Post by gear on Aug 22, 2011 16:41:35 GMT -8
Title: A True Slytherin
Rating: PG-13
House: Slytherin
Word Count: 838
Warnings: Rated for language and implied violence and death
Summary: : He has always been disappointed with his houses reputation. Being the kind of man he is, he decides that it is time for someone to do something about it. Being a Slytherin, he decides to do it subtly and with cunning.
Author's Note (of Doom): The portrayal of Slytherins in the books has always disappointed me. They are portrayed as entirely evil. And yes, there are ‘exceptions’ such as Snape, but it was even said in the book that he would have made a good Gryffindor. I feel that I cannot be possible that 25 percent of the wizarding population are cowardly ferrets with no redeeming features (it is possible that they are not sorted evenly, in which case I would expect about 90 percent of them to be in Hufflepuff, and it this never shown in the books). I have not written this character before either (or, for that matter, much Harry Potter fic at all. This will be my third) and I am not sure if I got his voice down properly. Feedback is welcome. End of monstrous authors note.
I was always disappointed by the reputation that my house gained. We are the house of cunning not the house of “evil, evil, evil everywhere!”, or the house of cowardly bastards, although unfortunately, some of us are. My sorting had been quick; the Sorting Hat barely had time to touch my head before it decided that the house of the scheming was the place for me.
During my years at Hogwarts, I became a neutral figure. I had friends and allies (perhaps more allies than friends) in all the houses, and was renowned for not taking sides. I was a mediator of sorts. Of course, neutrals tend to be targets. The all-pervasive, ‘if you aren’t with us, then you’re against us’ made it a difficult job. I learned to be vigilant, and never let my guard down. My Slytherin qualities served me well during those years, allowing me to survive the dangerous land of the nonaligned.
I realized sometime during my sixth or seventh year that being a neutral in Hogwarts was one thing, what with teachers regulating the place and the simple fact that all the players were children (that is not to say that children cannot be nasty little pieces of work – just look at Tom Riddle, he managed to commit at least three murders before leaving school). When I left, I would have to pick a side. I spent much of my remaining time there (other than the not inconsiderable hours expended studying for my N. E. W. T.s) inspecting both sides, weighing the pros and cons, deciding where to throw my lot.
Ultimately, it was not decided by the desirable attributes of one side, but the undesirable traits of the other. Death Eaters attacked my family a few months after I graduated from Hogwarts, killing my father and sister, and badly injuring my mother. I suppose Voldemort took my lack of answer as a refusal, and decided to keep me from joining the other side. I was not at the house at the time, but I returned soon after the attack to find my childhood home devastated. If my mother had not needed attention, I likely would have started my hunt that very night, like an idiotic Gryffindor with no thought whatsoever, charging into danger, killing myself in the process. As it was, my mother provided enough of a distraction to allow my mind to calm down, allowing me to come up with a plan.
I joined the Aurors the day that my mother got out of the hospital. I trained, and learned, and fought and trained and fought some more, until I was in a perpetual state of tiredness so intense that my bones ached and my brain felt like it was mere seconds away from liquefying and running out my ears. To compound the normal troubles of auror training (even war time auror training), I faced resentment as a Slytherin. I certainly did not broadcast it (unlike Gryffindors, Slytherins have enough brains to put survival before pride), but it got around. Unsure if I could trust my fellows to cover my back, I learned (well, I had already learned this at school, but it reinforced the concept) to trust only myself. I rose in the ranks rapidly (when a war is on, good fighters are good fighters, Slytherins, and Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs all alike).
Dumbledore approached me, telling me that he was starting a new organization for fighting He Who Shall Not Be Named, called the Order of the Phoenix. By this time, the Ministry was becoming riddled with corruption, beginning to buckle under the pressure Lord Voldemort was putting on them. I agreed immediately. It was work, hard work, but I had become accustomed to that long ago. People died, good men and women. People died, bad men and women. We won battles, we lost battles. By the time Potter came along, we were beginning to lose our grip; we began losing more than we won, ending each confrontation with more and more injuries, more and more deaths. Then came along this miracle, this child who ‘defeated’ the Dark Lord. I was unconvinced, but with no better option, I dedicated myself to helping clean up the mess left by the war, collecting the remaining Death Eaters.
It turns out I was correct – He Who Must Not Be Named, is alive, and if not well, then at least gaining in strength. The Order has been reformed, and I am bracing myself for another war.
I survived the first war – not without a good measure of luck. I doubt that I will survive the coming one. My quota of luck has been used up long ago. But I have done a lot, I have helped clear the name of Slytherin, if only a little bit, and I have gotten my revenge on my family’s killers. I have done all I set out to do, all those years ago (more than I like to think) when I first walked into the Ministry of Magic, intending to apply as an auror. That is not to say, of course, that I intend to go out quietly. After all, I am Mad Eye Moody. I have a reputation to maintain.
