Harry Potter is a Slytherin

Harry Potter woke up suddenly from a very unsettling dream. He reached over to his left to retrieve his glasses from his counter, but caught nothing no matter how many times he tried. Frustrated, Harry sat up and looked to his left, but there was nothing -- not even his cabinet. He couldn't see very well without his glasses, but he could just make out the other five four-poster beds of his fellow Gryffindors.

But Harry himself made five, so there should have been only four other beds. Instead, no matter how many he counted, he got five. What was going on? Harry got the sense something wasn't right, but couldn't put his finger on it. Sure everything would make sense once he got his glasses on, he felt around for them. He eventually found them resting on a counter to the right of his bed. The dormitory seemed very different than the way he remembered it, but he got out of bed anyway, feeling certain everything would make sense once he cleared his head.

The first thing he noticed was that there were no windows and, secondly, that the beds were decked with green instead of red. Harry pulled back the emerald curtains on one of the beds and saw Draco Malfoy sleeping in what looked like a very frilly nightgown. Harry's heart took off as he looked around the room. He ran up to the mirror to look at his reflection. He still looked like himself except for the fact he was wearing a pair of silky pajamas.

It all made sense suddenly -- he was in the Slytherin dormitory. What was going? Harry figured Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had probably brought him in there so they could do something awful and embarrassing to him. Well, Harry wasn't going to let them. Where were his clothes? Harry couldn't find them anywhere in the room. Knowing Malfoy, he had probably hidden Harry's normal clothes elsewhere, so Harry quickly gave up looking.

Harry ran out the dormitory and found himself at the bottom of a spiral staircase that, he soon discovered, led him up to the Slytherin common room. He recognized the dimly-lit room from when he had visited it in his second year, but he didn't waste any time taking in the sights. Harry pushed open the stone doorway of the common room and sneaked down the corridors, more afraid of being seen in those awful pajamas than getting caught by Filch.

And speaking of Filch...

"I hear footsteps, my sweet," an old raspy voice said. "I think it's a sneaky, little student out of bed."

Harry ran through a door that led into an unused classroom and waited for Filch and Mrs. Norris to pass. After they were gone, he headed straight for the Fat Lady's portrait. She was sleeping in her frame and Harry had to shout the password several times before she heard him.

"Yeah, that's right," she mumbled and the portrait hole opened.

Harry climbed into the familiar Gryffindor common room and ran upstairs to his dormitory. He couldn't wait to get back into his own clothes. However, his dormitory was another shock. There were only three beds in the room and Ron's poster of the Chudley Cannons was missing. Not only were Harry and Ron's beds missing, but so was Ron himself. Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, on the other hand, were still there.

What was going on? Had the Slytherins done to Ron what they'd done to Harry? Should Harry go back and try to find him? Harry decided against this -- this wasn't something that involved Lord Voldemort or anything -- he ought to just let the teachers handle it. Harry didn't want to go the teachers in those awful pajamas, so he shook Neville to wake him.

"What?" Neville mumbled in his sleep.

"It's me, Harry," Harry breathed. "What's going on? Where's Ron? We need to get Professor McGonagall." Suddenly, Neville's eyes snapped open.

"P-P-Potter?" he asked nervously.

"Yes, me," Harry said, exasperated. "You know, Harry Potter. I'm in here." Neville whimpered.

"Don't do that," Harry said, feeling even more annoyed. "Can't you just tell me where Ron Ron is? We need to get Professor McGonagall."

"I swear I don't know where he is!" Neville said desperately. It was only then that Harry noticed how Neville was staring at him -- with fear.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Harry told Neville. "I just want to know what's going on. Where's my bed?"

"I-I-I don't know," Neville stuttered. "In your dormitory, I suppose."

"My dormitory?" Harry asked incredulously. "Don't you mean our dormitory? We've only slept in the same dormitory for seven years."

"W-w-what're you talking about?" Neville asked nervously. "H-h-how'd you get in here?"

"How'd I get in here?!" Harry asked in exasperation. "For God's sake, don't you know?! I know you're not good with passwords, but surely --" Harry broke off. Neville was still staring fearfully at him.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry asked, starting to feel very angry. Neville turned around, jumped on Seamus' bed and shook him.

"What the -- Neville," he said, as he sat up. "What time is it?" Neville pointed at Harry.

