Stalking down the eerily silent halls of Hogwarts, the resident potions professor and infamous “greasy git”/”bat of the dungeons”, Professor Severus Snape was hurrying to Headmaster Dumbledore’s office for a meeting discussing the events that had taken place in recent weeks. Not a month before, the legendary Tri-wizard Tournament had concluded with disastrous results. A student had died, and if the story given by the witness was anything to go by (Snape snorted derisively at that), then Lord Voldemort was back in a corporeal body and gaining power.

As much as he hated Harry Potter, the boy did seem to attract an unnatural amount of trouble and the rumor was more than likely true, much to his dismay. So now he was on his way to discuss possible courses of action from this news. Of course, the Ministry was doing nothing aside from everything in its power to cover the “incident” up. Minister Fudge, being the imbecile that he is, was vehemently denying the return of Voldemort and threatening to put anyone saying otherwise under full auror investigation. No never mind the escape of Barty Crouch Jr. who had impersonated a former auror and infiltrated Hogwarts for an entire year before being caught. He had been given the dementor’s kiss before he could be properly interrogated and the full truth died with him.

Of course Severus knew more than most in the wizarding world, he had fully felt the affects of the Dark Lord’s resurrection thanks to the Mark branded into his left forearm. He knew the moment that his followers were summoned, and felt his stomach clench coldly as he realized he couldn’t respond to the call due to his presence at the tournament. It would raise too many questions if he vanished suddenly, only to have something happen involving the Dark Lord. And his instinct had been right. Potter had arrived within an hour, bearing the cold, lifeless body of his peer in his arms. The summons hadn’t occurred again since, but it was only a matter of time, and if he was going to resume his duties of spying for Dumbledore, he would have to fabricate a story that would save his life to explain his absence. As a Slytherin, such a task would really not be too difficult and he worried little about it.

Arriving at the stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster’s office, Professor Snape’s face twisted into a sneer that made him look vaguely like he had swallowed something slimy and disgusting. “Cockroach clusters,” he murmured, while mentally cursing Dumbledore for his affinity for sweets as his password and food of choice. He watched the gargoyle move away to reveal the stairway to Dumbledore’s office and strode up as the stairs rose. Before he had a chance to even knock on the wooden door in front of him, the Headmaster’s amused voice beckoned him from within.

Severus shook his head and strode in, glancing around quickly to see that the only ones present were himself, the Headmaster, his phoenix and the portraits with terrible acting skills as they all pretended to sleep.

“Ah, Severus, punctual as always. Would you like a lemon drop, my boy? Or perhaps some tea?” Dumbledore offered with a warm smile, belying the serious nature of the meeting. Not once had Severus accepted a lemon drop from the old man, and he certainly was not about to start now.

“No lemon drop, Headmaster, but tea would not be amiss,” he replied, gracefully planting himself on one of the plush chairs before the desk. Fawkes, the phoenix, crooned softly before fluttering to Severus, landing on the arm of his chair and leaning into his hand before he had even a chance to pull it away or realize that the phoenix had come to him. Severus smirked uncharacteristically and indulged the bird with a light scratching on the nape of its neck. The Headmaster quickly conjured a tray of tea onto his desk, quickly preparing two cups exactly as each of them preferred and passed one of Severus.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Severus said with a nod, freeing himself from petting duty to accept the cup. He took a sip, closing his eyes briefly to enjoy the warmth that spread down his body briefly from the warm liquid as he relaxed into the chair before turning his attention to the Headmaster once more.

“I’m sure you can imagine why I called you here, Severus, though I wish it wouldn’t even be an issue. Due to all the hassle with the Minister, I’ve not had a chance to properly talk to you on what you think about what happened. I know you felt the summons, you made that much clear, but what since then?” Dumbledore spoke up once he was sure that his colleague was comfortable and ready to approach the subject at hand.

