A/N: So, I've developed a bit of a taste for Viktor Krum/Harry Potter fics, and I thought I'd have a go at writing my own. First of all, I'd like to say that I'm at university, and don't have the book with me so I'm kind of relying on the movie for now. This story is going to be as canon-compliant as possible (where applicable), but as this is an AU, it obviously isn't going to be CANON canon, hell, much as I love the pairing it isn't really canon. I also apologise that this chapter may seem a little rushed, the next chapters won't be like that at all. I always welcome constructive criticism, and as usual do read and review. And I hope you enjoy this little distraction of mine.

Summary: After the Death Eaters storm the Quidditch World Cup, Harry is knocked out and finds himself in an alternate reality where he had been sorted into Slytherin. With the Triwizard Tournament coming up and Sirius Black's latest escape from Azkaban, Harry finds himself allying with the most unlikely people to survive this harsh new world.

WARNINGS: AU, Slash, Slow Burn, Minor OCs

Oh, and if you don't like any of those, don't read - it really is as simple as that.

Harry had no idea what had hit him.

He had fallen on the muddy, branch-littered earth beneath him before the entire world seemed to blur, and the horror-struck screams around him faded into a heavy silence.

The whole Wizarding World labeled Harry as the 'Boy Who Lived', the boy who had put a stop the horrors inflicted on the magical community by one Lord Voldemort. Many held him to the same standard as a hero, and yet those very same people were trampling over him like was no more than a bug. Not that Harry blamed them, humans, magic or Muggle, value their lives instinctively – and chances are, had he not experienced what he had over the past three years he would be trampling all over the very same people with no regard for their safety or comfort.

Even in his state of fatigue, he still couldn't understand it.

The last thing he could remember before he lost consciousness was Hermione's distant screams…

When Harry had finally awoken, he recoiled - feeling the bitter cold of the window he had been leaning on.

Wait, window?

'Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,' said a cool, well-articulated male voice, 'how was your nap?'

Back to the window and legs outstretched onto the vacant space of his seat sat a lanky, pale boy with light brown hair – his face obscured by his open copy of the Daily Prophet.

September 1, 1994?

Harry looked to his right momentarily, and his green eyes widened as he took in the dark scenery rushing past behind the glass. He was on the Hogwarts Express.

No, that can't be right… I was at the Quidditch World Cup, wasn't I?

Harry found himself even more shocked when the other boy put away his paper and scowled at him, and he immediately recognized the boy as Theodore Nott, a Slytherin. What in Merlin's name was he doing in a compartment with Theodore Nott?

'Earth to Harry, come in, Harry Potter.'

'Harry?' I wasn't aware we had suddenly become best mates.

Harry blinked several times, praying in his heart that this was some sort of waking dream, 'sorry, I'm a bit groggy, how long have I been asleep?'

Something very strange was going on here, and Harry had every intention of uncovering whatever Nott's, as well as anyone else's, pretenses. His best chance was to play along, and hopefully whatever the nature of this latest misadventure he had gotten himself into would become clear as day.

To Harry's surprise, Nott gave him a friendly smirk, 'since you sat your arse down, good thing too, you looked like shit. I suppose those Muggles of yours are still giving you hell.'

Harry gave him a forced smile, 'yeah, you know what they're like.' Apparently.

The air between them was tense, and if Harry ever wanted to find out what was going on, he had to maintain the illusion of normality. He searched his mind for something, anything that the two might have in common – but it was Nott, not he, who broke the silence:

'So, apparently Snape has some "big surprise" for us,' the Slytherin boy scoffed, 'if its extra potions work just so we can get ahead of the Gryffindors, then he can forget it.'

Harry furrowed his brows, 'I'm sorry, "us"?'

Nott looked at his classmate incredulously, 'Slytherin House,' he said, slowly and rather patronizingly as though he were explaining a very complex concept to a five-year-old child.

Harry inhaled deeply, and very discreetly, his eyes rolled down to see the House Badge embroidered onto his robe.

Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin.

The train had come to a halt, and when it did, Harry finally saw the image of the serpent coiled within the confinements of the badge's borders.

Harry and Nott walked through the courtyard in silence – Harry could tell the (other?) Slytherin was starting to get a little suspicious, as he kept giving Harry side glances as though he may disappear at any moment (Harry prayed he did).

Theodore's face perked up slightly, and Harry gave him a questioning look, 'Harry, look.' Harry's eyes followed the direction to which Nott's slender finger pointed – most, if not all, the students of Hogwarts were gathering by the courtyard's arches, their backs turned to the Slytherin duo.

'Come on,' he pulled Harry along to a vacant arch.

'What's going… on?' and just in time to answer his question, an intricately designed carriage pulled by half a dozen pegasi came soaring down from the clouds – their wings cutting gracefully through the air as they made their descent.

'Harry,' Theodore said with a dreamy quality in his velvety voice, 'look.'

Harry's green eyes widened as a wooden beam trailed across the lake before the mass beneath the flag pole rose from the dark waters of the Black Lake, exposing a massive ship with elegant arching structures at its back.

'What's going on?' Harry asked again.

'The Triwizard Tournament,' a familiar, confident voice stated as though it were obvious, 'the Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbaton Academy, those are our rivaling schools for the tournament.'

