"Harry!" Lily stood at the foot of the stairs. "Let's go!"

"Just a second!"

Lily raised her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. "Not ‘a second', now!"

A dark haired boy appeared at the top of the stairs. "I can't find my glasses."

"How is that possible?" James came out of the kitchen.

"Well, I can't see without them," Harry said, rolling his bare eyes.

"Exactly your father's point, dear," Lily said, heading upstairs. "I think we both think that it would be better if you didn't take them off."

"I told you, Alice takes them."

"Alice!" Lily called down the hall for her daughter. "Did you take Harry's glasses?"

"Why would I even do that?" Alice shouted back. "Maybe he's just stupid."

"Alice Potter, watch yourself," James scolded, pulling out his wand. "Accio, Harry's glasses."

Wire frames zipped out from under a pile of dirty laundry. James caught them neatly and handed them to his son. "Maybe if you picked up every once in a while..."

"Ron and I were pretending they were leaves," Harry shrugged, pushing his glasses onto his nose.

"Was that before or after you were looking at Muggle swimsuit magazine?" Alice asked, coming to the door looking pleased with herself. "Daddy, I want to come with you."

James put his arm around his daughter, ruffling her red hair. "Today is about Harry, kiddo. I promise, we'll do something special when you go to Hogwarts next year. Besides, Ginny is going to come over, and you'll have a great time with Sirius."

"It's always all about Harry," Alice groaned. "So what? He's eleven. Big deal. I'll be eleven in 368 days."

"And in 368 days, we'll go to Diagon Alley and get your school things," Lily assured her. "Now we need to go if we've going to meet the Weasleys. Where is Sirius?"

"Did someone say Padfoot?" Sirius asked, grinning into the room. "Hey, beautiful," he said to Alice, "you have a friend downstairs."

"Finally, someone else who knows Harry is annoying," Alice huffed and went downstairs to see Ginny.

"Hey, buddy," Sirius laughed, coming all the way into the room and pulling Harry into a one-armed hug. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," Harry grinned.

"So, what'd you get?" Sirius asked, grinning back.

"Nothing yet," Harry said, his green eyes sparkling.

"Nothing?" Sirius looked at James in mock-horror. "You didn't get your son anything for his birthday? What kind of father are you?" He threw himself on the bed, one hand over his face.

"Sirius!" Harry laughed, poking the prostrate man.

"I'm sorry, kid, I should have adopted you," Sirius said woefully. "When I was eleven, I got something awesome, I just can't remember... shoot, what was it? Socks?"

"A wand!" Harry laughed, hitting his godfather in the head with a pillow.

"Oh, that's right," Sirius sat up, grinning again. "A wand! But that's something you have to get him," he bounced up to his feet. "I have something else."

Like a child on Christmas morning, Sirius danced into the hall and reappeared, holding a large cage. "What you really need, you know, to be a real wizard, is an owl."

Harry's eyes widened as he looked at the snowy white owl preening in the cage. "For me?"

"For you," Sirius nodded, putting the cage on Harry's desk. "She needs a name and a perch, both of which I'm sure you can give her."

"You can think about a name while we're out," Lily said, as James conjured a perch for the bird. "You know you'll have to-

"Feed her and clean up after her. I know, mum." Harry rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Sirius, you're the best." He hugged the older wizard.

"You're welcome, Cleansweep," Sirius hugged him back. "Now you better go get your wand and... I don't know, you probably need some books or something."

"A whole list," Harry nodded enthusiastically.

"Thanks for watching the kids," James clapped Sirius on the back as they went downstairs.

"Anytime," Sirius said affably. "By the way, I invited Remus for dinner."

*H*P*

"Alright," James said, squinting at the parchment in his hand. "Cauldron, phials, telescope, scales... I guess that leaves robes."

"And a wand!" Harry exclaimed, as if there was a way his father would forget that item.

"Yes, a wand," James laughed, squinting at the paper again. "And books... I think."

"Honey, wear your glasses," Lily said, taking the list from him. "Books, clothes, then wand."

"Muuummm," Harry groaned. "Please, please, please?"

"Please get you new underwear?" Lily smirked. "Well, since you asked so nicely..."

"Dad, help!" Harry looked at his father, turning his puppy-dog eyes on full blast.

"Is there something you'd like to do first, Harry?" James grinned down at his son.

"Ugh," Harry rolled his eyes. "WAND!"

Lily laughed. "Alright, alright, wand. Then lunch. Then clothes and books."

"Then Quidditch store," James whispered in Harry's ear as they headed off toward Ollivander's.

"Not the Quidditch store," Lily shook her head. "You leave for school in one month, and you can't take your broom."

James groaned. "You are so mean."

"That's a shame for you," Lily laughed again as she pushed open the door to the wand shop.

"Ah," an old man stood behind the counter. "The Potters." He pointed one long finger at Lily. "Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow." The finger drifted to James. "Mahogany. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power."

Mr. Ollivander came around the counter and came toward Harry, his finger tracing the lightning scar on the younger wizard's forehead. "And that's where..."

James put his hand on Harry's shoulder, pulling him back. The Potters did everything they could to protect their children from the prying eyes of the public, especially Harry, but in public like this... there was always someone trying to get too close.

Ollivander stepped back. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

James cleared his throat. "Maybe we should let Harry try something of his own," he suggested.

Ollivander made a movement that was somewhere between a nod and a shake and pulled out a tape measure. "Well, now, Mr. Potter. Which is your wand arm?"

Harry held out his right arm.

"Alright, that's it," Ollivander nodded, measuring Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round his head. "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers-

"And the heartstrings of dragons," Harry finished excitedly.

"Correct," Ollivander nodded, leaving the tape measure to perform its work. He took down boxes from the shelves, seemingly at random.

