Late that night, the boy in question lay on the ground in the Hut-on-the-Rock. He had no covers to speak of, as he had instead elected to fold up the single ragged and moth-eaten blanket his Aunt Petunia had given him and use it as a pillow instead. Harry was not, despite the lateness of the hour, sleeping however. At some point during the night his cousin arm had slipped off the couch he was sleeping on, allowing Harry to watch Dudley's wristwatch as the minutes slowly ticked down to his eleventh birthday. He expected the Dursley's to give the event even less attention this year than they had in previous years, leaving Harry in the uncomfortable position of wondering whether it was worse to get deliberately bad gifts, like the coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, or to have the event ignored altogether. But still, it wasn't every day that you turned eleven, so Harry eagerly watched the seconds tick past.

 At 11:59 there was a sharp crack of thunder (he must have missed the lightning), that sounded disturbingly close. Harry looked around worriedly at the unsteady walls of the shack. The rain and wind were bad enough as it was, and he wasn't sure if the hut could continue standing if the thunderstorm got any worse.

 It turned out to be quite fortunate Harry wasn't asleep, as he might have otherwise missed the sharp knock that sounded on the door just a few seconds later.  Harry hesitated for only a moment before jumping up to answer the door. He was pretty sure that anyone who was desperate (and strange) enough to leave a hundred or so copies of the exact same letter at the front desk of a shabby hotel would also be desperate enough to come to a run-down hut on rock not really big enough to be classified as an island in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm.  Harry figured if he hurried he might get a chance to talk to whoever it was before the Dursleys woke up. Stumbling and squinting slightly, he had forgotten to put on his glasses in his haste, Harry made his way to the door. He tried to move as quietly as possible; Dudley slept like the dead, but Harry didn't want to risk waking up his aunt or uncle. Opening the door revealed a tall, thin man who appeared to be completely dry, making Harry wonder if his eyesight was worse than he assumed. He thought he heard a small gasp escape from the man, but must have been mistaken as the man's voice was perfectly calm and even when he spoke up a moment later.

 "Mr. Potter I assume?"

 "Yes, I'm Harry Potter sir," Harry replied almost automatically. The whole thing was so strange Harry wasn't really sure how he was supposed to act, so he decided the best thing to do was just be as polite as possible until he figured out what exactly was going on. To that end Harry opened the door a little wider and stepped out of the man's way. "Please come in sir." Once the man was inside Harry quickly closed the door before any more rain could get in. He turned back to the man and, still trying to be polite, Harry offered his hand, "Pleased to meet you Mr. ..." Here he trailed off, force to confront the rather uncomfortable fact that he had no clue who the man he had just invited in the house was. Not that he regretted it, no one should be forced to stay outside in a thunderstorm, but Harry would have felt a lot better if he knew who the man was.

 After a short pause the man took Harry's hand in his own and shook it. "I am Professor Severus Snape." A professor! Well that was alright then. Harry hadn't ever met a professor before, but he knew that's what they called teachers at uni, and teachers were usually good people. "You may," the Professor continued, "continue to address me as sir, or you may call me professor if you prefer."

 "Yes sir," Harry replied, gratified to find he had made the right choice in being polite. Teachers always wanted you to be respectful, and Professor Snape sure seemed to appreciate it. The Professor was currently giving Harry an appraising look, or at least Harry thought he was. His poor vision made it so all the man's features tended to blend together.

 "Why are you squinting at me, Mr. Potter?" Harry's eyes flew open as the boy hastened to correct his mistake. Sometimes when he couldn't see well he would start squinting and not even realize it, but Harry was fairly certain that squinting at someone was not considered respectful behavior.

 "I'm sorry Professor; I forgot to put on my glasses before I opened the door for you."

 "Go put them on then," replied Professor Snape, as if it were completely obvious, which, to be fair, it was. Harry had been wanting to do just that since he had open the door, how else was he supposed to get a good look at Professor Snape, but he hadn't really been sure how to do it without being rude. Now that he had Professor Snape's permission Harry scrambled over to his glasses, which were still sitting on the floor next to his make-shift pillow. Harry quickly jammed the glasses on his face before turning to get his first real look at the Professor.

