender fluid and I support my trans sisters and brothers, many of whom I met through the Harry Potter community. 

Dyslexia: Somedays, I still can’t spell it well enough to check the definition in a physical dictionary.

Prologue

Albus Dumbledore had told a total of four people that Harry Potter had been kidnapped and was likely dead. Those four people, Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Severus Snape, and Minerva McGonagall, had been secretly searching for signs of James’s son along with Albus for six long years. They had all agreed that after the sorting, if Harry Potter had yet to appear, he would be declared dead.

Albus had been so certain he was keeping the boy safe, but it seemed that all Albus’s aspirations for the child would end in ash.

Chapter 1 - Auror’s Son

Harry held onto his father in a tight embrace, knowing all too well that depending on what name was called tonight would decide their family’s fate.

John Dawlish, Harry’s stepdad, John, was shaking his head when they finally parted, “You two always warm my heart.”

His dad, Drake Dawlish, ruffled Harry’s head, “Stay safe, Harry.”

“Come on, love, the train’s about to leave,” John said, putting an arm around his husband’s slimmer waist.

“Stay safe, Dads,” Harry told them both. “I love you!”

“We love you too!” his dads replied over the whistling of the train.

Harry pushed his trunk ahead of him, Hedwig’s cage in his free hand.

His dad blinked back tears as he blew Harry a kiss like some of the mothers were doing.

“Here, let us help you with your trunk,” a voice greeted him, turning Harry’s attention away from the open door as the train started forward on the tracks.

“Thanks,” Harry said as two red-headed boys helped him with his things, though Harry clung to Hedwig's cage, declining the hand that offered to hold her for him.

“Fred–”

“George–”

“Weasley,” they answered together.

“Pleasure to meet you, Harrison Dawlish,” he returned, cautious not to use his nickname at least for introduction.

As far as the Wizarding World knew, aside from Dumbledore, Harry Potter would be attending Hogwarts this year.

Fred smirked, “Ah, an Auror’s son. Our dad says your dad has been super excited about you attending Hogwarts.”

Harry smiled, “Your father works in the Department of the Misuse of Muggle Objects, right? Dad's always saying how underfunded he is and that the Law Enforcement Department would run smoother if Mr. Weasley had a bigger staff.”

They both beamed at him.

“Oh, I think we like him, Fred.”

“Indeed, I think we do, George.”

“See you round, Dawlish,” they said together before saluting him and leaving Harry alone in the train compartment.

Harry took a breath and tried to calm his nerves. Excitement and fear warring inside of him.

Going to Hogwarts was a massive risk.

Harry and his Dad had been lying to the world for years because people like Dumbledore would never let Draco Malfoy, an ex-Death Eater and time traveller, keep Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

It would ruin everything in their lives if their backgrounds were discovered. Harry’s adoptive family, his dad, Aunt Andromeda, Uncle Ted, and the Tonks’ Family dog, Snuffles, knew the truth.

Harry still had nightmares about those people.

He still remembered the ravenous pit in his stomach and the ache through his entire body, the eternal cold in his bones.

Despite being a metamorphagus, he couldn’t erase the belt scars on his back from his once uncle’s beatings. Harry’s cousin, Nym, said it was because he couldn’t let go of his fears yet, while his Aunt Andromeda said it was because he wasn’t as powerful as Nymphadora, which was objectively true.

Harry’s powers were far more passive, his hair and eye colour would forever mimic his father’s.

Sure, he could turn his hair blue if he wanted, but his hair would always revert to the moon-blonde of the hero.

Harry knew that he and his dad had alter egos, ones they needed to hide even from his stepfather, John Dawlish.

 However, while John knew that Dad had been a Death Eater, he did not know that he had married a time traveller or the son he adopted was rescued illegally.

Probably, the only reason Auror John Dawlish didn’t know was because Dumbledore had chosen to hide from the public that Harry Potter had been missing since the day that Drake Evans and Harrison Evans appeared in the Wizarding World.