Harry heard a click to his left and spun his head to see Lily grinning at him from behind the camera. "Mum!"

"Sorry, sweetheart," Lily said, not looking sorry at all.

"Dad, make her stop," Harry looked at James.

James held up his hands. "I don't step between your mother and her camera."

"Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one," Ollivander handed him a wand. "Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander took it away almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy-

The wand had barely touched Harry's fingers when Ollivander snatched it away.

James made an audible sigh of relief. Lily looked at him, and he shrugged. "Seven inches?" he whispered to his wife. "You know what they say... short wands-

"Shush," Lily ordered, smacking him in the arm.

James grinned sheepishly, but turned his attention back to his son.

"Tricky customer," Ollivander was saying. "But not to worry. We'll find the perfect match here somewhere..." He went back to the shelves. "I wonder... yes, why not... unusual combination... holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches. Nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls.

Harry didn't hear the camera click this time, he was startled so violently by the sparks.

"That's my boy," James crowed, catching Harry around his shoulders and squeezing the breath out of him. "That's Potter blood, there."

Lily snorted. "That is the product of 18 hours of labor." She put her arms around Harry and blinked back tears.

"Don't cry, Mum," Harry said, embarrassed.

"You're so big," Lily laughed, dashing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Come on, son," James said, handing Ollivander seven Galleons. "I'll buy you a celebratory hamburger."

"Molly said they'd meet us at Tivalties' Café," Lily said, tucking the camera in her robe. "And then it's uniform fittings for you."

"Blimey, Mum," Harry made a face. "Do you have to ruin the day with clothes?"

James chuckled. "I bet a Quidditch magazine would help the whole process."

Lily shook her head, but didn't say anything as they made their way to the café.

"Harry!" Ron Weasley waved enthusiastically from a table near the sidewalk. "Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks," Harry grinned, sitting beside his friend as Molly, Arthur, James, and Lily said their hellos. He held up his wand. "Brilliant, right?"

Ron smiled, holding up his own. "It's Charlie's... Well, I guess it was Charlie's last. Belonged to my Uncle Ignatius before that, I think. But anyway, it seems to work alright."

Harry tried to smile encouragingly, but he was a little uncomfortable. He knew the Weasleys didn't have a lot of money, but usually it didn't matter. The fact that Ron had a older broom that he had to share with Ginny, and a smaller room he had to share with Percy... those things had never been part of their friendship. But it was hard to be so happy over a brand new wand when Ron hadn't had the Ollivander experience.

"We're going for books next," Molly was telling Lily. "Luckily, most of them haven't changed since Fred and George were First Years."

"Binns hasn't changed his book since we were in school," Arthur laughed.

"Severus changed the Fifth Year Potions book," Molly sighed. "But not the First Year, so we only have to get one for Percy."

Harry watched a shadow pass over his mother's face. It was the same one that was always there when someone mentioned Severus Snape's name.

Mrs. Weasley must have seen the shadow as well. "I'm sorry, dear. Have you seen him recently?"

Lily grimaced. "We invited him for Christmas... like every year... but he didn't come."

"Lil, he's probably uncomfortable," James soothed. "It's not like he can eat dinner with us..."

"I know," Lily shook her head. "I just wish..." she shook her head again, as if she was trying to clear it. "I just wish he could be happy."

"If there's one thing I've never met," Arthur said sagely, "it's a happy ghost."

Harry carefully crossed off August 31st on the calendar that Lily had hung on his bedroom door.

"Tomorrow, huh?"

Harry turned to see James, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, smiling. Harry nodded, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

"Well then," James said soberly. "You're going to need this," he opened the hallway closet and pulled out a box. "Come on," he said conspiratorially. "Let's go in your room," he looked down the hall before ushering Harry into his bedroom.

Harry put the box on his bed and opened it. Reaching in, he removed the contents one at a time. First, there was a velvet bag of Sickles.

"For sweets on the train," James said.

Harry grinned, and set the bag on the bed before removing the next thing- a box of smoke bombs.

"For... distractions." James laughed. He pulled out a small mirror. "This," he said, handing it to Harry, "is a two-way mirror. I have the other one. If you need me, use it. No matter what time it is. Got it?"

Harry nodded, laying the mirror on the bed.

There were sweets and joke products and pictures of his family... and then at the very bottom of the box, there were two things Harry didn't recognize.

"Let me show you this one," James said, taking what appeared to be a scrap of parchment out of the box. He laid it out on the bed and drew his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," James intoned, tapping the parchment with the tip on his wand.

Harry watched as the parchment seemed to bleed black ink from the center, forming lines and boxes and dots.

James looked giddy. "I've been waiting for 11 years to show this to you." He pointed at the parchment. "This is the Marauder's Map. Remus, Sirius, and I made it when we were in school. It shows you the location of every single person in Hogwarts at any time. Keep an eye on the teachers," he said sagely.

"So cool," Harry said, examining it. "Who is Wormtail?"

"A useless member of our group," James said lightly. "Now, it's very important to wipe the map when you're finished." He tapped the parchment again. "Mischief managed."

"Wicked," Harry carefully folded the map.

"There's also ways out of the castle on that map," James said, adopting his best father look. "I expect you to use that feature responsibly, right?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I promise, Dad. Really."

"Good," James nodded. "And be careful with it. I had to have the Weasley twins steal it back from Filch, so don't let the old guy get it again."

"What's this?" Harry pulled out the last item in the box. It was a large, gauzy piece of fabric.

"That," James said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "has been in the family for a long time. Your Grandpa Potter gave it to me, and now I'm giving it to you." He took the fabric and threw it around his son's shoulders. "Look down."

Harry looked, and stepped back in surprise. His feet were gone!

"It's an invisibility cloak," James grinned. "They're very rare, so you've got to be careful. But even more important... you cannot tell your mother."

