Just to make some things clear before you read this:

1. This is a dark!Harry story. He will eventually switch his alliances to the dark, but not to Voldemort.

2. It will be a gradual transformation so what you see right now is Harry as he is at the beginning of the first book. It will start very canon and will divert a lot later on as Harry influences other people and they in turn influence him.

3. NO BASHING: Dumbledore will be presented as manipulative, because he is, but he won't be recklessly manipulative as is often the case in fanfiction. Ron will be a pain in the ass but only because it's canon that he hates slytherins.

4. Harry will become more and more slytherin as times goes by.

5. Don't ask me about pairings yet. He's 11 for God's sake.

6. This story contains a lot of terminology from Eton, but it will be explained within the story, so you don't necessarily have to look up the glossary or anything. I've also taken, mutated and replaced various slang words with others, but they too, will be explained thoroughly.

"Potter, Harry," professor McGonagall called out loudly. Almost as though acting on her command, the Great Hall broke out in whispers. Every single eye was on him and every single one of them was judging the person that stood before them. Harry swallowed nervously; he had never liked being the centre of attention.

Nevertheless, seeing McGonagall's expectant expression, he squared his shoulders and attempted as gracefully (and as confidently) as possible to take the steps up to the small stool. His eyes met McGonagall's a split second before the Hat was dropped over his eyes. They hadn't been all that encouraging.

"Hmm," a voice spoke in his head. Harry have a small start. Was this the… Hat? "Indeed, who else could it be, young Mr. Potter?"

"I haven't met many talking hats," Harry replied quickly (or well… thought at the Hat) and grimaced upon hearing his answer. Way to go, Harry, way to go.

"I am one of a kind," the Hat said haughtily. Harry hastened to give an apology, but the Hat had already moved on.

"Now, where to Sort you, eh?"

"Ron says that Slytherin is a house for evil wizards," Harry said haltingly. He could almost feel the frown that the Hat gave at that.

"Now if Mr. Weasley told you that everyone who lives in Number Four Privet Drive is good would you believe him?"

"Er," Harry mumbled unintelligently, lost for words.

"Haven't you been listening, Slytherin is home to ambitious and cunning wizards and I have reason to believe that you would do well there," the Hat continued. Harry pursed his lips, he didn't want to lose his only friend so far by being Sorted into the wrong house… by a Hat!

"If your friend is your friend no longer because of your Sorting then he wasn't such a good friend to begin with, was he?" The Hat pointed out. Harry slowly inclined his head to indicate that, yes, the Hat was right.

There was a long moment of silence in which Harry felt the Hat slithering between his memories, examining everything in his mind.

"How do you do that, Hat?"

"It's called Legilimency — far too advanced magic for you yet, I'm afraid—" The hat broke off and Harry felt foreign triumph shoot through his body. Triumph that came from the Hat. He had evidently found something solid that would tell him what house Harry belonged in. The image of Harry talking to that snake in the zoo swam before his eyes and then—

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat shouted. Harry startled at the sudden loud voice that simultaneously reverberated throughout his head and the Hall. The Hat was lifted off of his head and Harry was greeted with the sight of hundreds of gawping students. The table farthest to the right was cheering loudly — or to be more precise, certain students were cheering, others were simply glowering at him or jeering at the Gryffindors who had exploded in shouts of protest.

"Go along now," McGonagall said quietly to him, pushing Harry gently to get him moving. Harry licked his lips nervously and stood up. As he made his way to his new table, his gaze briefly wandered to the Head Table and he found Hagrid staring at him with shock and… was that repulsion?

The Headmaster's eyes were slightly narrowed and the twinkle in them was gone. Harry averted his eyes and fixed them on the table he would be sitting at for the next seven years.

As he sat down, various gazes stared at him with disdain; particularly those of the older students. Again, Harry averted his gaze, unwilling to challenge them or give them any inkling into his own current psyche, unaware that showing no confidence was doing exactly the opposite for him.

