"DAD!" a distant voice calls, shattering my nightmare in seconds.

Panting, I sit straight up in bed, trying to shake the imagined pain from my mind. Why did I hear my son's voice? It had been so clear. Had it been in my dream, or had it been real? I look at the clock. It's four in the morning.

"DAD!"

The word has the distorted quality that a child's has when they're crying out while still half asleep. This time I know it is for real, and it worries me, for Harry has not called my name in the night like this in years. He is eleven now, after all.

Heart pounding just as it had been in my nightmare, I leap out of bed. My bad left knee groans in protest, as it always does, hurting even more than usual after lying still for some time. As fast as I can go I stumble across the hall to my son's room, my wand in hand. I open his bedroom door and flick on the light. I am relieved to see that he's safe in his bed. I think he's simply had a nightmare.

"Harry, what's wrong?" I ask, sitting at the foot of his bed.

He throws himself on me, and wraps his thin arms tightly around my chest, surprising me with his suddenness.

"Shh, it was just a dream," I say as he silently shakes, his hot tears dripping onto my shoulder. For a second I see the flash of a broken down old warehouse, a memory from long ago - unrelated to the moment and yet vivid. My heart quakes, but then I blink. "Just a dream, son."

I hold him tightly, and I start to rock him very slightly, like I used to when he was a baby. For once he does not protest, and after a moment I start to wonder who is comforting who.

"I had the old dream again," he whispers in my ear. "About mum. When he came. But then it kept going."

"Tell me the rest," I say quietly to him, because it has been many, many years since he has broken down like this after dreaming of the night he got his scar. I have often wondered if the memory is real, or if it is just him imagining the night, for he was terribly young. I hope he has imagined it, because I hate to think that he remembers it for real.

"It was worse than usual, because then Grandma came, and there w-was the green light and she d-died. And you came, and you were almost at me when he got y-you too! I needed to k-know you were o-o-okay."

"I am alright, and so is Grandma," I tell him quietly, fatigue hitting me like a freight train. I wonder briefly why now, of all nights he would be so upset. And then I understand. "Harry, do you think you're having nightmares again because you are worried about tomorrow?"

Harry doesn't speak, but buries his face further into my sweaty pyjama shirt.

"I will still be there," I assure him, knowing that he really must be worried if he's acting half his age. "Even if you're in your dormitory, I will be where I always have been. You can come see me in the evenings. The only difference is that instead of sleeping in your room in the dungeons, you will have a dormitory. It will be like a big sleepover. Besides, you already know your way around Hogwarts. You know it better than some of the staff, I'd wager."

"I know but ... but I'm scared something's going to happen to you."

Ah, here we go. This is the heart of the issue. I had guessed as much. This is not surprising in the least to me. Anybody who dreams of their mother's murder would be afraid of the same things. Harry's always been afraid of losing me, and nights like tonight I am very glad he does not know how close he came to it when he was just a baby. It's for the best he doesn't know, for it would only make his fears worse. My heart aches at this, guilt rising up within me like acid, burning me from the inside.

"I can protect myself, so you need not worry," I tell him, gently extracting him from me so that I can look him in the eye. He sits on the bed, looking so small to me. Too small and young to be eleven already. How could the years have slipped by like this?

"Harry, I have been through a great deal of sticky situations," I tell him. "I have made it through them all alive. You do not have to fear that something is going to happen to me. If you do not think I am tough enough to withstand that, ask your Grandmother."

"Oh, he's tough enough," comes a voice from the doorway. I hear a chuckle as I look around. Sure enough, there's my mother, standing in the doorway with her dressing gown on, her long black hair braided behind her, a streak of grey running the length of it. "He's related to me."

Harry snickers.

"Go back to bed, Mum," I say, rolling my eyes. "Harry's fine."

Sometimes it irks me that I return to Spinner's end for the summer. I remind myself this is for Harry, because my mother is the only woman in his life that is close to a mother. Of course, this arrangement I have to admit benefits all three of us. I know very well my mother could use the help during the summer, as with my father having been dead for quite a few years, it's up to me to help her fix the dilapidated house (she never has been all that good at household spells) and lend a hand in paying the bills, seeing as when the mill went bankrupt, they stopped paying out my father's pension, and the benefits from my father's years spent fighting in the Korean war only go so far. This left us to pool our resources to keep the house, a place neither of us was ready to let go of at the time. That, and as I have said, Harry needs someone like a mother in his life. I hate to admit it to myself as well, but I needed the support even more than Harry did for a number of years.