Harry spun around, marveling at how his feet popped in and out of view. "Wow," he said breathlessly. It was the only thing he could think to say.

"'Wow', indeed," James laughed. "Now, put all this stuff in the bottom of your trunk. Except the money. You can tell your mother about the money." He opened Harry's trunk and moved some of the clothes aside.

"Mum already gave me money," Harry confessed.

James shrugged. "Okay, then put that," he pointed to the Sickles, "in the trunk too. For emergencies. Or whatever."

"Thanks, Dad," Harry wrapped his arms around his father's waist.

"You're welcome, kiddo. I'm going to miss you around here." James ran one hand through his son's messy hair.

"I can visit... right?"

James looked down at him. "Any time you want. You say the word," he said seriously, any trace of teasing gone from his voice.

Harry nodded. "I don't suppose I could sneak my broom into that trunk..."

James shook his head sympathetically. "Sorry, kid. That rule comes from above my pay grade."

*H*P*

"Are you really Harry Potter?" A boy poked his head into the compartment Harry and Ron had settled in.

"Yeah," Harry said uncomfortably. He never quite knew what to say. Usually he let his parents handle the questions. It's not like he could remember that night anyway.

"So... do you really have the... you know...?"

Harry sighed and pulled his bangs back from his forehead to show the lightning scar.

"So that's where You-Know-Who-

"Yes," Ron snapped, stepping between the prying eyes of the boy and Harry. "Why don't you find a seat somewhere else?"

"Thanks," Harry muttered as Ron sat back down.

"Can't let you get that much attention," Ron joked. "Might make you all stuck up or something."

"I'm starving," Harry said, digging out his money. "Do you want something from the cart?"

"Mum packed sandwiches," Ron said sadly, holding up a package of slightly squished sandwiches. "Corned beef."

"You hate corned beef," Harry made a face. "I'm getting us pasties." He went out into the middle of the train to flag down the trolley.

When he returned, there was a girl in their car. She had frizzy hair, and had apparently been talking to Ron nonstop since she appeared.

"I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Harry looked at Ron, not sure he even remembered his name in after listening to Hermione's monologue.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," Harry said, wondering if it would be rude to pretend to go deaf suddenly.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books or background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" Harry felt dazed. He knew almost nothing about the night Voldemort was defeated. His parents told him that You-Know-Who tried to attack them, but Severus Snape had saved them. And that he'd gotten his scar because he was hit with a stray spell.

"Goodness, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione, rummaging in her bag and pulling out Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. "Here," she said, handing him the book. "I've got to go look for Neville's toad. You two better change."

She half bounced, half stalked out of the compartment. Harry looked at the book in his hand and shook his head, throwing it on the seat and reaching for his trunk.

"You aren't going to read it?"

Harry shrugged. "It's weird."

"Yeah, it's like last year when Charlie was in an article about using dragons in the military," Ron said. "It's weird seeing someone you know in print."

"Weirder seeing yourself, I'd imagine," Harry shrugged again. He pulled his uniform and robes out of the trunk.

*H*P*

After the feast, Harry laid the Marauder's Map out on his red comforter. There were decidedly more dots on the map now than there were before. There was quite a group crowded in the owlry, probably sending home the results of the sorting.

Harry wiped the map and tucked it into his trunk. He'd drawn the curtains around his bed, not wanting to share his amazing new toy with the rest of the Gryffindors, but he needn't have worried. Everyone else was downstairs in the common room, celebrating the beginning of term.

Harry started to close his trunk and join them, when he saw the book Hermione had given him on the train. What did it say about him?

HARRY JAMES POTTER (July 30, 1980-     )

Harry Potter, also known as "The Boy Who Lived" was born July 30, 1980 to James Henry Potter and Lily Marie (Evans) Potter. Potter was credited with defeating He Who Must Not Be Named October 31, 1981, as well as being the only known wizard to have survived the Killing Curse.

The Potter family went into hiding after multiple threats against their lives. It is unknown why the most notorious Dark wizard in history so desperately wanted the Potters dead.

On October 31, 1981, He Who Must Not Be Named entered the Potter residence. According to reports, he went straight to the youngest Potter's bedroom. When Lily Potter attempted to protect him, He Who Must Not Be Named attempted to kill her, only to be thwarted by Severus Snape (see page 846). Snape was killed in the ensuing struggle.

He Who Must Not Be Named then turned the Killing Curse on Harry Potter, however the spell rebounded, causing He Who Must Not Be Named's death and the characteristic lightning scar the Wizarding world has come to know.

Sirius Black was originally arrested for conspiracy to commit murder until it was revealed that the Potters had changed their Secret Keeper. Peter John Pettigrew, the man responsible for revealing the Potters' position to He Who Must Not Be Named, is still at large. To this day, the Auror Department has an open file pursuing his arrest.

Harry closed the book. Sirius was arrested? His parents had never mentioned that. They'd never mentioned Peter Pettigrew, either. And they definitely hadn't mentioned that the Killing Curse was meant for him.

Harry pulled the two-way mirror out of his trunk. "Dad," he said, into the glass.

"Hey, sport," James's face appeared in the mirror. "Is that Gryffindor Crimson I see behind you?"

Harry heard his mother cheering in the background.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Ron and me both."

"It's in your blood," James said, grinning.

"Hey, Dad?"

James looked harder at his son's face. "What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing, it's just... this girl gave me a book on the train-

"Already with the girls?" James grinned. "You really are a Potter, my boy."

"It's not like that," Harry felt his face flush. "She gave me this history book because... I'm in it."

James paused. "Did you read it?"

Harry nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

James sighed. "Why didn't we tell you what, Harry?"

"That he tried to kill me. That the whole world knows. That I'm the reason he's gone."