"How the bloody hell did you get in here?!" Seamus yelled upon seeing Harry.

"So, you did this!" Harry shouted. "You threw me out! Where's Ron? Did you throw him out, too?!"

"Go get Professor McGonagall," Seamus muttered to Neville. As Neville scurried out of the room, Seamus stood up and drew his wand.

"What d'you want, Potter?" he asked maliciously.

"For starters, I'd like to know where Ron is," Harry said angrily.

"What d'you want with him, Potter?" Seamus asked suspiciously. Harry lost his temper.

"Since when d'you call me 'Potter?!'" he asked in outrage. "What's wrong with everybody?! Why can't you just tell me where Ron is?" Seamus held up his wand, his hand shaking.

"Stupefy!" he whispered and everything went black.

Harry's eyes opened and he saw the blurry ceiling of the hospital wing. He reached for his glasses and put them on. He couldn't remember what had happened or how he had ended up there. Then he remembered how he had woken up in the Slytherin dormitory and how no one in his dormitory seemed to recognize him. Deciding it had all been a dream, Harry looked around the room.

"Madam Pomfrey," he called out. Madam Pomfrey turned around.

"You're going to be okay," she told him coldly. "Right now, the heads of house are discussing new security measures to prevent any more Slytherin students from getting into Gryffindor Tower." Harry's heart sank like a rock.

"I need to speak with Professor McGonagall," Harry said instantly. "To -- to ask her what's going on?"

"Really," Madam Pomfrey said coolly without making eye contact, "she actually demanded to see you the second you woke up."

"Professor McGonagall!" Harry hollered hopefully as soon as McGonagall strictly marched into the infirmary. McGonagall glared at him.

"Potter, you were found in the Gryffindor dormitory looking for Ronald Weasley," she said sternly, as though she had not heard him. "I'd like an explanation."

"That's sort of what I was hoping for," Harry replied curtly.

"I think we'll start with you," McGonagall said strictly. "First of all, I'd like to know how you got into the Gryffindor common room."

"What d'you mean 'how I got in?'" Harry asked incredulously. "I went up to the portrait of the Fat Lady, said 'Gertie Keddle' and the portrait opened up. I climbed in the portrait hole and went up to my dormitory."

"Excuse me," McGonagall said very severely, "your dormitory?"

"Yes, my dormitory where I've slept for past seven years," Harry said, feeling his heart pound very hardly. McGonagall gave him an incredulous look before going on.

"All right then, Mr. Potter," she said sternly, "we'll do this the hard way. How did you get the password to Gryffindor Tower?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"You had the password to get past the Fat Lady?" McGonagall asked him.

"Yeah," Harry answered fiercely.

"How did you know it?" she asked. Harry stared incredulously at her.

"What are you talking about?" he repeated faintly.

"I really don't see how I could be any clearer, Mr. Potter," she replied matter-of-factly. "I have one question; how -- did -- you -- know -- the -- password -- to -- Gryffindor -- Tower?"

"Well, everybody knows it!" Harry shouted. "Well, I mean, Neville keeps forgetting, but everybody else knows."

"Are you saying someone told you?" McGonagall asked.

"Well, how else would I know it?" Harry asked in disbelief. "You think I came up with the password or something?"

"And who told you?" McGonagall asked seriously.

"Why the hell does it matter?!" Harry asked incredulously.

"I need to know who it was and why," McGonagall said, narrowing her eyes at him. Her mouth had become very thin.

"Probably Ron or Hermione, I guess," Harry said. "I don't remember which one."

"Hermione?" McGonagall asked. "Are you referring to Hermione Granger?"

"Yes!" Harry yelled. "Me, Ron and Hermione are friends! We met in our first year and stopped Quirrell from getting the Sorcerer's Stone! Don't you remember?" McGonagall clasped her hand to her heart, looking like she might faint.

"How do you know about the Stone?" she asked, sounding alarmed. "How did you know Quirrell was trying to steal it?"

"How do I know about it?" Harry asked angrily. "Me, Ron and Hermione figured out in our first year the thing Fluffy was guarding on the third floor was the Sorcerer's Stone! We thought Snape was trying to steal it, so we went through the trapdoor to try and stop him, but it turned it was really Quirrell." McGonagall stared very harshly at him.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull, Potter," McGonagall said stoically, "but I want you to cut it out this instant. Now, don't you have an explanation for all this?"

