Harry Potter stood facing his mortal enemy, green eyes flashing with the promise of death and destruction.

"You killed my father!" Harry shouted at the top of his lungs to be heard above the tempest that raged around the two men. The wind was born of the fury that resided within the seventh year student. Black hair swirling in a frayed frame around his face, Harry watched his enemy.

"I did not kill your father," the reply was snatched by the whirl of magical current and deposited in Harry's ear.

Harry opened his mouth to curse the man, but before a sound could escape his throat four words punched him in the face.

"I. Am. Your. Father."

The wand in his hand lowered an inch. It could not be true! Years of pent up rage and hatred were spilling out in wild magic that adopted angry red and ice blue hues. Sparkles of power and intent spilled into the air and then, squaring his jaw, Harry raised his wand again.

"You lie." It was said too softly for even his own hearing to pick up.

Focusing all his energy on the man standing in front of him, Harry spoke the words of a spell that would maim and destroy: Avada Kadavra. His mouth formed the unforgivable curse and spat it out into the wind.

The only thing that came out of his wand was a ‘zap'. Useless, impotent and surprising. Harry blinked and looked down at his hand. The wand had transformed into a muggle laser toy complete with sound effects. The wind died down and then disappeared into a whisper.

Harry looked over at his arch nemesis and froze. It was no longer Voldemort... It was Severus Snape.

- - -

Harry jerked awake with a strangled cry. Breathing sharply, he looked around himself and tried to grasp onto the reality of his dorm room. The maroon and gold hugged by darkened shadows helped him to relax. Familiarity... home.

Taking a deep breath he held it for a moment before releasing it. Exhaling all the anxiety that had been brought on by the strange dream. Shaking his head, Harry flopped his head back on the pillow and let his eyes slide closed.

- - -

In potions class the next day, Harry's gaze kept getting drawn to the front of the classroom where Severus was seated behind his large desk. The dream kept replaying in his head and Harry had to wonder if there was anything to it. Hermione had insisted that dreams were a manifestation of the subconscious. Harry was worried about what it might mean. 

Twenty minutes later, Severus was making his rounds when he stopped beside Harry's cauldron with a critical eye. Without a single word, he moved on to the next table. Harry relaxed a fraction. It was only a dream after all, he tried to convince himself. There was no way that Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House, was his own personal Darth Vader. 

Black robes billowed out behind him as Severus stalked back to his desk, his dark hair creating a mask in a familiar shape. Harry caught a glimpse of Snape's shadow on the far wall and gulped. Then again...