"Harry-bear," Lily pushed into the frame. "We just didn't think you needed to worry about it."

"Does Ron know?"

Lily frowned. "I think so. Why do you ask?"

"So maybe he's not really my friend," Harry said quietly. "Maybe he only hangs out with me because I'm famous."

"Not true," James said firmly. "We've done a lot to protect you from people who want to take advantage of you."

"I can't believe you let me come here," Harry said, his voice thicker. "Everyone knows me and I don't know anyone. I'm going to have to learn about myself in History class!"

James snorted. "Binns will never get past the Goblin Wars, so I wouldn't worry about it."

"James," Lily hissed. "Sweetheart, it's late. Why don't you go to bed. Things always look better in the morning. Your father and I will come tomorrow night and we can talk more, okay?"

Harry bit his lip. "I can't go to class tomorrow."

"Yes you can," Lily said gently. "Everyone else is going to be too nervous and excited to worry about you. Go to bed. We'll talk tomorrow."

Harry didn't believe her, but nodded anyway. "Goodnight, Mum. Dad."

"Goodnight, honey," Lily said. "We love you."

Harry put the mirror back in his trunk and lay down. There was no way he was going downstairs now.

"Harry!"

Harry felt himself being shaken awake the next morning. Opening his eyes, he saw Sirius, sitting on the bed. "Wake up," the older wizard said, his voice low. "Come walk with me."

Harry groaned, but allowed himself to be pulled up and out of the curtains of his bed. The rest of his dorm mates were still asleep, and a quick look at the clock said why. "Five o'clock?" he hissed at Sirius, who gave an apologetic shrug.

"I wanted to talk to you before breakfast. Here," he handed his godson his uniform and robes. "Hurry, before I get arrested for breaking in here."

Harry stopped buttoning his shirt and looked at him.

"Sorry," Sirius colored a bit. "Bad choice of words."

Harry finished pulling on his pants and shoes. He grabbed his robe and his tie, carrying them with him down the stairs, following Sirius.

When they were outside, Sirius started to walk down toward the lake. "This brings back memories," he said, grinning. "We dumped Remus in that water probably a dozen times a year."

"You and Peter?" Harry asked, his tone accusatory.

Sirius sighed. "Yeah. Your father and I. And Peter."

"You never told me about him."

"He's not important."

"He tried to kill me," Harry said. "Or at least have me killed. He seems pretty important." He crossed his arms. "And you never told me you were in prison."

Sirius frowned and sat on the grass, gesturing for Harry to come sit beside him. "It was no more than I deserved," he said quietly, looking at the lake. "It was my fault, even if I wasn't the one who went to You Know Who. I still betrayed you."

"The book says you weren't the real secret keeper."

"I was," Sirius clarified. "And then Peter and I thought that too many people knew it was me. We convinced your parents to change their minds and to make Peter the secret keeper. We thought no one would suspect him."

"But he was with You Know Who?"

"We're not sure," Sirius said carefully, "if he was at the time, or if that came later. But the effect was the same. I'm sorry, Snitch."

"He's still out there somewhere?"

Sirius shrugged. "We never found him. But he could be hiding." He plucked a blade of grass.

"Why did You Know Who want to kill me?"

Sirius shook his head. "I don't know. Your parents were very... vocal in their opposition of him. It's possible that he wanted to destroy what was most important to them." He put his arm around the messy-haired boy.

"People have always known me," Harry shrugged. "I thought it was just because I was there that night. No one ever told me that the whole world thinks I'm some kind of hero."

"We didn't want you to grow up with that pressure," Sirius said softly. "Your parents love you, kid. More than anything. They were trying to protect you. I want you to go easy on them when they come visit tonight, alright?"

Harry put his head on Black's shoulder. "I think I want to go home."

Sirius shook his head. "Everything is going to be fine," he soothed. "You may get some extra attention, but people will lose interest."

"I hope so," Harry muttered, doubting that it was true.

*H*P*

Harry had only caught a glimpse of Professor Snape at the start-of-term banquet. The look on the ghost's face gave Harry the feeling that the man did not like him.

The first Potions lesson, deep in the dungeons, proved otherwise. Snape loathed Harry Potter.

Snape floated in, ghostly robes billowing behind him with wind Harry couldn't feel. He started the class by calling roll, pausing at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity." His lip curled slightly.

Harry heard snickering from across the aisle where Draco Malfoy was sitting with his friends. He knew Draco... sort of. Sometimes the Potters ran into the Malfoys in Diagon Alley. Once they'd been invited to the same wedding. Every time Harry had ever seen Draco, the blond-haired boy had been a prat. Today appeared to be no exception.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape said smoothly. His voice was barely audible, the whole class leaning forward to catch every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering sumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death. If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

There was a long silence, then, suddenly, "Potter!" Snape said, his voice louder now. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry glanced at Ron, but the other boy didn't seem to have any more ideas than Harry. The Potters didn't even have a lab in their house. Occasionally, in an emergency, Lily would brew something in the kitchen, but they mostly relied on the Apothecary to supply their potions.

"I don't know, sir," Harry said softly.

Snape sneered. "Tut, tut- fame clearly isn't everything."

Hermione was waving her hand around, but Snape ignored her.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione was waving her hand so hard now, Harry thought she might take off. He could see Malfoy and crew shaking with laugher out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter? Your mother must be so proud."

Harry forced himself to look into the cold eyes of the ghost. He had looked through his books when he first brought them home, but his parents had assured him that the point of school was to learn. He didn't need to memorize everything before he started.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Harry didn't know ghosts could swell with rage.

"Sit down," Snape snapped at Hermione, who's waving hand seemed to have propelled her out of her seat. "A point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Things did not improve from there. And by the time Harry finished with classes for the day and sat through dinner with no less than five people asking to see his scar, he was beyond ready when Professor McGonagall stopped him on the way out of the Great Hall.