"Me?" Harry asked incredulously. "God, no! P-Professor, d-d-don't you recognize me?"

"Of course I recognize you," she said sternly. "You're Harry Potter. Slytherin seventh year, conceited troublemaker and best friend of Draco Malfoy."

"W-what?" Harry asked incredulously. "Draco Mal-- since when?" McGonagall looked shrewdly at him.

"Until you're ready to tell me the truth, I'll give you time to think about what you did," she said, before strutting out of the room.

Harry remained in the hospital wing for the rest of the day, his whole body aching where he had pinched himself several times in a useless effort to make himself wake up from what turned out to not be a very unusual nightmare. After lying alone in the infirmary, thinking about his situation, he reached the conclusion that all he could do was play along until he figured out what was happening to him.

"You have a visitor," Madam Pomfrey said suddenly. Harry looked up and saw Draco Malfoy standing at the door, smiling at him. It made him feel sick.

"Hey, Pot!" he shouted buoyantly. "Heard you got into Gryffindor Tower; how'd you do it, mate?" Harry resisted the temptation to get up and punch Malfoy's lights out.

"I, uh, have my ways," he answered, trying to smile mischievously. Malfoy grinned as he walked over towards Harry's bed and sat down by it.

"C'mon, you can tell me," Malfoy pleaded. "I'm your best friend."

"Since when?" Harry asked. He couldn't help himself.

"Since we shook hands on the Hogwarts Express," Malfoy replied, laughing. "Remember, you were getting mixed up with that Weasley boy and I explained to you how he was the wrong sort. Don't you remember, Potty-Boy?" Harry wanted to say, "okay, if you're going to be my friend, we need to establish some ground rules -- first of all, no 'Potty-Boy,'" but he didn't.

"So, why don't you tell me how you did it, Pot?" Malfoy asked, smiling mischievously.

"Madam Pomfrey," Harry said quickly. "She -- she could be listening."

"Ah," Malfoy said. "Well, you should see the state of the school. Everyone's wondering how you did it. Those little Gryffin firsties are all scared out of their pants."

Everyone was wondering how Harry had done it -- no one in the whole school remembered him. What was going on? Was this some kind of joke? Well, if it was, Harry was certainly not laughing.

"Why d'you look so glum?" Malfoy asked Harry cheerfully. "I know you were caught and everything, but everyone's still impressed -- well, the Slytherins are impressed, of course. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs are just scared."

"Where's Ron...ald Weasley?" Harry asked suddenly. "He wasn't in his dormitory?" Malfoy laughed.

"Oh, Potty-Boy --" (Harry's fists clenched under his blanket) "-- you didn't seriously believe Weasley would be his dormitory after what happened in our second year? You know, with his stupid little sister and all."

"What happened?" Harry asked, his heart suddenly racing. Ginny! What had happened to her? Was she all right?

"Oh, Potty-Boy, don't you remember anything?" Malfoy asked, laughing.

"Well, I got kind of disoriented from the Stunning Spell," Harry quickly invented.

"Well, just wait for your head to clear," Malfoy said, standing up, "that should help. I'll be down in the common room. Hope that Pomfrey woman lets you out of here soon, so we can find out how you did it?"

"Um, yeah," Harry mumbled, before Malfoy strutted out of the room.

It was around noon by the time Madam Pomfrey decided it was safe to let Harry out of the infirmary. The clothes he was presented with seemed to be his, but they were rather ornate for him. He was afraid everyone that saw him would laugh, but, on the contrary, people stayed away from him and kept their faces down when he passed. Just as Harry was trying to figure out this peculiar behavior, he saw Hermione coming towards him. She was carrying seven books in her arms and had a huge, ugly scar on the side of her face that Harry had never seen before. Maybe that was why she looked so close to tears.

"Hermione!" Harry said desperately. But Hermione's eyes didn't even register recognition as they passed over him.

"Hermione, don't you remember me?" he asked incredulously. "I'm Harry Potter, your friend." Hermione walked past him without even a glance.

"Hermione," he said, following her, "what's wrong with everybody? Why doesn't anyone seem to like me anymore? How'd you get that scar? Does it hurt at all?" Hermione didn't answer as she headed into the library and sat down to work on a homework assignment. Harry followed.