Also, John was desperately in love with his husband and would never willingly believe the worst of him.

So yes, depending on the name called at the Sorting, Harry could be separated from his family, and his dad would have to go into hiding. Unfortunately, Harry was too powerful to stay home, and if anyone investigated their past too deeply, then they would face the same consequences.

The goblins had legally changed their names after Dad and John got married; they were betting on whatever magic existed at Hogwarts, the registry would only recognise the name, Harrison Dawlish.

That was their only hope.

Now that he was on the train, it felt like a terrible gamble.

The compartment door was ripped open, and two boys entered. After a round of introductions, Harry learned that they were Seamus Finnigan and Ron Weasley.

“You're the Auror’s son,” Ron said.

“Susan Bones is in our year too,” Harry remarked, though he was far from offended.

John was an Auror, but in a past life, Dad had been an Auror too. Today, he was a Master Potioneer who worked with Aunt Andromeda to supply places like St. Mungo’s.

Ron waved it away, “Still, I wish my dad was an Auror.”

Harry decided he didn’t like Ron as much as his older brothers, but aloud he said, “My father is pretty cool.”

“What House do you think you’ll be in?” Ron asked. “Not Slytherin, obviously.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Harry asked.

“You're an Auror’s son,” Ron said again as if that explained everything.

“So? My Aunt was in Slytherin, and her daughter’s in the Auror program. Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt is second to Amelia Bones and he was in Slytherin.”

And my dad used to be an Auror.

True, Harry knew that a future him had been sorted into Gryffindor, but he also could speak to snakes, so what House he was in never seemed like a big deal.

He sort of expected to be sorted into Hufflepuff like his Cousin Nym.

“Oh,” Ron said lamely, “I didn’t know. Just.. Slytherin is sort of dark.”

“Bad people come from all Houses,” Harry argued. “Because they are people.”

“Right,” Ron said, lamely, his cheeks flaming red from embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“Still, Slytherin House is the worst,” Seamus said with conviction.

Harry was not going to be making fast friends with anyone, it seemed. He reached for his bag and pulled out a book, tucking himself against Hedwig’s cage, so he could see out the window when he looked up.

Harry tried to tune out Ron and Seamus who were animatedly talking about the return of the Boy-Who-Lived.

He tried to ignore the churning in his gut.

He didn’t make it far through his book, Hogwarts: A History.

oOo

Hogwarts was more than Harry could have ever imagined.

But his heart pounded inside his chest like a rabbit caught in a snare.

The mantra that followed him as they all lined up waiting to be sorted was that ‘D’ came before ‘P’.

If his legal name wasn’t called, he would have time to brace for impact.

Maybe he would even have time to make a run for it.

But just as he was panicking, after Davis, Tracy, who was sorted into Slytherin, Professor McGonagall called for Dawlish, Harrison.

Harry felt his breath release, reinforcing his mental shields. He looked up at the staff table, who looked on with no particular interest.

Not even Albus Dumbledore tried to catch his gaze.

Harry sat on the stool and the hat immediately fell over his eyes.

“Ah, what great walls you’ve built, Harry Dawlish,” the Sorting Hat said into his mind, though Harry was holding onto his shields so tightly that the voice sounded a bit muffled.

Harry thought back, “ Never too soon to learn to protect yourself.”

“You have secrets,” the Hat said.

Harry didn’t reply. What was he supposed to say to the Headmaster’s servant?

“Unfortunately, there is only one House in Hogwarts where you may keep your secrets and make true bonds and friendships. So let it be–”

“SLYTHERIN!” the Hat announced.

Harry let out a breath and was grinning by the time he reached the table, being cheered on by his new housemates.

He sat down next to the newly sorted Tracy Davis, who smiled at him kindly.

Harry was already drafting his letter home.

They were safe.

They would remain a family, whole and complete.

oOo

Draco cried like a baby when he got Harry’s letter.

Unabashed tears fell down his cheeks as relief overcame him.  His fears could now be set aside, and no one was going to rip apart his family.

Not the Dark Lord.