"Mr. Potter," she said briskly, "your parents are in my office."

"Thank you, ma'am," Harry said, making a beeline in that direction, not wanting the rest of the students to know that he had visitors on the second night of school. He wasn't a baby, after all.

Of course, it would be hard to convince his mother of that, judging from the force with which she crushed him in a hug when he came through the door. "Harry-bear," she said, kissing the top of his head. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "Whatever."

James chuckled, running one hand though his son's hair. "Well put." He sat on the sofa in the office and patted the seat beside him. "Let's talk."

Harry sat on the sofa between his parents, staring at his shoes. "Everyone knows me. You didn't tell me that everyone would know me. And you never told me that Professor Snapes hates me. And I don't know anything about anything, and everyone thinks I'm stupid. And-

"Harry," Lily rubbed his back. "No one thinks you're stupid, sweetheart. And we're sorry we didn't tell you the whole story... but you are so young, and it just didn't seem like something you needed to know."

"Well I did," Harry said stubbornly.

"What's this about Snape?" James looked down at the younger wizard.

"He hates me. He asked me all these questions I didn't know, and he took points, and he called me ‘our new celebrity'." Harry looked back at his shoes.

"Too bad you can't punch a ghost in the face," James muttered.

"James," Lily shook her head. "Honey, Severus is just... gruff. He doesn't hate you, I promise."

"He probably does," Harry said despondently. "I'm the reason he's dead."

His parents were quiet for a moment.

"You're not," James said finally. "Snape wasn't trying to protect you that night, Harry. He was protecting your mother."

"Oh." Harry looked at Lily, who shook her head and hugged him again.

"Listen, buddy," James said gently. "It's going to get better. People are going to get past it, and Snape... he doesn't hate you. He hates me. Maybe we should dye your hair blond."

Harry snorted and shook his head. "You're cracked."

*H*P*

Lily Potter knocked on Snape's office door.

"Enter," the Potion Master's voice came through the portrait.

Lily stepped through, closing the door firmly behind her. "Severus Snape, have you lost what little is left of your senses?"

"Lily," Severus said, putting the quill in his hand on the desk. It was strange, really, what his ghostly body allowed him to do. It appeared that things that were central to his life remained in tact. He could manipulate potions ingredients and quills. But yet he could walk through walls.

"I know you hate James, but Harry is my son, Severus."

"Ah," Severus smirked. "Poor Mr. Potter ran to Mummy because his teacher didn't worship at his feet?"

"No," Lily snapped. "We came because he doesn't understand why everyone knows him."

"He didn't appear too bright in class today," Severus said, raising an eyebrow.

"Severus!" Lily glared at him.

"Merlin's teeth, Lily," Severus glared back at her. "Have you been living with him under a rock?"

"We were protecting him."

"From the truth? How was he supposed to handle today?" Severus would have gritted his teeth if they still had that capability.

Lily pressed her lips together. "It's not fair for you to hold a childhood grudge against my son, Severus."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "No, Mrs. Potter, it's not fair for you to reject me and then expect my help in issues that concern the family you chose. That's not fair."

Lily's lips were a bright-white line now. "You've always been impossible," she snapped, and turned on her heel, slamming the portrait behind her.

Severus shook his head and drifted through the wall into his little apartment. "No," he muttered to himself, "It's impossible to look at your eyes every damn day."

He'd lost the need to sleep, of course, but, out of habit, he still spent his nights in his bedroom. Settling on...well, kind of above, the bed, he picked up the book he'd been reading.

But Beyond Polyjuice: Lesser Known Uses for Boomslang Skin didn't hold his interest like it had the night before. After twenty minutes of reading the same passage over and over, he put down the book and went to the bookshelf, looking for something else.

Selecting a blue cloth-bound binder, he brought it back to the bed and started flipping through the pages.

Lily, about 12, laughing hysterically as the Snape family owl pecked at her head.

Lily, 11, with her Hogwarts letter.

Lily, taken from far away, celebrating her graduation from Hogwarts.

Lily and baby Harry. There was an inscription under that photograph. Severus, meet Harry! See you soon, Lily.

Severus sighed. He had seen her soon. At Order meetings. Making plans to hide the little family he wasn't a part of.

Sometimes, when Lily came without James, with just baby Harry, Severus played a game with himself. He stood too close to her. He held the baby. They spoke like nothing had happened between them.

But in the end, she always went back to another man with that man's child in her arms.

Severus looked out over his classroom, frowning slightly. The Slytherin side of the room was quiet, their fear of him enough to make sure that his was at least one class in which they behaved themselves. The Gryffindor side might have been verbally quiet, but there were generally more papers being shuffled, books being dropped, and stools screeching across the dungeon floor.

"Just. Sit. Still." Severus hissed at Neville Longbottom, who was jiggling his leg so violently that the murky green liquid in his cauldron rippled. Two rows behind the earthquake-causer sat Lily's eyes. Severus made it a point to look at every child... except for the owner of the green orbs.

The problem was that the hatred he'd felt during the last class had... lessened. It was difficult to look at the boy and see James Potter's arrogance after learning that the child had very little idea of his... celebrity... before coming to Hogwarts.

It was, of course, important to maintain his dislike of the boy. The snot-nosed child had taken his cover as a spy and his life. Not that his life had been going all that well, Snape thought to himself. But that was entirely beside the point. That Halloween night, Severus had stepped in front of the killing curse to protect the only semblance of family he'd ever hoped to have. And the rest of his world came crashing down.

After the initial shock of death, the afterlife had been anticlimactic. Teaching as a ghost was hardly different than teaching with a body. Being head of Slytherin House was actually the most challenging, mostly due to backlash from parents who believed that Severus was the reason their Lord fell that night.