“Yes, I felt the summons, but none since then. This could, of course, mean two things. One that the He has figured me a deserter and has stopped attempting to summon me, or else he is lying low while he gathers strength. I’m more inclined to believe the second explanation before the first. If he figured me a deserter, undoubtedly we would know by now, least of all due to his ability to send unimaginable amounts of pain through his mark. And from what Potter,” his lip curled and his nose scrunched a bit as though he had smelled something foul here, “has said, it seems that he is probably waiting for the most opportune time to strike out, once he has a secure foothold in power and followers. The question is, Albus, what would you have me do when he summons again?”

The headmaster sighed, the twinkle in his eye dimming a bit at the summary as he nodded slowly. He took a long sip of his tea before answering, “I believe you are correct in your assumption that Voldemort does not figure you as a deserter yet. As for what I would have you do, what do you wish to do my boy? You have already redeemed yourself for sins past,” he raised his hands, forestalling the argument that was about to come, “so it is entirely up to you if you wish to return to spying. Granted, if you decide not to, we will have to act quickly and seriously in our attempt to sever your connection to him through the mark, lest we find you dead from it.” The Headmaster’s face was drawn and a bit pinched at that thought and he took another fortifying sip of his tea while allowing the potions master to compose a reply.

“You know as well as I do that I could not have made up for everything I have done in my life simply by telling you a few damaging secrets of the Dark Lord’s. If he summons again, I will go and find out what I can. If he suspects, I can use my emergency portkey to get out of there, but I believe we should look into ways of severing the connection in case it comes to that. He would be swift to retaliate,” Severus replied, hoping to end the subject of his supposed redemption and reassure the old man that he would not dive headlong into a situation that would likely get him killed. After all, he was no Gryffindor.

“My boy, one day I hope that you will see how many times over you have redeemed yourself, but since you will not listen to this old man on the subject, I’ll let it drop for now. As for your plan, I believe it would be wise to try to salvage your position as a spy, especially now that I am reforming the Order. Even if it is for one meeting, you are a valuable asset to us. Nevertheless, I do want you to take the portkey with you, since we know all too well how volatile Voldemort is. If that is all you wish to discuss my boy, I’ll let you get back to your free time. I’m sure you have a lot to do to prepare for the upcoming school year and your own research.”

“Yes Headmaster, that’s all…I will keep you updated on His activities as best I can, and I will let you know when I am summoned. I assume you still have my robes and mask?” At this, Dumbledore nodded and opened a chest behind him, pulling out the mask to show Severus briefly before closing it again. “Very good. Then I’ll be off. Should you need anything, do let me know.” With that, Severus polished off his tea and left the office to return to his beloved dungeons.

Harry Potter, aka The Boy Who Lived, was currently having one hell of a miserable summer, to put it lightly. Currently he was sprawled on his bed, the sheets tossed around his ankles as he panted from over-heating, his body covered in a layer of sweat. His heart was racing a mile a minute and his head was spinning, despite his body being completely still. He had just awoken from a rather traumatizing dream, one of many that summer, of the last task of the tri-wizard tournament. Of course, this involved the death of Cedric Diggory, Hogwarts’ proper champion (since Harry’s name was added against the rules) and the resurrection of Voldemort. So not only had he woken up, barely able to stifle a scream (there would be hell to pay for waking up his relatives at 3am), but it seemed that he had managed to come down with a fever as well.

He groaned nearly silently and closed his eyes, willing the room to stop spinning as he tried to sooth his stomach by sheer will power. Of course, his stomach kept turning for several more minutes to spite him before settling down. He let out a deep breath and tried to force himself back to sleep. Of course, it was never that easy and he certainly didn’t want to risk dreaming THAT again tonight. So instead, he laid still and drifted in and out of consciousness for the rest of the night until his aunt’s screeching voice yelled up to up, “GET UP BOY! YOU NEED TO MAKE BREAKFAST BEFORE VERNON GETS UP!”