Harry and Nott spun around only to find a bushy-haired Gryffindor behind them.

'Hermione,' Harry breathed out – Nott gave him a strange look, but Harry ignored him.

It was such a relief to Harry to see a familiar face, in a world where everything was upside down; Hermione's face should have been a relief.

Should have been.

But this wasn't the Hermione he had been best friends with for over three years. This was the Hermione of whatever strange world this was. Instead of joining him, she merely nodded in acknowledgement with a curt, 'Potter, Nott.'

Harry froze immediately. Nott, however nodded back quite politely with 'Granger.' Harry was sort of surprised, Nott was never as malicious as Malfoy and his merry troop of junior Death Eaters, but it was no secret that he and his father held blood purity in high regards – as a majority of Purebloods did. For him to even be acknowledging Hermione was a bit surprising.

'You two should head to the Great Hall, I'm sure Dumbledore's going to begin his announcements soon - plus I don't think you boys want to miss meeting our guests,' she opened her mouth, and then closed it, 'see you at class.'

Harry noticed she looked Nott directly in the eye as she said that last part.

'Yeah, you too, thanks.'

Harry could see the ghost of a smile on her lips before she turned her back to them and headed into the castle.

'What was that about?' Harry asked, feeling sort of protective as he saw Nott smirk at the girl's back.

'Um, nothing. Let's get going.'

Harry never expected to be sat at the Slytherin table, underneath tall, handsome banners of green and silver. Nott had never been particularly popular with the Slytherins, but evidently it was more choice than not. Daphne Greengrass had attempted to strike up conversation with the brown-haired boy several times, but Nott's responses hardly showed any interest.

For a moment, Harry allowed himself to look longingly at the Gryffindor table, smiling as he saw Ron try to catch a chicken leg that Fred and George were levitating just out of his reach - some things never change.

Harry was surprised, however, at how nice Nott was to him. He was whispering pleasantly through the Sorting Ceremony, as well as Dumbledore's announcements.

'I mean,' Theodore rolled his eyes, 'I know my father is old but it doesn't take much effort to go to Diagon Alley for some shopping, I've been begging him for a copy of The Life and Trials of Nicholas Flammel since our second year,' he sagged his shoulders and for the first time, Harry had seen some emotion in the boy's eyes. Gryffindor rivalry with the serpent's house often meant Harry saw all Slytherins through a dirty lens – something he was not particularly proud of, after all, with an attitude like that Harry himself could easily fall prey to prejudiced thoughts.

'Anyways, how was your summer?' Nott forced a smile as he turned his face from scowling at the table as though it bore his father's face.

Harry was just about to tell the boy about the Quidditch World Cup – but had that even happened in this world? Harry had no idea where he stood with the Weasleys in this world, and a part of him was honestly far too scared to even find out.

Before he could even reply with a 'boring, I did nothing but stay at the Dursley's,' Dumbledore introduced the lovely ladies of the Beauxbâtons Academy.

Nott grinned and whispered 'bloody hell' as they strode through the hall in their snug blue dresses.

Their headmistress, Madam Maxime thundered through the hall, Harry had never seen such a tall woman – he was pretty sure he had heard Seamus Finnegan exclaim 'blimey, that's one BIG woman!'

Once the giantess made it to the front of the hall, the girls in blue bowed elegantly – their calculative movements bewitching almost all the men, and hell, even some of the women, into erupting into cheers and applause.

Dumbledore rose his hands and the applause died down almost immediately, 'and now, our friends from the North, please greet the proud sons and daughters of Durmstrang and their High Master, Igor Karkaroff.'

A loud tapping filled Harry's ears as the Durmstrang students clad in fur uniforms struck the ground will their staffs – sparks grazing on the Great Hall's stone floor. Twirling their staffs like batons they ran to the stage at the front of the hall before blowing on the heads' of their staffs – and Harry's heart was filled once again with wonder as he saw what beauty magic was capable of creating.

A ball of fire was blown out of five students' mouths, forming into flaming eagles.

'Blimey, its him, Viktor Krum.'

All eyes turned to the hall's entrance as, alongside Igor Karkaroff, a tall, stocky man with a determined expression on his face walked purposely towards through the hall. For a moment, Harry's green eyes locked with the familiar Bulgarian's black ones, and a chilling sensation ran up from Harry's spine as Viktor's scowl deepened even further, and he turned his face from the younger boy.

'What was that about,' Nott frowned.

'Honestly, Theodore, no clue.'

Once they had left the hall, Nott had whistled loudly, 'eternal glory, eh? Shame we can't compete.'

Harry furrowed his brows, 'do you have a death wish?'

'Better than You-Know-Who trying to kill you again,' Nott said grimly.

'Yeah, I guess,' seemed like after all that was different in this world, Voldemort would always remain to be the same sociopathic murderer he was in Harry's original reality.

As he lay down in his alien Slytherin bed below the levels of the Black Lake, Harry prayed to God that the moment he re-opened his eyes this whole experience would dissolve into a bizarre dream.

And if this was actually happening, then the first thing he'd do in the morning was speak to Dumbledore. Surely, the elder wizard would know what was going on.