Just part of it, Severus thought to himself. The other part sat in the third row.

Upon closer inspection, the boy actually looked like he might be trying. Maybe. His James-Potter-like features obscured any intelligent thought, of course, but the potion he was brewing at least looked on target. The simmering liquid was a pale blue, a far cry from Longbottom's calamitous green.

Snape's ire was mostly focused on Lily at the moment. How dare she allow her progeny to walk into the lion's den uninformed? He'd been sorted into a house that worshipped their heroes. They loved reckless crusades so much that dying that night at the Potters' had almost caused them to forgive Severus for the Dark Mark on his arm. The one that persisted, even after death. A grey, ghostly reminder of the trauma he'd endured.

"Bottle one ounce of your results," Snape directed the class. "Label your vial and place it on the desk. Clean your station, and then you are dismissed."

The Potions Master watched Harry come forward and place his sample on the desk. Snape picked it up in his long, ghostly fingers. "Mr. Potter. You will stay after."

Harry's eyes widened, but he went back to his table, scrubbing the crushed beetles off the desktop. Everyone else filed out of the room. Ron gave him a sympathetic look as he shouldered his bag and followed the rest of the Gryffindors out of the room.

When the room was empty, Severus perched himself, hovering above the edge of his desk. "Mr. Potter."

Harry wasn't sure what to say, but the older man's tone made him feel like he needed to respond somehow. "Yes, sir."

Severus regarded the child for a long moment. "It has come to my attention that you were... less than prepared for your time here."

Harry shifted awkwardly. "I read my books, sir, I swear. It's just that-

Severus held up a hand. "I wasn't referencing your lack of academic preparation, Mr. Potter." He frowned. "Although that was less than impressive. I was talking about the fact that most of the students here know more about you and you do."

Harry flushed, looking at the floor. "It's not really a big deal."

"I couldn't agree more," Severus said. "However, the rest of the world is full of fame-seeking prattlers. So," he was suddenly struck with an uneasy feeling. What he was about to do did not come naturally. "Knowing your parents, I would imagine that you received the rose-colored glasses version of that evening. So I am offering you one chance, right now, to ask any questions you would like. And then we'll never speak of it again."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Sir, I... I just..."

"As articulate as that was," Severus drawled, rolling his eyes, "it was not a question. Perhaps I should have provided you with more preparation time. Not that it helped the first day of classes."

Harry fought back the urge to yell something childish at the other wizard.

"My office, directly after dinner," Severus said suddenly. "Perhaps that will give you time to determine exactly what you wish to ask me." He pointed to the door. "Dismissed, Mr. Potter."

Harry found himself unceremoniously alone as the ghost stalked through the door to his office.

*H*P*

"Do you want me to... I dunno... wait outside in case he kills you?" Ron said nervously, when they reached Snape's office door.

Harry shrugged. "He didn't seem homicidal." He knocked on the portrait. A moment later, it swung open to reveal Snape.

"I don't believe I invited you, Mr. Weasley."

Ron backed up. "No, sir. I was... just leaving." The redhead turned and scurried away down the corridor.

"So much for Gryffindor courage," Severus sneered, stepping back from the opening. "Well? Hurry up. I don't have all night, you know."

Harry stepped inside, narrowly missing the door as it swung shut behind him. Severus floated over to his desk, standing in front of it and crossing his arms. "Sit," he ordered, nodding to one of the chairs.

Obeying, Harry sat, not at all sure how to start.

"Out with it," Severus said, thinking about how this was the time he usually liked to lean against the edge of his desk. Making a note to take his researching into providing a more corporal presence for ghosts more seriously, he raised an expectant eyebrow.

"Well," Harry squirmed a bit in his chair. "I guess... I'm not really sure I know enough to even ask a question."

Severus processed that for a moment. "That may be the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say," he said finally. "And certainly more intelligent than anything your father has ever said."

"Why do you hate him?" Harry looked at his professor.

"I thought you didn't have any questions," Severus grumbled.

"It's just that you mention him a lot. And my mum. Mum says she invites you for Christmas every year, but you never come. How do you know them, anyway?" Once the words started tumbling out of his mouth, Harry seemed unable to stop.

Severus cursed the idea that had led them to this situation. He'd never invited a child to speak so frankly to him before, and he never planned on doing so again.

"Your mother and I grew up on the same street," Severus said, looking at a place over the boy's head. "And your father was at Hogwarts during the same time we were."

"So why do you hate him?" Harry pressed, emboldened by the fact he hadn't yet been killed.

"James Potter was not a pleasant young man," Severus said carefully. "I'm assuming that age has changed that. Or perhaps a lobotomy."

"What's a lobotomy?"

Severus shook his head. "Never mind. Your father and I did not get along, that's all." He was aware of his hypocrisy in this, demanding that Lily give her son all the information, yet withholding on just how bad James Potter had been as a teenager. But what good would it do to shake the child's vision of James? Severus knew what it was not to respect his father. It was isolating and unstable, and he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. Or on the son of his worst enemy, in this case.

"Were you at our house that night?" Harry asked, snapping Snape out of his thoughts.

Severus snorted. "I died there, Mr. Potter. I must have been there." Dunderheaded-

"I meant were you already there," Harry clarified. "You know, before... You-Know-Who came."

"Ah," Severus frowned a bit. "That is a different question, isn't it? No. I was not there already."

"So how did you know... That he was coming?"

Severus paused. He knew when he started this that they would eventually get to that question. Yet he'd successfully managed not to prepare for it.

"I was, at the time, a member of the Death Eater ranks. As a spy," he added quickly.

Harry seemed to process this quietly. Severus wondered vaguely where the boy got that from. James and Lily had never been quiet in their lives. Lily was as explosive as her hair, and James was always ready to run headlong into something insane.