Harry shuddered softly as a chill ran through his body and he forced himself out of bed, quickly collapsing to his knees as the room spun wildly and his stomach lurched again. He swallowed hard and after a moment of steadying himself, he stood on shaky legs, making his way out of his room and into the kitchen. While he held little fear of his relatives nowadays, that was not always so. When he was younger, mainly before his first year a Hogwarts (though for quite a while after), his uncle would be quite brutal in his punishments if Harry “misbehaved”. Of course, that could include breathing too loudly. Not to mention Dudley’s games of using Harry as a punching bag and his aunt’s constant verbal abuse. Now he did his chores simply to keep the peace and to keep himself busy.

“About time! Make eggs and toast, we don’t have time for anything else, and don‘t burn anything! Vernon will give you a list of chores for today before he leaves,” Petunia ordered and slid past him out of the kitchen to rouse her husband and son. Harry nodded briefly as he pulled out a pan and plugged in the toaster. He quickly got out the bread and eggs, pausing only when he got dizzy again and had to lean against the counter to stay upright. He put the toast on to cook and cracked several eggs, making a large batch of scrambled eggs within a matter of minutes.

Due to feeling awful and concentrating on not burning the food, he didn’t notice his cousin enter the kitchen behind him. Dudley got a malicious grin, seeing that his cousin didn’t have his “freaky stick”. He waddled up behind him, peering over the shorter boy’s shoulder at the pan before he grabbed Harry by the back of the neck and his shoulders. He quickly shoved him forward, using brute strength as usual and shoved the boy’s right forearm straight into the pan of cooking eggs.

Harry shrieked instinctively out of pain and surprise before he fought to pull his arm from the scalding pan and escape his cousin’s grip. The larger boy outweighed him by a good two hundred pounds, however, and despite appearing like a large baby whale, quite a bit of it was muscle now due to boxing. He held Harry’s arm in the pan for several moments before Harry kicked back and landed his heel in Dudley’s crotch. Dudley howled in pain, releasing Harry as he backed up and cupped himself, barely keeping from collapsing to his knees.

Harry was hyperventilating by that point, gripping his wrist just above the very large and angry looking burn that covered the entire tender underside of his forearm. His head spun dangerously as he backed away from his cousin, the full reality of the situation hitting him like a ton of bricks. He had kicked Dudley in the family jewels, something he had never dared to do before, and for good reason. He started shaking as he felt his cheeks heat up even more, silent tears now coursing down his face from panic and pain as he looked around the room, realizing finally that he had to get out of there. He turned to bolt out the door, even as Dudley continued to howl and carry on, probably waking up the entire neighborhood in the process, and proceeded to run straight into the formidable figure that was his Uncle Vernon.

Harry landed on the floor, his burned arm smacking the linoleum as he did, causing him to cry out briefly as he looked up at his uncle. Vernon took in the scene; the now burning eggs, his son crumpled over holding his crotch, and the panicked Harry who was undoubtedly trying to escape. “Boy…if you have done what I think you have, you are going to pay dearly. Dudley, son, what did the freak do to you?”

Dudley couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer and Harry knew that his cousin had signed his proverbial death sentence. Though perhaps not so proverbial if the glint in his uncle’s eyes were anything to go by. “Get…to your room. Now. And don’t even think about leaving or contacting your freaky friends. I’ll not have you terrorizing my son in my own home!” He roared, gaining volume as he went and his face went from red to nearly plum in color. Harry shuddered and backed away, standing shakily as the room spun once more.

He quickly dashed from the room, considering quickly doing exactly what Vernon had said not to do. However, most of his school things were locked away in his old cupboard and only a handful of objects were in the floorboard under his bed, his wand not included. His uncle had made sure that THAT particular object was in his trunk before locking it away. Thankfully, he had left Hedwig with Hermione, so he didn’t have to worry about her safety. He was debating what he was going to do, when he heard his uncle on the phone, claiming to have a flat tire to explain that he would be late for work. Harry paled at that. His uncle usually left him to stew until after he got off work, and usually the worst of what he got was due to him drinking before coming home. But Vernon was sober, and pissed. Harry clutched the headboard of his bed tightly as nausea ran through him again. He closed his eyes and willed his stomach to behave, though it certainly seemed to have a mind of its own.

