Chapter 1: Introduction
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Cowardly. Self-serving. Proud. Fanatical. Evil.
Slimy Slytherin.
That was how the majority of Hogwarts would describe Slytherin House. Ever since Salazar abandoned the school, the other three houses of Hogwarts would band together in times of trouble; leaving those wearing the silver and green out in the cold.
But that was fine by those sorted into Slytherin. They knew that while the other houses could afford to be one dimensional and see the world in black and white, the constant animosity that they faced amongst their peers, even from some of the staff, forced them to see the world in shades of gray. They knew that it would take much more than courage or loyalty or even intelligence to make it once they left Hogwarts.
It takes everything to succeed in Slytherin’s house.
Chapter 2: Draco Malfoy: Pride
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Post-Hogwarts, plus 2 years, August 2000
Draco Malfoy often hears them muttering under their breath as he passes them in Diagon Alley.
“Death Eater scum.”
But he pays them no mind. He holds his head up high and thinks about all the things that his family has done over the past thousand years and knows that he has something to be proud of.
Even when Draco gets hit in the back of the head with a ball of mud, he doesn’t turn around to yell at his attacker. He has to hold onto his pride. If there was one thing that he learned in Slytherin House, it was that pride could get you through anything.
Pride helped him to hold his head up high when Potter beat him to the snitch.
Pride helped him sneer at Granger when she hopped up and down in her seat with the right answers when he had no clue.
And it was pride that helped him to hold on to his scarred and tattered morality when the Dark Lord was living in Malfoy Manor.
He would do the only thing he knew how to do now. He would hold onto his pride.
Chapter 3: Theo Nott: Survival Instinct
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May 1989
Not many people my age have seen death. Even fewer had seen their father kill their mother. I don't mean to say that no one had. No one really knows what goes on behind closed doors. But for me, it showed that I would need to do certain things, act a certain way if I wanted to survive.
And I did; want to survive that is.
When my father slurs out around a glass of firewhiskey that mudbloods are ruining the wizarding world, I merely sit in silence and nod my head. No matter how uncomfortable it makes me feel, I fight the urge to squirm in my seat. When he tortures the house elves for serving dinner late, I fight the urge to help them or beg him to stop. He didn’t stop strangling my mother when I begged and I’m sure he’s even less inclined to stop torturing those he sees as less than himself. Which is everyone. I’m not sure where I fall on that scale, though I have no doubt he would torture me without hesitation if I were to annoy him too much.
It was an early lesson I learned: people will generally do what they want to do without regard to possible consequences. And when you have an ancient name and a seat on Wizengamot, you don’t really have to worry about the consequences. I’ve found that the best defense isn’t really a good offense…my mother learned that lesson the hard way. No, the best way to stay alive was to keep your head down.