Not Albus Dumbledore.

John took the letter from his hand, giving it a glance before setting it aside on the coffee table and pulling Draco into a hug.

John was a large man who worked out enough to stay fit but was mostly built for giving the best hugs.

“Slytherin’s not that bad, Drake,” John whispered, rubbing his back.

Draco choked on a watery laugh, hugging his husband.

His husband.

His honourable, foolish, and unfaltering husband, whom he no longer had to say goodbye to.

John had been sorted into Hufflepuff, and he was as much of a true-hearted Puff as Amelia and Ted.

Draco had told him the worst about himself, that he had been a Death Eater, and John had loved and pursued him anyway.

Yet Draco still didn’t want to force him to choose between his loyalties.

John was atrocious at telling lies and keeping secrets, and his best friend, Kingsley Shacklebolt, worked for Dumbledore, while his other best friend was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

While Draco might be certain his husband would choose him and Harry in the end, if John acted on his first instinct of obeying and enforcing the law, or asking his friends for support, Draco would be locked up, and Harry would be taken back to his horrible bloodkin by Albus Dumbledore.

When Harry came of age, Draco had sworn to himself that he would tell John, consequences for his own freedom be damned.

Until then, though, they were safe.

They were all safe.

John kissed the top of Draco’s head, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Draco finally managed to say. “Nothing at all. I just love you and Harry so much. So very much. I would do anything for this family.”

Including kidnapping and lying to the man I married.

John hugged him tighter, “And we love you so much. I know it’s going to be difficult when he is gone, but Harry is going to do wonderful in Slytherin.”

Draco pulled back, wiping at his tears to look up at his handsome husband, “Of course he will, he’s our son , also, he can speak to snakes.”

John laughed, and Draco’s spirits lifted further.

oOo

AN: Thoughts, red foxes, or requests for future chapters, pretty please?

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: Fanfiction is not my style of writing and though I want to linger in scenes, a huge issue for my own enjoyment of Slytherin Harry are how long they take. So freaking long. The deep plot doesn’t start until year four where this will slow down, until then, we are the first track.

Also Harry is eleven, please forgive the more simple language and reasoning XD

Chapter 2 - Teamwork

Harry was amazed by the castle and he absolutely adored the underwater view of the lake.

Aquariums had always been his favourite places to visit. So much so, John had taken him and his dad to other countries, including America to go see them.

Whale sharks were amazing.

The lake wasn’t quite that cool, but Harry was overjoyed when his bed was near one of the windows.

To one side of him was Theodore Nott, someone his Dad had warned him about, and on the other Blaise Zabini. The other boys had a separate room as it seemed three was the maximum.

The minute the door was closed, Theodore fell back on his bed with a groan filled with so much emotion, Harry couldn’t begin to interrupt.

Blaise sniggered, “What did your dad say?”

Theo lurched up and pitched one of the decorative pillows over Harry’s head at Blaise. “You know what he said, you twat. But it doesn’t matter, I’m free of him till summer. And he’s delusional if he thinks I’m going to be sending him updates.”

Blaise snorted, “Like he cares now, the Potter boy will be declared dead or missing tomorrow.”

“Thank Merlin,” Theo said, flopping back on the bed.

Harry’s heart lurched, “You want another boy dead?”

Blaise waved his hand, “Don’t be dramatic, Auror’s son. Theo’s father is a fanatic and now he no longer has to spy for a lost war.”

His Italian accent added to the mockery of the last part.

Theo flipped Blaise off and Harry swallowed a smile.

Maybe in his father’s universe, Theodore Nott was destined to be a Death Eater, but right now, he was just a kid who found a place to call home away from his blood family.

That Harry could relate to all too easily.

oOo

Harry adored his classes, which wasn’t surprising. He had been hungry to learn magic since the day his dad rescued him from the Dursleys.

Charms was by far his favourite and Transfiguration was challenging but rewarding.

He was super excited about Potions as he was determined to make his father and Aunt Andromeda proud, both of them were renowned Master Potioneers who had taught Harry more than just the basics.