"Why didn't you stop him before he got to the house?"

Full disclosure slipped further from Severus's plans. He would not tell Lily's eyes that the reason he'd waited until the Dark Lord was in the house because he'd hoped that James Potter would be the first casualty. He could hardly live with that knowledge himself.

That, really, was the reason that he'd never accepted Lily's invitations. He'd desperately wanted to see her, and believed that he could have lived with just being her friend... if he hadn't conspired to murder her husband.

They say that wizards that fear death become ghosts. Severus had never feared death. Until, at least, that night. Seeing that child in his crib made him feel like there was a special circle of Hell waiting for him. A little engraved nameplate- "Severus Tobias Snape- Murderer of the Father of an Innocent Child".

"I had to wait until the last minute," Severus improvised. "I didn't want to give away my position until the last possible minute." He paused. "I had no idea that you didn't really need me to protect you."

"The book didn't know why," Harry said. "It just said the spell rebounded."

"What book?" Severus raised an eyebrow.

"The history book Hermione gave me."

"The frizzy haired know-it-all?"

Harry glared. "That's not nice."

Severus snorted. "I'm not nice, if you haven't noticed," he said. "No one knows why the spell rebounded. You are the only person ever to survive the killing curse. I imagine, if people knew why, there would be a rash of people ready to buy whatever would make them immune." He crossed his arms. "Any more questions?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess not."

"Well, then," Severus said awkwardly. "No more books about this, understand? You have a question, you come to me."

"I thought we weren't ever going to talk about it again."

Severus's expression darkened. "Are you questioning my orders, young man?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir."

"Good," Severus said, opening the portrait. "Now get out, or you'll miss curfew. And I won't be writing notes so that you can hang out in the corridors with your little friends."

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded, grabbing his bag and heading out into the hall. "Goodnight, Professor."

Snape closed the door behind the boy with a loud click. And only then, did Harry hear a soft, "Goodnight, Mr. Potter."

"Hold your hand over your broom and say ‘up' in an authoritative tone," Madam Hooch instructed.

Harry grinned at Ron and put out his hand. "Up!"

The broom sprang into his hand, of course. He'd never had any problem. James and Sirius had taught him to ride a broom almost before he could walk.

Neville, it seemed, was not having similar success. Lily and James had been friends with Neville's parents before Harry was born. Harry had always assumed that they were dead, since Neville lived with him grandmother, but the other boy had mentioned going to visit them once. Harry had wanted to ask questions, but Neville's face told him that he wasn't at all interested in the subject.

During those play dates, Neville had never been very coordinated. James once joked that he ought to put the magical padding on the back garden that he'd used when Harry was a toddler.

It appeared that Neville had not gained coordination with time. The broom came into his hand well enough, but when Madam Hooch had them all rise into the air, Neville's broom took off, flying at top speed in an erratic pattern.

"Everyone, land!" Madam Hooch ordered, jumping onto her own broom and chasing after the out-of-control Gryffindor. The rest of the class watched as Neville's broom bucked, throwing the boy off and into the air. Madam Hooch raised her wand to try and slow his descent, but he still hit the ground with a sickening crack.

Madam Hooch landed, kneeling beside the boy. "A broken wrist," she pronounced, after inspecting Neville. "To the hospital wing with you, my boy." She helped Neville to his feet, and turned to the others. "No one is to lift one toe off the ground until I return."

As the witch strode off the yard, one arm around Neville, Harry looked around. Draco and his friends were picking up their feet, making mock-horrified faces and whispering, "Oh, no, I'm lifting my toes off the ground!"

Harry looked at Hermione, who, unlike every other lesson they'd had, looked worse for the wear after this one. Her broom hadn't hopped into her hand very easily, and Neville's accident seemed to have shaken her confidence even more.

"Hey, look," Malfoy's voice caught Harry's attention again. "Longbottom left his toy!" The blond held up a ball with pale smoke floating around inside. "Why don't we put it somewhere safe for him?"

Malfoy, much to the admiration of his adoring fan-base, jumped onto his broom and took off, carrying the ball in one hand.

"Come on, Malfoy, give it back," Harry shouted, but the Slytherin was already circling high above them.

"Just leave it alone," Ron muttered, but Harry grabbed his broom and mounted.

"Harry!" Hermione screeched, her hands on her hips. "Madam Hooch said-

It was useless for her to finish her sentence, because Harry was already in the air, rocketing toward Malfoy.

"Give it back," he demanded, as the blond haired boy hovered, just out of reach.

"You want it, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "Go get it."

Draco hurled the ball toward the castle. Harry dove after it, snatching it out of the air before landing lightly on the ground. He looked at Hermione, who looked horrified, and grinned. "It's not that hard, really."

"Harry James Potter!"

Harry spun around, surprised to hear his full name so far away from his mother. Professors Snape and McGonagall were striding across the lawn, the former having been the one bellowing.

"What do you think you're doing?" Snape grabbed him by the scruff of his robes. "Where is Madam Hooch?"

"She took Neville to the hospital wing, sir," Hermione answered nervously, obviously hoping that if she provided information, she'd be spared the expulsion she knew was coming.

"Land, Mr. Malfoy!" Snape ordered the blonde boy, unnecessarily because Draco had started his descent immediately upon seeing his Head of House. Severus pointed to the castle. "Your dormitory. Immediately. The rest of you," he looked at the other students, "class is dismissed."

Harry tried to follow, but Snape didn't release his grasp. Harry felt stupid, struggling against a ghost. How could he walk through his man's body, but he could be held by the ghost's oddly iron grip?

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall's eyes were shining. "You've got your father's Quidditch skills!"

"And his brains," Severus snapped, marching the younger wizard toward the castle.