Rating: PG-13
House: Slytherin
Word Count: 838
Warnings: Rated for language and implied violence and death
Summary: : He has always been disappointed with his houses reputation. Being the kind of man he is, he decides that it is time for someone to do something about it. Being a Slytherin, he decides to do it subtly and with cunning.
Author's Note (of Doom): The portrayal of Slytherins in the books has always disappointed me. They are portrayed as entirely evil. And yes, there are ‘exceptions’ such as Snape, but it was even said in the book that he would have made a good Gryffindor. I feel that I cannot be possible that 25 percent of the wizarding population are cowardly ferrets with no redeeming features (it is possible that they are not sorted evenly, in which case I would expect about 90 percent of them to be in Hufflepuff, and it this never shown in the books). I have not written this character before either (or, for that matter, much Harry Potter fic at all. This will be my third) and I am not sure if I got his voice down properly. Feedback is welcome. End of monstrous authors note.
I was always disappointed by the reputation that my house gained. We are the house of cunning not the house of “evil, evil, evil everywhere!”, or the house of cowardly bastards, although unfortunately, some of us are. My sorting had been quick; the Sorting Hat barely had time to touch my head before it decided that the house of the scheming was the place for me.
During my years at Hogwarts, I became a neutral figure. I had friends and allies (perhaps more allies than friends) in all the houses, and was renowned for not taking sides. I was a mediator of sorts. Of course, neutrals tend to be targets. The all-pervasive, ‘if you aren’t with us, then you’re against us’ made it a difficult job. I learned to be vigilant, and never let my guard down. My Slytherin qualities served me well during those years, allowing me to survive the dangerous land of the nonaligned.
I realized sometime during my sixth or seventh year that being a neutral in Hogwarts was one thing, what with teachers regulating the place and the simple fact that all the players were children (that is not to say that children cannot be nasty little pieces of work – just look at Tom Riddle, he managed to commit at least three murders before leaving school). When I left, I would have to pick a side. I spent much of my remaining time there (other than the not inconsiderable hours expended studying for my N. E. W. T.s) inspecting both sides, weighing the pros and cons, deciding where to throw my lot.
Ultimately, it was not decided by the desirable attributes of one side, but the undesirable traits of the other. Death Eaters attacked my family a few months after I graduated from Hogwarts, killing my father and sister, and badly injuring my mother. I suppose Voldemort took my lack of answer as a refusal, and decided to keep me from joining the other side. I was not at the house at the time, but I returned soon after the attack to find my childhood home devastated. If my mother had not needed attention, I likely would have started my hunt that very night, like an idiotic Gryffindor with no thought whatsoever, charging into danger, killing myself in the process. As it was, my mother provided enough of a distraction to allow my mind to calm down, allowing me to come up with a plan.
I joined the Aurors the day that my mother got out of the hospital. I trained, and learned, and fought and trained and fought some more, until I was in a perpetual state of tiredness so intense that my bones ached and my brain felt like it was mere seconds away from liquefying and running out my ears. To compound the normal troubles of auror training (even war time auror training), I faced resentment as a Slytherin. I certainly did not broadcast it (unlike Gryffindors, Slytherins have enough brains to put survival before pride), but it got around. Unsure if I could trust my fellows to cover my back, I learned (well, I had already learned this at school, but it reinforced the concept) to trust only myself. I rose in the ranks rapidly (when a war is on, good fighters are good fighters, Slytherins, and Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs all alike).
Dumbledore approached me, telling me that he was starting a new organization for fighting He Who Shall Not Be Named, called the Order of the Phoenix. By this time, the Ministry was becoming riddled with corruption, beginning to buckle under the pressure Lord Voldemort was putting on them. I agreed immediately. It was work, hard work, but I had become accustomed to that long ago. People died, good men and women. People died, bad men and women. We won battles, we lost battles. By the time Potter came along, we were beginning to lose our grip; we began losing more than we won, ending each confrontation with more and more injuries, more and more deaths. Then came along this miracle, this child who ‘defeated’ the Dark Lord. I was unconvinced, but with no better option, I dedicated myself to helping clean up the mess left by the war, collecting the remaining Death Eaters.
It turns out I was correct – He Who Must Not Be Named, is alive, and if not well, then at least gaining in strength. The Order has been reformed, and I am bracing myself for another war.
I survived the first war – not without a good measure of luck. I doubt that I will survive the coming one. My quota of luck has been used up long ago. But I have done a lot, I have helped clear the name of Slytherin, if only a little bit, and I have gotten my revenge on my family’s killers. I have done all I set out to do, all those years ago (more than I like to think) when I first walked into the Ministry of Magic, intending to apply as an auror. That is not to say, of course, that I intend to go out quietly. After all, I am Mad Eye Moody. I have a reputation to maintain.