"Stare them down," whispered a voice in his ear. When Harry glanced to the side, he realised that another first year that had been sorted before him had spoken. Harry blinked at the the boy and he vaguely remembered McGonagall calling him Theodore.

"Wha—"

"Merlin, you won't survive a day in Slytherin with those wits," Theodore whispered, barely opening his mouth as he did so. His eyes were fixed on the Sorting ceremony happening before them. Evidently, he was trying not to look like he was helping Harry Potter in any way.

"You have to prove your worth in Slytherin," he continued. "So stare them down."

The boy fell silent after that. Harry licked his lips anxiously and then raised his brilliant green eyes onto the glaring gazes of his fellow Housemates. Various people sneered and then looked away, some more persisted for a moment longer and then too, turned to look at the new students being sorted. For a moment, Harry's heart soared: it seemed he had done something right!

"Runcorn, Meredith!" called McGonagall. The girl was instantly sorted into Slytherin and the entire house cheered loudly. Harry for all his earlier enthusiasm could not bring himself to clap and cheer along with them. She got a proper welcome. She was accepted. He was not.

"Tell me Potter, how does it feel like to be the only dirty stain on our house?" Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the blond boy whom he had already met twice: Draco Malfoy.

"Dark stain?" Harry felt lost. The girl next to Malfoy — Pansy, was it? — laughed and looped her arm through Malfoy's, meanwhile fluttering her eyes at him. It was painfully obvious that Malfoy's word had a lot of weight.

"Your mudblood mother, of course," Malfoy said maliciously. Harry was unsure of what the comment meant, but having met Malfoy twice already, he could deduce that it was a reference to the fact that his mother hadn't been a 'full witch'.

Under the table, Harry's fists balled and he tensed. Theodore Nott nudged him again which Harry took as a sign for 'don't get involved'.

"Well she did manage to stop Voldemort," Harry retorted angrily, face flushing. Apparently it had been the wrong thing to say because the nearest people to him hissed and their hands wandered down to their pockets, undoubtedly to reach for their wands.

"Down boys," said a voice farther down the table, loud enough that the Ravenclaws (the next table over) were able to faintly hear them. The effect was instantaneous. Everyone relaxed and turned their attention back to the Sorting. Harry examined the young man that had defended him.

He was tall and lithe and looked to be a sixth or seventh year. His eyes were narrowed in a considering stare. The hair was parted neatly at the side and flowed elegantly down to his ears. His clothes were well-tailored and made Harry wince when he looked down at his standard-issued uniform. A brightly coloured waistcoat under the other boys' cloak also caught his eye. Everyone around them seemed to be wearing a black one —

As it turned out, now that Harry thought about it, there were some other six students wearing such a multi-coloured waistcoat, each different from the other. Was it some special club? A special club that held some sort of dominance in Slytherin?

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter," said the young man. His lips were drawn in a small smirk as he sat down back at his own seat.

"Zabini, Blaise!" called McGonagall for the last time. The young man, now standing all alone in the middle of the hall, stalked up to the Hat and confidently shot a smirk at the Slytherin Table. A few seconds later, he was strolling happily at said table.

"Blaise," Malfoy said warmly when the boy sat down next to Harry.

"I see your father wasn't convinced to let you go to Durmstrang," said Blaise. It was clear to see that most of the new Slytherins had known each other prior to attending Hogwarts. Harry wondered how he would have turned out had he had the same privilege of growing up among wizards.

"Mother was concerned with letting me go so far away," Malfoy said, a little bit of red dusting his cheeks.

It appeared Harry had missed some sort of speech by Dumbledore, so engrossed in his thoughts had he been, because the next instant the tables were covered with food and the Slytherins had started to make fun of the Headmaster being some sort of whack-job.

Harry, being sandwiched between Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, was unable to escape their conversations.

"He's getting crazier and crazier by day," Nott remarked. The other students nodded emphatically. Even Crabbe and Goyle — who looked quite unenthused by anything but the food — grunted in assent.