Professor Snape was a vaguely unpleasant person, but Harry liked the way his cape moved.

No wonder people called him the dungeon bat, that didn’t make the cape thing less cool.

It reminded Harry of Batman, or like one of Nym’s favourite movies, the Phantom of the Opera.

“Let’s see who considered to take this subject seriously by deigning to crack their open textbook over the summer,” Snape drawled. “What would I get if I added a powder root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry and a Gryffindor girl raised their hands.

She was faster, but Snape called on Harry first.

“Mr. Dawlish.”

“Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death, Sir,” Harry answered.

Snape inclined his head, “Correct, ten points to Slytherin.”

Harry had only gotten five points from Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick.

“Where would you find a bezoar?” Snape asked the class.

Again, Harry raised his hand, and again, the Gryffindor girl was faster.

Snape looked down his nose at her, clearly, a bias wanting to call on Harry again, a student from his own House. 

Reluctantly he asked, “Miss…”

“Granger,” she said primly. “Hermione Granger, Sir. And you would find a bezoar in the belly of  a goat and it can save you from most poisons.” She smiled smugly at Harry.

“Correct,” the Professor said. “Five points to Gryffindor.”

“Hey, that isn’t fair–” Ron Weasley spoke up.

Harry disagreed, if only because all the other professors had given the Slytherins less points than they had rewarded Ravenclaw so far.

“Minus five points from Gryffindor for speaking without being called on, Mr. Weasley,” Snape said immediately.

The whole Gryffindor side glared at the redhead or shrunk in on himself.

Not vaguely, Harry decided, this professor was a distinctly unpleasant person.

Snape continued, “What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Harry made sure to raise his hand first, meeting Granger’s gaze as he did.

Her dark eyes sparkled with challenge, and Harry knew then that this would be a yearlong competition between them.

Too bad for her, in this class, he by far had the upper hand.

“Mr. Dawlish,” Snape called.

“Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite,” Harry answered.

“Another ten points to Slytherin,” Snape drawed. “Why aren’t the rest of you writing that down?”

Granger seemed annoyed that the professor didn’t ask for another question but she held her tongue as she furiously wrote down in her notes something she clearly had already memorized.

Harry sort of liked her.

Baise patted his back, “Good job, Dawlish.”

Harry raised a brow, “No more ‘Auror’s Son’.”

Blaise shrugged, but it was Theo who said, “Doesn’t matter, Slytherins stick together, no matter what.”

Harry was both comforted and a bit disturbed by that statement.

oOo

THE BOY WHO LIVED: DEAD?

“Quite the headliner,” Draco said as he started the kettle.

John sighed, “It’s a rather trite article, no information other than Harry Potter not showing up to Hogwarts and Dumbledore having nothing to say about the matter.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Draco muttered.

John rolled his eyes, “By the way, you’re never going to guess who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.”

“Quirrell,” Draco guessed.

“Nope,” John said, smug about knowing something Draco didn’t.

He stuck his tongue out at the smug bastard before pouring the boiling hot water over the ground coffee beans.

John’s laughter was more fulfilling than the aroma of coffee in their cozy kitchen. But that happy feeling was sharply punctured when he learned just who would be teaching his son for the next Hogwart’s year.

oOo

John Dawlish had been married for three years, and an active part of Drake and Harry’s lives for five years now.

John was happier than he could ever remember being, even in the bittersweet aftermath of sending his adoptive son off to school for the first time.

He wasn’t expecting to walk into a warzone when he passed the sound shield to his joint office.

Amelia and Kingsley were his best friends, the three of them had been close since attending Hogwarts, and John could count on one hand the number of times they had actively raised voices at one another.

“I am your second, your best investigator, and I’m telling you, the boy disappeared into the ether. There was no sign of a struggle, no forced entrantry, no magic dedected in the entirety of the suburb. For all intense purposes, the child left with nothing but the shirt on his back,” Kingsley was explaining, for what sounded like not the first time.