 Harry's first thought was that the name Severus fit the man. He certainly was rather severe looking; with a scowl that Harry was pretty sure was Professor Snape's neutral expression, and long black robes that only served to make him look more intimidating, rather than rather silly as Harry would have guessed they might. He had a hooked nose and dark eyes, which were framed by black hair that hung rather limply and looked a bit greasy to Harry. Still, if Professor Snape was the one sending Harry the letters, then he must care about Harry at least a little bit. Caring was a nearly unprecedented concept for Harry, so it seemed a little ungrateful to complain about the package it came in.

 The addition of his glasses also allowed Harry to see that he had been correct earlier; the professor didn't appear to have a drop of water on him. This made absolutely no sense to Harry, who felt like he was soaked (well he was damp at least) just from standing in the doorway for a minute. He doubted that even the world's best umbrella could have gotten Professor Snape out of that storm without getting at least a little wet. "Sir? Why aren't you wet? It's raining really hard out there."

The professor gave Harry a Look before replying "Magic, Mr. Potter." Harry frowned at that. "Magic" was the kind of non-answer he would expect from Dudley, not a teacher. Teachers were supposed to answer questions and make sure you understood what they were telling you. But then maybe things were different for professors? Or maybe because Harry wasn't one of Professor Snape's students the Professor wasn't obliged to give him an answer. It still wasn't very nice though. Fuming silently, Harry didn't notice the measuring look Professor Snape was giving him and so was somewhat startled when the man started talking again. "You appear to be about as well informed as I anticipated. We will have to rouse your guardians," Professor Snape spat out the word, as though to rid it from his mouth as quickly as possible, "at some point. However, the explanations will likely take a long while, and I wish to spend as little time in your Aunt's presence as possible. Therefore I suggest we not wake them until necessary."

Harry readily agreed with Professor Snape's suggestion. He didn't know how the man knew Aunt Petunia, but Harry could sympathize with anyone who wanted to stay far away from her. Besides Harry figured he had a better chance of hearing whatever Professor Snape had to say now than he would after the Dursleys woke up.  At Harry's consent Professor Snape's frown deepened. Harry wasn't sure why the Professor would be upset that Harry was doing what he wanted, but it must not have been too big a deal, since the Professor didn't say anything. Instead he reached into a pocket in his robes and pulled out a letter. "Here is your letter Mr. Potter. I believe you've been sent a number of these, but have not yet received one."

Harry nodded as he reached to take the letter. "Yes sir. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon wouldn't let me have one. Uncle Vernon said it was a mistake and the letters weren't meant for me, but I don't see how. The first letter even had my cupboard on it."

"Your cupboard?" Oops. Harry wasn't supposed to talk about the cupboard, especially not to teachers. The last person he had told about the cupboard had been one of his teachers in primary. She had thought Harry was telling a story, and gushed about his "active imagination" to Aunt Petunia on parent-teacher night. His aunt had been less than pleased, yelling Harry's ear off on the way home, and then he had been locked into his cupboard without food for two full days. When Harry had finally been let out (two days feels like an eternity when you're seven, after all), Uncle Vernon had told Harry in no uncertain terms that he was not to mention that he slept in a cupboard again, "lest he suffer the consequences." His uncle hadn't been clear on what the consequences would be exactly, but Harry knew he didn't want to find out. And yet he had just, casual as you pleased, mentioned his cupboard to a complete stranger. And a professor, no less!

Luckily it appeared that Professor Snape was a good deal nicer than his relatives. After watching Harry squirm about uncomfortably for a minute, the man had retracted his question. "Never mind Potter, just open your letter."

Harry shot the Professor a grateful glance before turning his attention to the letter. The new one was also addressed in green ink, although this one read: Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, The Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. Harry wondered idly why the letters were always addressed to where he was sleeping as he opened the envelope. He pulled the parchment out to read, but didn't make it past the letterhead. "This says ‘Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,'" Harry said, casting an uncertain look up at Professor Snape.