"Father says he tried to pass a legislation to legalise the adoption of pureblood orphans to muggle parents," Daphne Greengrass said, eyes cold as she surveyed them. Catching Harry's gaze, she stared intently at him for a few more moments than necessary.

"That's horrible!" Pansy exclaimed, covering her mouth dramatically. Her voice was shrilly making Harry wince slightly.

"Hear, hear," Zabini said with a groan. "Muggleborns and Half-bloods just don't inherit the family magic; they don't understand how important it is for pureblood linages to stay pure and alive."

"I think he's a great man! Better than all of you anyway!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. All heads turned to him and a few faces broke out in disbelieving grins. Pansy began to giggle behind her hand. Nott nudged him harshly to stop him from talking.

"And what makes you think that, Potter? What has he ever done for you that was so great?" Zabini's eyes had narrowed predatorily. Harry stared him down like Nott had told him to do just minutes ago.

"Hmm?" Zabini attempted to prompt an answer from him. Harry froze as he attempted to recall something — anything — that Albus Dumbledore had done in favour for him. And to be terribly honest, he wasn't entirely sure he knew anything from his own history to be able to judge anyone in any way.

"He's the Headmaster," Harry said, knowing that it was a weak argument.

Millicent Bulstrode snorted. "Yeah and Fudge is the Minister for Magic, doesn't make him a great man, does it?" That seemed to settle the debate for the Slytherins.

.

The First years were led down hallways of dungeons that curled and turned and went uphill and downhill. Harry was even starting to wonder whether they would ever reach an end to the journey when they stopped in front a dead-end. But now that Harry looked closer, he noted a small serpent head poking out from the very end. It's jaw was open, revealing two sharp fangs and a tongue that was actually rattling. Then again, portraits here talked so Harry knew he shouldn't have been so surprised.

"The password this term is vitam regit fortuna, non sapientia," said the Slytherin Prefect, Cassius Warrington. He too wore a multicoloured vest.

"Fortune, not wisdom, rules lives." Theodore Nott translated for Harry. He shot the other boy a grateful look, which was completely ignored. Harry wondered why the boy was being so nice to him when he had obviously shown some sort of loyalty to Malfoy during dinner. Perhaps Slytherin just worked like that.

The first years slipped into the Common Room of the House and in an instant, Harry loved it. The cavernous room was warmly lit and had the perfect atmosphere for studying or even just spending time with friends — not that Harry was sure that he would have any.

Various tables were littered around the room, accompanied with upholstered chairs. There were two fire-places on different ends of the room and each was surrounded by a multitude of sofas, armchairs, and love-seats. The walls were adorned with bookshelves and portraits of regal men and women.

But the most stunning feature was the ceiling: It was completely made of glass and revealed the beautiful depths of the lake outside. As the first years filed in, in that short period of time, Harry already saw a mermaid or two swim over them, a large tentacle the size of Vernon's car, and many oddly-shaped fish that he was sure were exclusive to the wizarding world.

"As you can see we're directly under the Hogwarts Lake. Now, the password changes every fortnight and the new one will be posted on that noticeboard there—" Warrington gestured at a far wall that was covered with little leaflets and announcements. A few students were already crowding about.

"Before you all depart to your dormitories (he gestured left and right, girls and boys, respectively), I was asked to depart a little bit of wisdom." The newly sorted Slytherins exchanged a few anxious glances as they leaned in.

"Slytherin House never cracks under pressure. We stand against the rest of the school: one fourth against three fourths. Meaning we have to hold together. If you have a dispute, clear it up in the confines of this house, not outside. Outside, you will provide a united front. If you do not, the Library and its Provost will be forced to… punish you. Is this clear?"

It sounded more like a warning or a threat than advice. But Harry didn't hesitate to take it either way.

As the first years dispersed, Harry found himself wondering what the 'Library' and the 'Provost' were…. more importantly, who they were.