July 30, 1996

Severus Snape hissed in pain. The book he had been holding fell with a thump to the ground, but he didn’t look to the book, instead he had pulled his sleeve up and his eyes rested on the mark that burned against his arm, the snake moving—slithering—on his arm, attached to the skull. He grimaced, gritting his teeth and then as if coming to a decision he was up and he was walking out of the room, through the doors, down the stairs. As he went he brought out his wand and he changed his clothes with a flick of it, his mask appearing in his hand.

He could hear no one was awake even though there was a light from the kitchen. He ignored it, however, and instead walked out the door and apparated from the step.

They were mostly already there, except for two of their group. Severus knew who they were immediately from the spots that were left open. Nott and McNair had gotten a mission during the last meeting and it appeared they were not back yet.

“Late, Severus,” Voldemort said.

Severus said nothing until he was standing next to Draco who once more stood stiff next to his father, though this time he had the cover of his death eater garment to hide more of his facial expressions if anything.

“I am sorry, master, for arriving late but I was not in the position to leave the moment I felt your call.”

He had been stupid to let his thoughts get the best of him. He hadn’t been sleeping great lately or at all. He could blame that on Harry Potter—the occlumency lessons were affecting him far more than he wanted to admit.

“At eleven o’clock in the evening, Severus?”

If he had felt any fear at the almost calm voice that Voldemort was using Severus did not show it. “Yes. I was brewing with Poppy Pomfrey for the infirmary.” He said, his voice unwavering.

Voldemort seemed to have taken the excuse, but he said nothing to admit he did. Severus, however, knowing fully well how the dark lord’s mind worked knew he had taken it and felt better, even though now he knew that anything would get him tortured.

“Did you know, Severus, that the wards around Potter’s home weakened a great deal on this night? That at this very moment they are getting so weak that I could probably walk into them.”

This was news to Severus. The shocked expression that came to his face was not fake.

“Ah, I see you did not know,” Voldemort said. “Pity for Harry Potter, then.”

Severus took a moment before asking the question. “Are you attacking his home tonight?” He asked casually.

“Nott,” He announced to all of them. “Has taken a group of death eaters to four Privet Drive, in fact he should be back now with Potter.”

Severus nodded, but said nothing.

“It is perhaps an interesting fact, that on the night—mere hours—before Harry Potter’s birthday that the boy should die. A fitting present for the boy, I believe.” He laughed, his death eaters joined him.

Severus did not laugh, but he noticed the fake sound to Lucius Malfoy’s and the fact that Draco Malfoy did not laugh but clasped his hands together, wringing them.

Their cruel laughter had died out before the crack of apparition came from somewhere to the left of Severus, and he could see, as had been expected that the man had come empty handed.

“He wasn’t there, My Lord,” He said. “Potter was gone, none of his belongings remained. He was simply gone. We killed his aunt and uncle; his cousin threw himself out the window and died instantly. The house was burnt, by the time we were gone aurors had arrived but none of your faithful have been caught. I dismissed them, My Lord, soon after and came straight here.”

Voldemort’s eyes flashed. Severus already knew what was coming. He accepted it; it was part of the role he played. He could do nothing about it, but take it in stride and he was ready. The spell was shot at him, no explanation was needed, they both knew what it was about. Severus had withheld information in the eyes of Voldemort, and even if he had not had the information, he should have had some idea as to what was happening.

Pain wrestled through him—excruciatingly he screamed. He felt as if his body was burning and needles were being pushed into every inch of his skin, and then the spell stopped.

Severus remained on the ground for a couple of minutes before he stood up gingerly. He held himself as normally as possible, ignoring the pain that still ran through him.

Voldemort had already finished punishing Nott and then he was calling Lucius forward. Severus couldn’t hear what Lucius had said but then he was writhing on the ground and his screams echoed around them.

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July 31, 1996

They were still sitting in the drawing room, even though Snape had finished telling them the events of the meeting. Dumbledore was staring into the fire, while Remus looked thoughtfully at Snape. Snape had his eyes closed and was looking at the ceiling, calmly, even though Harry knew that the man couldn’t possibly be calm. From time to time he could still see him shudder—after effects of the cruciatus.