By the time he realized that the voice downstairs had quieted and that he was wasting time trying to not fall over, his uncle entered the room, kicking the door out of the way with a harsh bang. Harry glanced out the window, seeing that Petunia and Dudley were in the car, pulling out of the driveway. He paled further, knowing that it wasn’t a good sign. When he looked back to his uncle, however, he immediately saw stars and found himself on his knees after his uncle raised the belt in his hand that Harry hadn’t noticed before, and brought it hard and fast across Harry’s face, buckle first. Harry hissed in pain and surprise, raising both hands to grip the sides of his head gently, hoping to stop the room from spinning as he looked up at his uncle, whose face was still a dangerous shade of purple.

“You have put my family in danger for far too long, boy, and now I’m going to do to you what I shouldn’t have stopped doing all those years ago. Obviously not getting the snot beaten out of you has made you stupid. So allow me to refresh your memory!” He ranted at Harry, bringing down his belt with every other word on the last sentence. Harry fought with himself to keep from crying out. A few tears managed to leak out of his eyes, but he managed to stay nearly soundless except for the occasional gasp and hiss of pain.

“You know what my kind will do to you when they find out you did this to me,” Harry spat back, more bravely than he felt. “He deserved what he got!” The expression on his uncle’s face and the degree to which the vein was popping out of his forehead would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so serious. Oh well, he’s going to beat the crap out of me anyway, might as well make it worth it, he thought to himself.

A very demented grin slowly filled his uncle’s face and Harry felt his insides do a flip that had nothing to do with the illness he was fighting, “And you are going to get what you deserve, you worthless freak. You‘re going to beg me to send you to meet your worthless, filthy parents before I‘m done with you.” He picked Harry up by the neck, throwing him onto the bed and proceeded to beat Harry for a good 15 minutes with the sharp end of the belt, causing bright splotches of red to blossom all over Harry’s hand-me-down shirt that was a good four sizes too big for him.
When he stopped, Harry was whimpering and curled into a tight ball on the bed, hoping that his uncle had tired and was finished. Of course, luck just wasn’t on his side that day. His uncle turned around and rooted around the room before finding what he was looking for, an aluminum bat from when he had tried to get Dudley to play that ruddy American sport. He then turned on Harry like a man possessed and proceeded to beat Harry with all his strength with the bat, not satisfied until he heard no less than 5 satisfying cracks, one bone in his arm protruding from the burned part of his arm, causing blood to run down over his abused skin and the boy was unconscious. Tossing the bat away, he stood and contemplated doing what he had done to the boy years ago to instill fear, but knew it wouldn’t be nearly as fun if the boy wasn’t conscious and begging him to stop.

He felt a shudder of excitement run up his spine at the thought of having such control over the boy again and he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist such a treat for long. But he could wait. He straightened up his clothing and turned to leave, shutting and locking the door behind him as the boy who lived curled up on the bed gripped in a fever and the nightmare that was his mind.

The summer weeks passed idly for those at Hogwarts castle. Dumbledore had successfully called the first meeting of the reorganized Order of the Phoenix, and was proud as well as heartened by how many of the former members showed up to give their support. The meeting had been brief, updating everyone on the truth of the situation (rather than the drivel that The Daily Prophet had been printing) and asking if everyone would be willing to proceed as they had before, controlling damage and trying to thwart Death Eater activity. Of course everyone agreed, since they wouldn’t be able to escape the war anyway, they might as well take an active part in ending it.

Now Dumbledore sat in his office, filling out paperwork to submit to the Governors of the school to seek permission to strengthen the wards around the castle and its grounds. It seemed ridiculous that he would have to ASK if he could do such a thing, but rules were rules and as Headmaster, he was bound to procedure. He sighed after finishing his signature and rolled the parchment up before sealing it magically. He turned to his beloved phoenix and the bird took the scroll in his beak gently. “Take this to the Governors’ section of the ministry, you know where to go,” he murmured softly to the bird, patting his feathers briefly before vanishing in a ball of flames.

