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Title: Salazar Slytherin Chapter 2: Into the fight! (Go in and win?)
Author: Sirei
Translator: Part-Time Irish
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Salazar Slytherin/OC, Helga Hufflepuff/Rowena Ravenclaw
Spoilers: Some general things from the books

Summary: A Harry is Salazar story. Starts with PS and is supposed to go through the other books, but the author abanodoned it.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 2: Into the fight! (Go in and win?)
The Dursley family could be described with one word: Boring.

It wasn't like Harry had anything against boredom or boring people, as his life was anything but and he sometimes wished it was a bit more boring, but the Dursleys were playing in a completely different league.

This was because that their normality was solely the result of Harry's actions and efforts. Neither the lawn in front of the house nor the flowers in the backyard were planted or cared for by Vernon or Petunia Dursley.

The tea and the cake, sometimes èclairs or biscuits, that were served at Petunia Dursley's and which were praised highly for their great taste and texture were not made by her or anyone else named Dursley.

Cleaning the house, preparing breakfast, lunch and dinner, tidying everything up and making sure there was a shopping list with the necessary groceries and household things was never done by a Dursley in normal everyday life.

Oh, when the good-for-nothing boy, the young delinquent to whom the Dursleys kind-heartedly had given a home, was idly lazing around, one of the family members had to make sure that it was looking like they were normal and perfect, but usually this was outside their responsibility.

Sometimes, Harry hated his talent for precise preparation of things. Potions or food, he could not stand to ruin anything on purpose. Especially when beatings were the result.

But what he hated most was the Dursley's deceit.

Harry sighed, he had gone through too much already in his short life to try to rebel now, especially when in a few hours he would be on his way to Hogwarts.

He had already prepared this year's final breakfast for his relatives, who were going to get up soon.

When his uncle's and cousin's heavy steps were pounding on the steps Harry preferred to make himself scarce instead of being discovered and getting a telling off. Without wondering where the food had come from, Vernon and Dudley sat down at the table and started to eat.

Petunia looked at her family and disdainfully sniffed at the fact that she could not see her trouble-making nephew. In spite of that she sat down at the table and started to nibble at one of the freshly baked croissants.

„Where is the boy? He is going to that abnormal school today, right? Shouldn't he be finished with his chores soon? Why is he still lurking around somewhere?" wheezed Vernon while he shoved a couple of eggs (sunny side up) in to his mouth and poured coffee by the litre down his throat.

Petunia after all these years was only slightly disgusted with the display her husband and -unfortunately- her son, who would not even pause in his eating, were showing every morning. She answered lightly: „You know the way the boy is. We won't take him to the station before/unless he has finished his chores. Otherwise he will have to find a way to get there. Don't worry, Vernon, think about how we can hamper our Duddikins while we're in London. I think he deserves at least a new videogame, especially as he is leaving for Smeltings so soon."

Petunia had already seen Harry hiding in the shadow near the door and wanted to get across to him that if he had not finished all his chores until the departure in three hours' time he had to find a way to get to London himself.

Vernon and Dudley, however, were already planning how they would spend their day in London. Their affirmative grunting was the last thing Harry could hear before he left into the garden.

Even though it was early morn it was already very hot, and Harry bemoaned the fact that he was not yet allowed to use his wand, as he did not have the opportunity to make it untraceable.

When the sweat was running down his forehead and he was sweating in the rags that actually were some of Dudley's discarded clothes, Harry asked himself when he would finally be released from this prison.

He personally could not understand why he was bound to this family, as there were no special wards, nor were protective runes in existence in the house.

As his family was not overly caring and could not possibly have invoked one of the ancient protective rituals, Harry could not understand why he was staying there. A magical family who could have trained him from childhood on and could have protected him was, in his opinion, better than to waste away his life in this neighbourhood.

After he had watered all of the plants, weeded the flowerbeds and cleaned the house at the most obvious places, departure time arrived. Sighing, he sat down on the lowest step, to escape the drama taking place in the upper storey level of the house.

Dudley once again held the opinion, that his freakish cousin did not have the right to go to London with them. Petunia tried to point out to him, that they were only going to London because of his cousin, but that she would buy him a great present if he just would shut up for now.

Harry, who had once been father or rather mother of over six children, nearly laughed at these proceedings. He knew that children who were „tamed" and „raised" through presents and sweets would never be able to keep up with real life.

They would try to get their way with threats and blackmail everywhere, especially as it worked so well with their parents. Children such as these would more often than not be lazy and would take things more personally, as they never had to work for something.

Sometimes, Harry wished that children like this one would end up in his own Slytherin.

Not, because he cared for spoilt children, or because there they could learn how to reach their goals with leverage and secrets. He wanted these children to learn what he had created his house for: respect and love.

When Petunia descended the stairs with an offended Dudley in tow, she did not pay attention to her nephew and just reminded him that all his possessions better be in the car, as they would leave any minute now.

Harry nodded approvingly while he walked out of the house and took a seat in the car before Dudley and Vernon would take all the space for themselves. After they had all embarked, Dudley began to whine about the presence of his cousin and was rudely reminded by an annoyed Vernon that no-one had forbidden to make his displeasure known by physical methods.

After endless punches and pinches, Harry was glad to have arrived at Kings Cross Station. With a slap on the back of his head and a warning to not come back until the summer, the Dursley family left Harry on his own at the station with his trunk and Hedwig in her cage.

Without looking back even once, Harry got on his way to platform 9 ¾. His first problem was, that this platform did apparently not exist. Harry scanned the whole station with his eyes. But the platform was nowhere to be found.

Harry cursed all newfangled items and modes of transport. Children had been wont to arrive by portkey or had been escorted to Hogwarts by one of the founders.

Luckily in this moment a huge crowd of redhaired children, led by an equally redhaired woman appeared and were ushered to the wall between platforms 9 and 10.

Harry knew instinctively that this was a wizarding family on their way to Hogwarts. Of course this could also be because two oft he children, apparently twins, were each wearing a pullover that said: „Gred and Forge, Hogwartspupils of the special class greet every muggle who can read this message as the first non-magical reader who can see magic."

Those two had a sense of humor, Harry thought as he unsuspiciously closed in on the family while the lady explained, how to reach the Hogwarts Express.

Observantly, through the corner of her eye Molly Weasley noticed the boy who had joined them. Because of her quick understanding, the prerequisite of a mother of twins who were true anarchists and troublemakers, she knew that it would most certainly be a magical child from a muggle family.

She thus explained as loud as she could without raising suspicion of muggles passing by, how to reach platform 9 ¾ through the wall. Her mother-instincts had been awakened by such a frail looking boy, who stood there on his own without a family. But she also knew how boys liked to make their own decisions and to have their own will, and so she did not meddle further.

Harry now knew how to get to the platform and now only waited until the family had vanished until he himself walked into his new magical life.

„Well, Hogwarts, here I come!"


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