“Albus,” Remus broke in a moment later.

Dumbledore turned to look at Remus. “Yes?”

“If there is nothing else, a box arrived for Harry earlier, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it, but it would be best if you checked for any spells I might have missed.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Where is it?”

“Harry’s room,” Remus answered and walked to the door, leading Dumbledore out of the room.

Harry looked after them and continued staring at the door long after that. He shifted in his chair and looked away from the door, surprised to meet Snape’s eyes on him.

“Why?” Harry found himself asking.

“Why did I let you stay,” Snape said. “What I said to the headmaster is true. Black often said, during meetings, that you needed to be told at least certain things, but there are many people that care for you who do not understand the difference between what you need and what they want you to need.

“Molly Weasley and many others felt you needed a childhood, you needed to just be not with so many worries. It’s clear to me that you need something like this too but you can’t have it, and that is stronger. To protect you from knowledge of what is going on would be like handing you to him.”

Harry frowned, but said nothing and allowed Snape to continue, but Snape did not but instead he stood up and walked to the window.

“I hated you,” Snape said. “Hated you for who I thought you were. Misconceptions on my part but for the last two weeks, sharing the thoughts we have shared, I understand who and what you are, Potter—Harry—, and maybe this changed what I know is needed for this war.” With that said Snape turned and left the room.

Harry once more wondered—like he had in the past few weeks—if Severus Snape knew about the prophecy, it wasn’t like he could be completely sure Dumbledore had told no one.

Harry entered his room a few minutes later to find Dumbledore pointing his wand at a medium sized wooden box.

“Nothing on it as far as I can tell, except for the remnants of a time-send spell. Can’t be completely sure as to the time it was put on but it seems perfectly fine.”

Remus nodded while stifling a yawn. “I’ll be heading off to bed then,” he announced. “Night, Harry.”

Harry nodded and watched him go.

“It is a precious thing, a gift from someone in the past or the future,” Dumbledore told Harry and turned to leave the room.

“Professor,” Harry said.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Who knows about the prophecy other than the two of us, that is?” Harry asked.

“Professor Snape. Sirius also knew it, as did your parents. No other order members have heard it, and they won’t unless they need to.”

Harry nodded and said nothing else. He shouldn’t be so surprised that Snape not only knew about it, but also knew what it was. Dumbledore trusted Snape beyond anyone else, which had always been something that bothered him before but now didn’t bother him in the least.

Dumbledore left the room and Harry listened to his footsteps recede before he turned to the box and set it down on his bed, opening it. The first thing he noticed was the worn thin black leather bound book which sat next to two potions phials filled to the rim by something he recognized as memories. Harry reached for the book first, knowing he would have to wait for the morning to view the memories if Snape was in any sort of good mood. Despite the fact that he and the potions master were on better terms these days, their relationship was far from a good one. Snape was still a snarky bastard even if Harry was starting to recognize more of his more morbid humor.

Harry had been wary of diaries and journals since his second year but this one did not seem to have any sort of dark magic interlaid with it, so as he opened it, Harry was not in particular worried as to what would be written inside.

The first page was blank but Harry found an envelope in between the cover and that page. He decided to open the envelope first and read what was inside it before proceeding with the book, so with that thought with trembling fingers he opened the envelope and pulled out five pieces of folded parchment. He unfolded them, slowly, and quickly looked for the signature of whoever had send him this, when he found it he dropped the pieces of parchment and with eyes wide, hands shaking, and a number of thoughts running through his head, Harry picked up the letter and took in the three words at the beginning of the letter.

My Dearest Son,

Harry felt a tear roll down his cheek and wiped it away. He folded the letter and threw it back into the box with the book, closing it and setting it down gently underneath his bed so he didn’t have to see it. He wouldn’t read the letter, he wouldn’t look at the memories, he wouldn’t even bother with the book.

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“We shall not be having a lesson today, it seems,” Snape said the next morning with a sneer directed not at Harry but Remus.

Harry frowned. “Why not?” He asked.

“It’s your birthday, Potter,” Snape told him. “Apparently celebration is needed.”