"Now, Severus, he's my responsibility," McGonagall said, hurrying after them. "I'll handle it from here."

Snape glared at her. "I think it's clear how you would like to ‘handle' this situation, Minerva.  I'll deal with Potter."

"I'm calling his parents," Minerva said, almost gleefully, bustling off toward her office.

"An excellent idea," Severus glared down at Harry as they went down to the Potions office. "I am not amused by your antics, Mr. Potter, and I am certainly not impressed with your ability to grab a ball out of the air. I am, however, greatly annoyed by your disregard for basic rules provided for your safety."

"I know how to fly, sir," Harry said nervously, as Severus ushered him into the office.

"That's hardly the point," Severus glared, pointing at one of the chairs in front of his desk. "I'm certain your parents don't allow you to fly unsupervised. Am I incorrect?"

"No, sir." Harry shifted nervously.

"I can guarantee that Professor McGonagall is speaking with your parents right now, hoping to bend the First Year Quidditch rule for you. What do you imagine will be your parents' reaction?"

Harry looked at his feet. He knew perfectly well what his mother would say. Rules exist for your safety, Harry James, he heard her voice in his head. "My mum is going to be upset..."

"I don't doubt it." Severus regarded the boy for a moment. "I promised your mother long ago to keep you safe," he said quietly. "So far, you are not making my job easy."

Harry looked up at him suddenly. "You don't like me, sir."

Severus frowned, but was interrupted from any response by a knock on his office door. Minerva entered, Lily and James Potter in tow.

"Mum! Dad!" Harry looked up, horrified. He knew his mother would be upset with him, but he never thought she'd come to school.

"Professor McGonagall says you've been in some trouble," James said, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized, looking at his shoes. "I just wanted to get back Neville's ball."

"On a field full of children who might not have the experience on a broom that you do," Lily said, crossing her arms. "Do you know what could have happened if they had followed your lead?"

Harry dug the toe of his sneaker into the floor. "People could have gotten hurt," he mumbled.

"Precisely," Severus looked at Minerva. "I'm glad someone can see the danger of this little stunt."

"I'm sure Harry understands what he did was wrong," Minerva said hurriedly. "But I always say we should focus on the positive side of every event. It seems that your son is a gifted Seeker."

"Which hardly matters, because he's a First Year," Severus glowered.

"A parent can give permission," Minerva shot back. "I'm sure that Harry would gladly submit to any punishment Professor Snape saw fit, but we don't need to throw this whole experience away, do we?"

Lily and James looked at each other. "We'll sign the consent," Lily said finally. "But there needs to be some consequences for disobeying Madam Hooch, young man."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry tried to push down his excitement, but he was sure that he didn't sound as chastened as his mother would like.

"Alright, then," Minerva wasn't even trying to contain her excitement. "I'll leave Mr. Potter's punishment up to Professor Snape."

"Gladly," Severus said, crossing his arms. "I'm banning him from the Quidditch team."

"Severus!" Minerva glared at him. "Be reasonable!"

"There is a reason we keep First Years off the team," Snape said firmly. "It's a foolish, dangerous sport. I can't believe you'd consider letting him play." He directed the last comment at Lily.

"Harry, go back to your dorm," James said quietly. If there was going to be an argument, he didn't want his son looking on as a witness.

"Dad-

"I'll walk you," James said, opening the portrait. He shared a look with Lily before taking his son's shoulder and propelled him out into the corridor.

"Do you think I'll get to play?" Harry asked, when they'd reached the stairs.

James frowned. "I'm not sure that you should."

"Dad!" Harry looked at James like he'd lost his mind. "You and Mum said-

"We said we'd sign the consent," James said. "But I'll be honest with you, Harry... it is dangerous. Do you know how many bones I broke?"

"You let me fly all the time at home," Harry tried to keep the whine out of his voice, knowing that it would get him nowhere.

"With the safety wards I've cast on the ground and everything else," James said, putting his arm around the younger wizard.

"You don't have to be scared, Dad," Harry rolled his eyes.

"I've been scared since the day you were born, Snitch," James pulled Harry tight to his side. "And you know that I'm all for mischief... but next time, remember that the point of fun is that it can't kill you or others. Got it?"

Harry nodded, feeling a little guilty. James had always made the rules about pranking very clear. Pranks were fun. They were not supposed to hurt people. Before you did something, you had to think of the unintended consequences.

"Hurting someone else, even if you don't mean to, is a bad prank," James told him over and over. "Just because you and your friends think something is funny doesn't mean it will amuse everyone. People can get hurt."

Harry was never sure exactly what his father was talking about. All the pranks the three Marauders told him about seemed hilarious. But James always looked a little disconnected during those conversations, like he was remembering something that Harry didn't know.

Anyway, the whole train of thought was useless, Harry thought to himself. What had happened that day wasn't a prank. He'd been trying to get Neville's ball. Although, if he was honest with himself, a lot of it was because Draco had always bugged him. Even with his limited contact with the blond boy, Harry knew that he didn't like Malfoy. Today hadn't done anything to change that fact.

*H*P*

"He's my son, Severus," Lily frowned. "He made a mistake today. But I think being on the team might help him make friends."

"I'm sure the golden boy will have plenty of friends," Severus rolled his eyes.

"Actually, Severus," Minerva put in, "the other students seem... a bit intimidated by his legacy."

"That's his life," Severus said, unsympathetically. "He might as well get used to it."

"He's a child, Severus," Lily said softly. "We're trying to give him a childhood." She looked at her estranged friend for a long moment, her green eyes locked on his dark ones, the transparency of his body washing out the black of his irises.

There was a long, awkward silence until finally Severus shook his head and looked away. "Fine. But don't come crying to me when he breaks every bone his body."