"Good to know you are, in fact, capable of reading Potter."

"But magic... it's not real, is it?" Harry asked hesitantly, remembering the Professor's answer to Harry's earlier query. At his question Professor Snape merely raised an eyebrow. He then reached into his robes, pulling out a stick, which he then waved at the fireplace while saying something that sounded like "Incendio." The fireplace obligingly burst into flame, adding a bit of warmth and cheer to the dingy hut.

The sudden roar of the fire made Harry automatically look to the door of the other room, where his aunt and uncle were sleeping. He had little doubt that Dudley could sleep through the noise, indeed his cousin's snores hadn't so much as paused, despite the conversation going on only a few feet away. But Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon might have been disturbed by the sound and decide to come investigate, which Harry was certain wouldn't turn out well for him. He watched the door for a few seconds, but he was eventually reassured that none of his relatives were going to wake up.

That's when it hit him that Professor Snape had just done magic. Real magic! He had waved his stick- magic wand- and said some funny nonsense- a magic word- at the fireplace and all the sudden there was a fire. It was all Harry could do to stare at the Professor in open awe.

"Mr. Potter," snapped the Professor, breaking Harry out of his reverie, "while your surprise is by no means unexpected, that does not mean you need to let it be emblazoned across your face like a billboard. It is also no excuse for letting slip the manners you have proven yourself capable of showing." Abashed, Harry quickly looked away and closed his mouth, before sneaking a short glance back at the Professor. The man certainly sounded irritated, but he was not, Harry decided, actually angry. Besides he had just complimented Harry on his manners, making him the first person Harry could ever remember doing so. Still, even if Professor Snape wasn't angry, best play it safe.

"Yes sir, sorry." The professor gave a small nod to show his acceptance of the apology before gesturing that Harry should continue reading his letter. He complied, and by the time Harry had reached the Deputy Headmistress's signature at the end his mind was abuzz with so many question he was practically mute with the force of them. Finally one managed to sneak its way out past the others. "What does it mean, they await my owl sir?"

At this Professor Snape's frown deepened, convincing Harry that he must have somehow asked the wrong question. "Let me see that letter, Potter." Harry meekly handed the letter and envelope back to Professor Snape, only half aware of what he was doing through his inner state of turmoil. He had asked the wrong question, and now he wouldn't be allowed to go to Hogwarts and learn magic. Knowledge of owls must be required to learn magic (his panic-stricken brain was in no shape to realize how little sense that made) and Harry had just gone and proved his ignorance. He was so wrapped up in his self-accusations he didn't notice Professor Snape skimming over the parchment and checking inside of envelope, and so was quite startled when the Professor spoke up again. "In answer to your question, wizards send their post by owl. Though why the Headmaster sent you this version of the letter rather than the Muggleborn letter is beyond me."

 He had been sent the wrong version of the letter? Did that mean that he wasn't going to be kept from learning magic because he didn't know anything about owls? Though now that he had calmed down a bit the idea of owl trivia being a necessary prerequisite for learning magic did sound a bit stupid. Still, Harry had had enough experience with disappointment to know better than to get his hopes up before he knew exactly what was going on. "Does that mean they sent me the wrong copy of the acceptance letter sir? And what does Muggleborn mean?"

"Muggle," Professor Snape replied, "is a term the magical community uses to refer to people without any magical powers. A Muggleborn is a witch or wizard who is born to two Muggle parents. Muggleborns are given different letters than those students with magical parents in order to better explain their magic to them." Relief washed over Harry like a wave. The Professor wasn't taking the letter to tell him that he couldn't go to Hogwarts after all; Professor Snape just wanted to check that Harry really had been sent the wrong letter.

"Does that mean my parents were Muggles sir?" Harry asked.

"Of course not," Professor Snape answered, sounding indignant at the very idea. "I merely meant that the people who have been... watching you are Muggles and you would therefore benefit from receiving the Muggleborn letter rather than the standard one."