"Hermione," he said desperately, "why won't you talk to me? What's wrong with you? Please, tell me!"

"Madam Pince," Hermione said without even looking at Harry, "this boy is annoying me." Madam Pince turned to Harry.

"Unless you have work to do, get back to your dormitory," she said strictly. Harry realized he had no choice and left the library. He was in very low spirits now -- one of his best friends didn't seem to remember him. Why?

Harry couldn't find his way to the Slytherin common room and he knew the Gryffindors wouldn't be pleased to see him, so he headed to the owlery, hoping Hedwig would still be there. On the way there, he met Pansy Parkinson. Pansy, wearing way too much make-up, was looking at Harry in a way she had never looked at him before -- with lust. This made Harry feel quite uncomfortable, so he decided to pretend he hadn't seen her, but when she sweetly called, "oh, Harry!" he had no choice but to acknowledge she was there. At least it was nice to hear his first name again.

"Hi, Pansy," he said casually, assuming they were on first-name terms.

"Harry, I was just looking for you," she said, smiling seductively at him. "I've really missed you," she added, batting her eyelashes at him. Harry really didn't like where this seemed to be going, so he started heading down the corridor. Pansy followed behind him.

"Where are you taking me this time, Harry?" she asked him flirtatiously. "Another broom closet?" Harry did not like the mental images these words produced.

"Actually, I was thinking we would head back to the common room," Harry suggested. "You know, so I can tell Mal-- Draco and the others how I got into Gryffindor Tower." Pansy stepped in front of him, smiling at him.

"We can do that later," she said as she started lowering her cloak.

"Look," Harry said quickly, really, really not liking where this was obviously going, "I've been waiting almost an entire day to tell Draco how I did it and I don't think I could wait another minute. You know how close we are."

"How about just a few seconds," she suggested as she continued letting her cloak fall and stepped way, way too close to Harry.

"No!" Harry said, panicking. "I couldn't wait another second!" Pansy looked offended.

"Well, fine!" she said eventually. "But you'd better visit me tonight like you promised!"

"Yeah, whatever," Harry said, distracted. "Which way is it to the common room, again?"

"Oh," Pansy said, gripping his arm much too tightly, "I'll take you there. D'you think I'm strong enough to carry you?"

"No," Harry said bluntly. Pansy looked crestfallen.

"What's happened to you?" she asked. "It's like you're a whole different person."

"I just don't feel well," Harry said quickly.

"I can make you feel better," she said with a wicked smile on her face as she came so close to Harry that her breasts were pressed against his chest.

"No!" Harry said quickly. "How about later?" he added, praying he would be able to turn the world back to normal before "later" came. "Let's just get back to the common room now."

"All right," she agreed, pulling her cloak back up and taking Harry's arm so she could pull him down the corridor. It was a long walk to the Slytherin common room. Harry suspected Pansy was deliberately taking a very long route in the hope that he might change his mind, but they reached the stone wall that led to the Slytherin common room soon enough.

"Least milres," Pansy said clearly and the wall opened up to reveal the Slytherin common room. The room was now full of students -- all of whom seemed to know and love Harry. Harry grinned, half-heartedly, at them. Suddenly, Malfoy, who was reading the Daily Prophet, called him over.

"Oh, look at this," he said, pointing out an article. "That Diggory boy's playing Quidditch for England now. Can you believe that?"

"C-C-Cedric D-Diggory?" Harry asked, feeling butterflies form in his stomach.

"Yeah, that pretty-boy Hufflepuff," Malfoy said in disgust. "You remember him, don't you? He came in last place in the Triwizard Tournament." Suddenly, something occurred to Harry.

"Where's Sirius Black?" he asked suddenly.

"Well, he's still in Azkaban, isn't he?" Malfoy asked offhandedly. "I mean, where else would he be?"

"And Dumbledore?" Harry asked desperately.

"How should I know where Dumbledore is right now?" Malfoy asked incredulously. "Probably in his office, I'd guess."

"So, he's still alive?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, unfortunately," Malfoy replied. "I wonder how much older he'll have to get before he just dies of old age." Harry's heart beat harder -- Cedric Diggory, Sirius Black and Professor Dumbledore were all still alive. Suddenly, a horrible thought struck him -- what if the world was better off this way?