“Yes, my second. You lied to me! You kept this from me! John’s husband is right, your one of Dumbledore’s dogs.”

“Amelia?” John asked.

She spun to face him but pointed at Kingsley as she accused, “ He knew! He knew that Harry Potter has been missing, for years.”

John gaped at his friend, “And you didn’t tell us?”

Kingsley threw up his hands, “And let the world know? Let every free Death Eater know the Boy Who Lived was outside of our protection?”

“But we wouldn’t have told anyone,” John argued.

Kingsley rolled his eyes, “You’re Hufflepuffs, it would have gotten out, and I did everything that could be done to find him. I even worked with the muggle police, nothing. Harry Potter didn’t show up at Hogwarts and he’s been missing for six years. The data suggests he is dead. Killed by a muggle kidnapper.”

“I could have kept a secret,” Amelia said.

“You were just promoted,” Kingsley said. “You eventually would have felt obligated to report it.”

“I could have kept it secret,” John said.

Both Amelia and Kingsley gave him disbelieving looks.

“What?” John challenged, offended.

“You told us your boyfriend, who you wanted to propose to, was a werewolf, then you told us he was a Death Eater who had escaped notice of our legal system, the one we represent and work for,” Amelia said.

“How long after learning those things did you wait to tell us?” Kingsley asked. “A week?”

John felt his cheeks heat.

Truthfully, he hadn’t made it full day. 

“That doesn’t count, I haven’t told anyone else, and neither have you,” John said.

Amelia huffed, “You’re both proving my points. John, you can’t keep secrets from the people close to you, and despite being the Head of the Department of Magical of Law Enforcement, I didn’t arrest your future and current husband. Translation, Kingsley, you could have told me.”

“Dumbledore thought–”

“Dumbledore is a busy-body who placed the Boy Who Lived with those muggles and in doing so, got the child killed before he could even attend for Hogwarts. Lily Potter may have died killing the Dark Lord, but her sacrifice was made pointless by meddling of that tottering old fool.”

Kingsley sighed, “None of this will bring Harry Potter back.”

“No,” Amelia agreed. “And the world is a darker place for it.”

John thought of his own son, his own Harry, and regretted that he was off at Hogwarts were John couldn’t keep him safely beneath his wing any longer.

oOo

Harry hadn’t thought too hard about what subject his sudo-grandfather would be teaching when he spotted the long blonde hair at the staff table last night after the Sorting. It was, of course, Defense Against the Dark Arts, because what else would an ex-Death Eater want to teach?

His dad had warned him that Snape was a Master Legilimens and he worked for Dumbledore, something Harry had successfully kept out of his mind, thanks, in part, to Hermione Granger.

Harry didn’t know if Lucius Malfoy was equally talented in the mind arts, but what Harry knew about him wasn’t much safer to his well being. Lucius Malfoy was a true hearted supporter of the Dark Lord.

Naturally, this was the moment when the professor’s gaze narrowed on Harry with a mix of emotions in his steel grey eyes. 

Who Harry was probably didn’t matter as much as who he looked like. Harry’s hair remained curly, unlike his dad’s straight blonde hair and he could tan where his father burned without sun-lotion. Other than that, however, Harry looked near identical to Draco Malfoy, the son his professor had lost.

And with them both in the room together, Harry was certain that he wasn’t the only one who noticed that John Dawlish looked like a miniature version of Lord Malfoy.

The professor certainly noticed, and didn’t seem to appreciate the reminder of the five year old son he had died by unknown, yet magical, causes.

Unfortunately, Harry knew the cause, and knew that cause to be himself.

In travelling back in time, by choosing to stay to save Harry, adult Draco Malfoy had over written his younger self.

When they said ‘Bad things happen to wizards who messed with time’ they weren’t kidding.

Professor Malfoy began his class much the same way as Professor Snape. While his robes didn’t ripple around them, they were clearly expensive and the click of his cane against the stone floors as he stalked in front of the tables was a bit chilling.