Dumbledore smiled in affection for his familiar and sat back to stretch his weary back for a moment. When he looked back to his desk, however, his eye caught something that had not been there before. A stack of somethings, to be precise. He picked up the bundle of envelopes carefully after scanning them with his wand for anything dangerous. The paper was yellowed with age and he furrowed his brow, wondering exactly how they had gotten there, or if old age was catching up with him and he simply did not remember them. When he saw the letter on top was addressed to him, he knew it wasn’t old age and that the letters had simply appeared on his desk.

He disentangled the letter from the top gently and readjusted his spectacles and opened the envelope, a blue flash of light on it showing that he had broken the magical seal and that it hadn‘t been tampered with. As he began to read, he barely noticed the return of Fawkes to his perch with a flash of fire.

Dear Headmaster,

This may come as a bit of a shock, but I assure you that you are not imagining these letters just appearing. I timed them as exactly as I could with a time-delay charm. They are to appear 3 days before my dear Harry’s 15th birthday. This is especially important, since you know that wizards reach their magical maturity at 15 and I fear the charms on him will not survive the burst of power.

Please give the other letters to whom they are addressed, if you do not, the charm will know and will do it for you, but I’d much rather have you do it. The one below this one is for Severus Snape, and I hope you can track him down after all these years. The one below that is for Harry. Of course, if you have received these letters, then it means that James and I are dead and I can only hope that Harry is being raised by Sirius. He will need all the support he can get after this, and I can only be glad that he is not with my sister. Such an arrangement could prove deadly for my dear son, as my sister hates anything to do with magic with a passion, as does her husband.

I have written these letters to inform the three of you of a secret I have kept that only I know about, not even James. James is not Harry’s father. As you know, Severus and I dated in school and ended on amiable terms when he became a spy for you. Soon after, I gave into James’ persistent bothering and began dating him. We got married, of course, and have had Harry. However, not everything is as fairytale-like as it seems. I came home from Healer training one night to find James in a compromising position with one of his girlfriends from school.

I was distraught and left before he could say or do anything, and as Severus was and still is my best friend, I naturally went to him. Unfortunately, we both had a bit too much fire whiskey, emotions took over, and we slept together. I do not regret it, however, seeing as how James had been doing it behind my back for who knows how long. Well, I went home and James and I fought, but finally reconciled. We agreed to go through with the marriage the following week and put the infidelity behind us. Of course, being as good at Charms as I am, I cast a fidelity charm on both of us, to ensure it would not happen again. I am sure you know that if it is broken, it causes debilitating pain and eventually death.

A few weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. And while James and I consummated the marriage on our honeymoon, as soon as Harry was born, it was clear to me that James was not the father. James, thankfully, was too thrilled to have a son to notice that he resembled me and someone other than himself. So when he rushed out to inform everyone of the birth, I cast several strong glamour charms on Harry. Unfortunately in my zeal to keep my secret, I ended up making Harry almost an exact carbon copy of James, the only trait of mine that he retained was my eye color.

James still, to this day, does not know, and I hope that he never finds out. When Harry is 10, I will have to strengthen the charms to make them permanent, but if you have received this letter, than we were betrayed by Peter Pettigrew (we changed secret keepers to him from Sirius) and I am dead and unable to do so. When Harry hits his majority, he will begin to change physically. I do not know the extent of the changes, but it could be drastic. It will not be immediate, but as the charms wear off, he will gradually come into his true appearance.

Please give these letters to Severus and Harry; they need to know the truth before it hits them like a rock. If you cannot get the letters to them before Harry’s birthday, then please be ready to support Harry mentally when he finds out. He NEEDS as much love and help as he can get, especially since James and Severus did not get along and if he knows Harry at all, he might treat him the same due to the charms causing him to look like James.

It is my wish that Severus steps up, takes responsibility, and becomes a father to Harry, but of course, that may be too much to hope for. I should have told him when I knew, but by that point, he was so deeply into his spying role that I could not risk it. Please help him understand that Harry needs him, especially if James and I are dead, and while Sirius can take care of Harry, he is not a father. Sirius may turn hostile towards Harry when he finds out, as well, so Harry could very well be alone in this without you and Severus.