Harry grinned at the man sitting across from him drinking tea though he made no move to thank him. Harry knew better than to expect a happy birthday or Snape to admit that it had been his idea to let him off occlumency lessons for the day, but he appreciated it all the same.

“So what exactly will happen tonight?” Harry asked Remus.

“Ah, that would be telling,” Remus said, then as if to change the subject. “I’m curious, what was in the box.”

This sobered up Harry instantly. “I rather not talk about it,” he muttered.

Snape looked at Harry with an odd expression but said nothing. Harry was grateful for that as he finished his breakfast and left the room.

He didn’t know where he was going until he was in Sirius’ room, sitting in front of Sirius’ bed, leaning back against it. How many times had he wished to have something from his parents even if it was the smallest of things? This letter was nothing short of a miracle, but he didn’t want it. He didn’t want whatever it was they were giving him, not when that would be the end of it.

Harry closed his eyes. Curiosity, he decided, would be the death of him, but for the time being he would ignore it. He didn’t need to read the letter his father had written him, neither did he need to look at that diary, whose ever it had been. He wouldn’t look at the memories either, not when they no doubt would hold them within—for him to see and not touch.

An hour later he heard the screams of Mrs. Black begin when the doorbell rang.

“Why did you ring the doorbell?” Someone shouted.

“Bloody Gryffindor!” Snape yelled.

Harry found himself smiling as he heard even further arguing, but the shouts of Mrs. Black being put to rest. Then the voices quieted and Harry heard four people climb the stairs. He heard a door down the hall open and a shout of his name.

Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the door. It was Fred who saw him and grinned, poking his twin brother but putting a finger to his lips. Harry heard Fred say something about going to check something out in another room and that Harry was probably in the library before they took Harry each by the arm and closed the door to Sirius’ room behind them.

“Guys, what—”

“We hoped to get you alone,” Fred said. “This is as good a time as any.”

“Alright, what then?” Harry asked.

“Well,” George began. “It’s like this.” He stopped and shared a look with his brother.

Fred sighed. “Fine, I guess I’ll tell him.” Fred nodded to himself and seemed about ready to tell Harry whatever it was, but the door opened and Ron and Hermione glared at the twins.

“You can talk to him later,” Hermione said, taking Harry’s hand and pulling him out of the room.

Curiosity killed the cat. That was his mantra, right? So, if he was going to go with that, he would not be curious about what the twins wanted to tell him, instead he would push away the curiosity. He wasn’t curious about the box under his bed and he was not curious about what the twins wanted to tell him, and lastly he was not at all curious as to how he would be celebrating his birthday.

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“We’re going to Diagon Alley,” Ron told Harry half an hour later as he won their game of chess. “We just have to wait for Tonks. She, Remus, and the twins are our so called guard, but tons of aurors patrol Diagon Alley daily there’s like no point to it. Anyway, we’ll finally get to see Weasley Wizard Wheezes.”

Harry said nothing but watched transfixed as one of his pieces was thrown off the chessboard.

“Harry?”

Harry looked towards Hermione lounging on his bed with a book propped open.

“What are you studying with Professor Snape?”

“You’re getting lessons from Snape!” Ron said outraged.

Harry sighed. “Occlumency.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “But, wouldn’t Dumbledore be better at, you know, teaching you.”

Harry answered almost immediately, “no.”

Both Hermione and Ron stared at him, waiting for him to continue. Harry didn’t know what he could say to them. They would never believe that he trusted Snape, or even that Snape was remotely human.

“Well, I’m kind of mad at Dumbledore for a lot of things, and really Snape is doing much better this time around. I don’t know, maybe it’s that I want to learn but we’re getting somewhere.”

Hermione nodded, yet frowned, but she said nothing.

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“Surprise!”

Harry was not surprised, not after Fred and George had warned him about it when he had gone into the back room of their shop to look at the things in development.

Fred and George had finally got to talking to him privately as well as given him quite a large bag of new items so that he could advertise once Hogwarts begun again. Harry was thinking of simply giving them away.

“You didn’t have to,” Harry told Mrs. Weasley who seemed to have instigated the entire thing.