"Er, sir? If my parents were wizards then why," Harry paused, not sure he wanted the answer to the question he was about to ask, "why did they die in that car crash?"

"Car crash?" The professor's voice had gone low and silky and for one wild moment Harry wished he felt like he could wake up the Dursleys. "Who told you that?" Snape demanded.

"My aunt and uncle, sir," Harry answered, doing his utmost to control the quavering in his voice.

"That is a vicious lie, Mr. Potter, and you would do well not to repeat it. The true story of your parent's death is one better told in the light of day, but they were not killed in something as mundane in a car crash. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes sir, I'm sorry sir, I won't say it again," said Harry, utterly terrified at this point.

Professor Snape took a deep breath and moments later had returned from absolutely petrifying to only somewhat intimidating "Calm down Potter, I'm not angry at you. You were lied to by those who were supposed to be taking care of you. You can hardly be blamed for believing them." Harry took several stuttering breaths, and slowly returned to normal. If Professor Snape was that scary when he was mad at other people, then Harry definitely did not want make the Professor angry at him. Still he had practically apologized for scaring Harry, and even said it wasn't his fault that he had said something stupid. Professor Snape was much nicer than Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, even if he was scary. Once he had collected himself Harry shot the professor a small smile, letting the man know he was feeling better. "Now that you are no longer in danger of hyperventilating, I would like to hear your decision."

"My decision sir?" Harry asked, having not the slightest clue as to what the man was referring to.

"You have just received a letter of acceptance from a school, did you not? Traditionally you then inform the school's representative, in this case myself, as to whether or not you intend to enroll in the school," Snape explained, with a tone that suggested Harry should know this already. Harry, however, was making full use of his will power not to start gaping at the professor again. Harry got to make the decision? He hardly ever got to decide on anything, and he never thought he'd get to make a big decision, like where he went to school. And here Professor Snape was, handing the choice over to Harry, like it was obvious that Harry should be allowed to express his preference.

Not that Harry really needed to choose. Of course he wanted to learn to do magic. Even if magic hadn't been one of the most amazing things ever, he would still want to learn. That way he could protect himself when he got picked on by the Dursleys-

Self-doubt attacked Harry, sending his train of thought careening in another direction. He couldn't possibly have magic, not really. He had spent his whole life being bullied by his aunt and uncle and clouted by his cousin; if Harry really had magic he would have stopped them. He could have turned them into toads, or maybe scared them with that fire thing Professor Snape did. Either way, it just wasn't possible that Harry had real magic. But how was he supposed to tell Professor Snape there had been a horrible mistake? Even if the man was nice, Harry doubted he would be pleased with having his time wasted. But if Harry just went along with it then the Professor would find out eventually, and would probably be even angrier.

"Mr. Potter," Snape's voice cut through Harry's worrying, "kindly stop chewing on your lip and explain to me what in the world the problem is this time."

"I think you must have made a mistake sir," he said quietly, eyes downcast. "I don't think I can be a wizard. I'm sorry sir." Harry peeked up through his fringe to see just how mad Professor Snape was, only to find him giving Harry the same look he had when Harry said magic wasn't real.

"Would I be correct in assuming that odd or inexplicable things have happened to or around you in the past?" Snape asked.

"Ye-es," Harry hedged, not quite sure where the Professor was going with this. Harry hadn't caused the odd things to happen, had he? Were they somehow proof Harry was a wizard?

"Describe the last such incident."

"Yes sir. The last time was on Dudley's birthday. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were taking him and Piers to the zoo, only Mrs. Figg broke her leg, so I got to go too. Then when we got to the reptile house Dudley wanted to watch the boa constrictor, but it was sleeping and Uncle Vernon couldn't wake it up. So Dudley walked off and I walked up to it and starting talking to it. He was telling me how he had never been to Brazil when-"

"Stop for a moment," Professor Snape interrupted, looking slightly green. "Am I to understand that you were actually conversing with the snake? Meaning it understood what you were saying and you understood its replies?"