His words glorifying the Dark Arts was a little sick when you knew his criminal record.

“Given your age,” the professor said. “The best you can hope for is to cause a distraction and running away. You have neither the power, the control, nor the wisdom to counter hexes or curses in an active duel. Your curriculum requires that you learn some counter-hexes, which I  will teach you. However, preliminary, you will be learning to defend yourself in this class, long enough to get yourself to safety.”

Harry was surprised by this take, at the practicality of it.

But perhaps, if magic had fatally taken a child from them, any professor would prioritize safety.

The first hex they learned was the jelly-leg jinx which they practiced on storks.

Storks that got truly angry when they failed a student.

Professor Malfoy threw up shields around the room to protect students from the enraged birds.

“You must work as a team if you wish to stay safe.”

Harry and Theo gaped at the man, both of them exchanging looks.

Crabbe and Goyle were the only other two children of Death Eaters in the class, but they were unphased, having been working with each other from the beginning.

Weasley looked shocked by this too.

But Granger immediately joined forces with Patil and Longbottom.

Harry was the first to manage the jinx.

“Ten points to Slytherin, Dawlish,” Professor Malfoy said.

Granger glared at Harry, her bird having fallen when the professor turned his back to look at Harry.

Blaise managed to get one leg of his and Theo the other before turning on Theo’s crane.

This earned them another ten points for teamwork, infuriating the Gryffindors as Patil and Granger took down two more birds without a single point earned.

It basically solidified the competition between Harry and Miss Hermione Granger.

oOo

Draco was surprised but relieved when a school owl arrived quicker than Hedwig could have returned with news from Harry.

“What do you mean!?” Draco yelled at the letter.

John who had been peacefully drinking his coffee, nearly spit it across the table.

“What!?” John exclaimed, nearly tipping the table as he scrambled to stand. “What happened!? Is Harry okay!?”

“It’s Lucius Malfoy,” he said. “He’s… he’s…”

Draco couldn’t fully process it.

“What!?” John asked, crowding around him, both to offer comfort and read over Draco’s shoulder. “Is he torturing kids? Do I need to call Amelia? Why does Dumbledore keep hiring Death Eaters!? No offense, love.”

Draco shook his head, “Lucius… he’s promoting…”

John held onto Draco’s waist, “The Dark Arts!?”

“Teamwork,” Draco breathed.

John froze, before gently lifting Harry’s letter from his hand.

“Draco, love, why is this a problem?”

Draco spun to face his husband and gripped him by his uniform lapels, “It’s unnatural. It has to be a trap of some kind, a trick! Lucius Malfoy doesn’t care about other people! Certainly not children. He never should have been allowed in the school.”

John set aside the letter to give Draco his full attention, “Love, Lucius Malfoy had a son who died of a mysterious illness. They believe it was a blood curse, is it so unthinkable that the man had a change of heart after such a tragedy?”

Draco hugged John, hating to be reminded of blood curses.

His first wife had died prematurely a few short years after they were wed. He had spent years in this second life working with his Aunt Andromeda and successfully created a cure so the Greengrass family would never have to suffer the same heartbreak.

Astoria would grow old now, without ever having met Draco, and he could only think of how fair the cost was.

But John didn’t know Lucius; there was no change of heart for Lucius Malfoy, only a change of priorities.

His father loved only the things he possessed.

His name, his reputation, his legacy, and his money.

Draco knew this because he and his mother had been mere extensions of those things.

If Draco being fed to Fenrir Greyback’s pack for a night of punishment couldn’t change the man’s heart and loyalties, than he knew, he knew , that his death wouldn’t have changed anything.

Lucius Malfoy had changed, the only question was if his bitterness had shaped him to be more ruthless or more reckless.

Draco’s bet was on both.

John squeezed him tighter, “It will be okay. Malfoy has more gold than friends and the former won’t help him with Dumbeldore.”

Draco sighed, fearing there was nothing that could be done about Lucius until it was far too late.

oOo

AN: Thoughts, seal pups, or reactions, pretty please?