“Nonsense, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, pulling him into an embrace.

Harry pulled away moments later and suddenly found himself being passed from person to person until he was suddenly pushed into Snape, who sneered at him and pushed him to the side.

“Professor!” Harry said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Yes, so am I, the day I get bullied by a werewolf into going to a birthday party will no doubt be the strangest day of my life,” Snape told him. “So far, it has been very strange indeed.”

Harry grinned. “Well, thank you for being here.”

Snape did not smile; he did not show appreciation for what Harry had just said, but the slight quirk of his lips allowed Harry to see that Snape was nevertheless glad that Harry appreciated his coming. The next thing that Snape said—Harry was sure this was the way Snape meant it—was meant to stipulate any remotely non-Snape like actions Snape had done.

“I shall however stay no longer than ten minutes, Potter, I do have more important things to do than celebrate your birthday. Now, go on, talk to the rest of this motley group of people.”

Harry smiled and walked away.

“Do remember, Potter, I gave you a day off today, we shall work harder tomorrow.”

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Two hours later everyone had been fed and watered. Snape had remained in a corner throughout the entire night reading though Harry had seen him levitate two pieces of cake.

“Present time!” Chirped Ginny.

Harry smiled at the red head and nodded in agreement. A pile of presents appeared in front of him. He reached for the first box and began unwrapping it. Inside he found a book and a note from Hermione.

To help you close your mind.

Harry smiled and mouthed a thank you to Hermione, handing the book to Snape who had been lurking in the corner behind him. The man raised his eyebrows and looked towards Hermione, before nodding at Harry. No one noticed the exchange.

Ron handed Harry the next present, but before Harry could open it, there was a loud crash and in the middle of the room, the wooden box Harry had stashed under his bed sat.

“What the—” Ron began.

“No,” Harry groaned turning away so that no one could see the tears that lingered in his eyes, and then when looking towards it again, he shook his head. “I don’t want to see it,” He said to the room. “Just—just take it away. I—I’ll open the rest tomorrow.” With that said Harry walked to the door. “I want to be alone,” he added lastly before leaving.

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“Everyone’s gone,” Snape said from the doorway.

Harry barely nodded. He’d been staring at the wall for the past hour and continued to do so, now.

“It wasn’t for you,” Snape continued. “It was for me.”

Harry swirled around to face him. “For you, but—”

Snape stepped farther into the room. “I haven’t opened it,” He told Harry. “I won’t open it until you open yours.”

“I have,” Harry said. “There’s nothing in there that I need nor want.”

Snape looked at him oddly. “You are not a coward, Potter!” Snape snapped at him. “Now you will take out the box from where ever it is you are hiding it and you will look at what is inside it, and I will stand right here until you do it.”

Harry was surprised at the strange ferocity that Snape was giving him, and he wasn’t even calling him names or telling him how worthless he was.

“No,” Harry said, however.

“Then I shall remain here all night,” Snape told him matter-of-factly.

Harry glared at him like the petulant child, but climbed under the bed and retrieved the box, with shaking fingers. He didn’t want to know what the letter said. He didn’t want to know what they could possibly want to tell him through their diary, and more importantly, he desperately wanted some idea as to whether everything in the letter would make his life worse or better.

Harry tried to ignore the other presence in the room as he took out the envelope again and took the letter out. Without glancing at Snape he read the first three words out loud.

“My Dearest Son.” Harry looked at Snape. “Interesting enough for you?” He asked, bitterly.

Snape said nothing but he walked towards Harry and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It is rather ungrateful to not read that letter which was no doubt as hard for you to read as it was for them to read.”

Harry shrugged Snape’s hand off. “I want to be left alone by the dead.”

“That will never happen. Read it. I’ll leave you to it,” Snape said, picking up his own box. “Something must be important for James Potter to send me something. I must say I rather am curious.”

Snape turned to leave.

“Stay,” Harry said in a small voice.

“Whatever for?”

“I won’t read it if you don’t,” Harry explained.

Snape looked unsure of what to do. Harry motioned for him to sit, and looked once more at the letter.

“My Dearest Son,” He began reading.