"Yes sir, though he didn't say much except when he thanked me at the end but I haven't gotten to that part yet," Harry replied, wondering if maybe the professor was afraid of snakes. It would certainly explain why he looked nauseous.

"I see. Well, continue then." Harry shot the man an evaluative glance, just to make sure Professor Snape wasn't about to sick up or anything, before complying.

"Like I was saying, I was talking to the snake when Piers came up and saw the boa constrictor had woken up, so he called Dudley over. Dudley knocked me down when he punched me out of the way, and the two of them leaned up right close to the glass, and then all the sudden the glass was gone. Then the snake came out of the tank and when he slithered past he thanked me and said he was going to go to Brazil. And that's what happened sir."

"That is quite clearly a case of accidental magic on your part," Professor Snape explained, appearing to have recovered from earlier. "When your cousin punched you it doubtless made you angry at him, so your magic got revenge for you by by setting a rather large snake on him to scare him. It also freed your new... friend, who had been previously complaining about his captivity. It is not uncommon for someone who has not yet been taught to control their magic to have sudden outbursts, especially when they are upset or angry. Rest assured Mr. Potter, you are a wizard."

Now that Harry thought about it all the odd things that had ever happened were when he was upset or angry. And they had all helped him out, or gotten revenge for him. Maybe he really was a wizard after all.

Harry was positively beaming when he looked back up at Professor Snape. "Does that mean I can still go to Hogwarts, sir?"

"I take it that that is your decision, that you wish to attend Hogwarts?" Professor Snape asked, effectively answering Harry's question.

"Yes sir!"

"Very well. I need to go inform your guardians of your decision." Harry looked at the Professor in horror. He was going to wake the Dursley's up in the middle of the night to tell them Harry wanted to attend a school for magic? While Harry was pretty sure Professor Snape would make them let Harry go to Hogwarts, he had said it was Harry's choice after all, that didn't mean Harry wasn't going to get in big trouble, and it's not like teachers can interfere with how your guardians wanted to punish you. "Since you have already told me that you wish to go, you will not be required for this conversation," the Professor continued, and Harry felt a bit relieved. He would still probably get in trouble in the morning, but Uncle Vernon had a short attention span, the longer it wen t between when Harry had "misbehaved" and when he was punished for it the lighter the sentence tended to be. "Instead, Mr. Potter, you will be going to sleep now. I have no desire to drag around a sleep-deprived eleven year-old tomorrow."

"Tomorrow sir?" Did that mean the Professor was coming back? While Harry had meet some people who were nicer than the Professor, there hadn't been too many, especially once Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had convinced the neighbors and Harry's teachers that he was a delinquent.

"You will need to buy supplies before you come to school, and since I have no faith in the ability of your aunt and uncle to buy them for you, I shall be taking you myself tomorrow after you wake up in the morning," Professor Snape explained.

Harry was ecstatic. He was going to get to do something fun for his birthday after all. Yes it was just shopping for school supplies, but they were magic school supplies, which made up for it. It wouldn't be so bad having his birthday ignored after all, since he was going to go out anyways.

Suddenly Harry let out a huge yawn. "Bed, Mr. Potter." Professor Snape cast a glance around the room before asking, "Where are you supposed to be sleeping?" Harry pointed at the folded up blanket next to the couch, and the Professor wrinkled his nose at it. He then pulled out his wand again and said another spell, this time directed at the couch. But then it wasn't a couch, but a rather large and comfy looking bed. Harry looked in shock at both the new bed and at Dudley who had somehow managed to sleep straight through the whole transformation. Suddenly Harry felt a hand on his shoulder propelling him toward the bed, so he obediently climbed beneath the covers. He was half-asleep by the time his head hit the pillow, it was very late after all, and it had been a long day.

"Goodnight sir," Harry said as he drifted off.

"Goodnight," came the Professors reply. Then, after a moment, "And Potter?"

"Yes'sir?" Harry said, his words beginning to slur together.

"Happy Birthday."