Please take care of my baby and help him as much as you can. I can only hope that things will work out well. Thank you Albus, for everything you have done for us.

-Sincerely Yours,

Lily Evans-Potter

Dumbledore sat in shock after reading the desperate letter. To say he was surprised would be an understatement, but he knew what he had to do. Summoning the courage, he wrote out a brief note to Severus, telling him to read the note when he is alone and to allow himself a few days to think about the content. He was then to come to Dumbledore’s office in 3 days time, on Harry’s birthday, to discuss what would be done. He attached the note to the envelope and passed it to Fawkes. “Please take this to Severus and make haste,” he said softly, his eyes shining with too many emotions and thoughts. Fawkes trilled softly, realizing the state of his master and took the note, quickly vanishing.

Dumbledore returned to his seat and sat heavily, massaging his temples with his fingertips as he wondered what he could do. The part of the note that stuck out in his mind and kept replaying like a broken record was Lily’s description of her sister. Had he made a terrible mistake by sending Harry there? He planned to retrieve the boy shortly after his birthday, so did not think it dire to retrieve him early. After all, he had lived there 14 years, what was 4 more days? It gave him four more days to plan how he was going to help the boy cope with the reality and changes that were going to hit him without warning.

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Severus Snape stood over one of his cauldrons, concentrating intently on the bubbling concoction within. He was helping refill the potion stores in the Infirmary and was on his fourth batch of pepper-up potion. He looked up at the sudden appearance of Fawkes in a fireball and the bird fluttered to the table, landing quietly a few feet from him, waiting patiently with an envelope and note in his beak. Severus sighed, shaking his head lightly and worked on the potion until he brought it to a point where it could simmer and he moved to the bird, taking the letter. He idly scratched Fawkes’ neck as he skimmed over the note, his eyes narrowing as he finished it.

Now his curiosity was piqued and he set the note down, looking over the envelope. The handwriting was familiar and the envelope was aged quite a bit. He sat down on one of the stools surrounding his workstation and worked the envelope open. The flash of blue light occurred again to signify the seal had been broken and he took out the folded letter from within. He unfolded it with growing trepidation, laid it flat on the table, and began to read.

The letter was very much the same in content as Dumbledore’s, with only a change in tone since Lily was writing to a dear friend rather than her former school headmaster. Severus’ sallow face grew paler by the minute as he continued to read, his stomach doing unpleasant flops as the reality of the situation started to creep up on him. When he was finished, he sat in stony silence, the only sound in the room being Fawkes’ soft crooning and the light bubbling of the potion.

Severus’ mind was at a frozen standstill, barely able to grasp everything that the letter had said. Lily was pregnant with my son? Harry bloody Potter is MY son? He is going to look more like me rather than James when the charms wear off? Harry Potter is my BLOODY fucking son?! Severus felt slightly ill at the knowledge that his son was that spoiled arrogant brat and that he had treated him exactly as she assumed he would. He felt sheepish for being predictable but could not bring himself to be 100% sorry for it. The apologetic nature of Lily’s letter kept him from being angry with her for long and soon he felt a slight feeling of despair come over him as he realized what could have been had Voldemort not started his bloody war.

Severus shuddered and shook his head to clear it a bit before he gently folded the letter back up and pocketed it. He finished the potion without having to think about it, since he had made it countless times before. He left the potion to cool and retreated to his private quarters, quickly digging out the fire whiskey. He briefly recalled that it was fire whiskey that had put him into this mess in the first place and that had driven Lily to such desperate measures to protect her son and herself.

He shook his head once more and sat heavily with a glass of whiskey in one hand, the bottle in the other, which he set on the reading table beside him. He stared into the fire in his fireplace and became lost in his memories of his best friend and the nightmare that was now his son and responsibility. Lily made it quite clear that she hoped that he would come forth and claim his son and become the father to him that James and Sirius were unable to be. He felt his stomach turn unpleasantly at the thought and knew that no force on earth or in heaven, short of a mind-blowing, earth-shattering event, was going to cause him to take Harry bloody Potter as his son.