"Since when are you telling me to go to bed, Severus?" she says with a wink.

Mum concedes though, and leaves me to talk to Harry. I wait until I hear her bedroom door shut to speak again.

"Grandma is right, you know," I mutter to Harry. "She is pretty tough herself. Taught me half the jinxes I know. But don't tell her I said that."

"I know," Harry mutters, rubbing his eyes slightly. "I'm just ... worried, I guess."

"Well, just think of all the fun you will have showing all your new friends around the castle," I say. "During the day, of course. I will tan your hide if you break curfew, young man."

Harry bites back a laugh, even though he knows very well I am not joking.

"Well, you have a big day tomorrow, so it is time to go back to sleep," I say, knowing full well he will do exactly what I just told him not to, because I was the same way. I merely hope that he doesn't follow any werewolves out at night.

I get off the bed stiffly, and lift the covers for Harry. As he slides under them, he looks at me curiously.

"Dad?" he asks hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Were you having nightmares too?"

"What gives you that impression?" I ask quietly, not betraying the panic I feel.

"Well," Harry says, looking thoughtful, "you're all sweaty, and kinda clammy too."

"I cannot fool you anymore, can I?" I say to him, trying to smile, but I know I probably just look pained. "Yes, you did wake me from a nightmare."

I smooth his covers slightly, and Harry asks me what my nightmares are about.

How can I tell him? I've asked myself that question a million times it seems, but every time I do I still cannot come up with the words to say what I was forced to go through, and this time is no different.

So I lie. Or I only tell him half of a lie, and half of the truth.

"I also was dreaming about losing your mother," I say, because that is the only nightmare I have again and again that I can explain to him fully. In all actuality I dream more of what happened before it all. Perhaps the reason why I dream so little of the day I lost Lily is that every day has been part nightmare since she was taken from me. I doubt that feeling will ever leave completely, but I have Harry, and he is worth more to me than anything in this world.

I surprise Harry by hugging him. While he did not see it coming, he clings to me tightly anyway.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he whispers in my ear. "Do you tell Grandma about your bad dreams?"

"No," I say, feeling a tiny bit of sadness at the innocence of his question. Harry pulls away from me, and I let him go, even though I want to hold him all night, like I used to years ago, back when he was a baby. "Some things I cannot tell her, because they hurt her more than me."

"So you don't have anyone to go to when you have a nightmare?" Harry asks, a little bit astounded.

"No," I say, continuing the rest of the sentence in my head. But I used to rock you when I couldn't sleep, back before you grew so big.

"Oh."

"Think you can go back to sleep?" I ask him, and he just smiles at me, and I know he will be able to.

I ruffle his hair a little and go to the light switch, flicking it off. I leave his door open a crack, and then I go downstairs, leaving him to slip into more pleasant dreams.

I will not sleep. I know I will not, and so I sit and wait for the morning paper. All the while I stare at the gap between picture frames on the wall, filling in the space where a young man in uniform once hung, before a little baby grew old enough to understand what shining buttons and medals meant.

***

Early in the morning, way before Harry is up, Mum comes downstairs, her hair up and her clothes dusty.

"Severus, I'm working on cleaning out the attic, and there are a few things I think you should take with you," she says to me.

"What are you cleaning for?" I ask, bewildered. The attic hasn't been cleaned at Spinner's end since we moved in during the sixties. It was a damn good thing we hadn't, seeing as it meant that Lily and I didn't have to spend much on baby things when Harry came along.

"I am thinking of moving," she says to me with a sigh.

"Well, the wallpaper here is ugly as sin," I mutter, taking a sip of coffee.

Mum just rolls her eyes and continues as though she has not heard, knowing I am only making the joke because I am trying not to think about losing this place. It is our last connection to Dad. His memory seems to be as real a part of this home as Mum and I.

"I'm afraid it's just getting too big for me during the year," she says heavily. "It's been almost six years since Toby died, and keeping this place in one piece isn't as easy as it once was. I want to move to the countryside, somewhere with cleaner air. Maybe a wizarding village, even."

"I doubt this place will fetch much," I say, frowning, not sure of what to think of her moving.

"I know," Mum says, "but I've been saving for a long time. My potion business is finally doing well again."

"Seems like the world's finally forgotten their favourite Death Eater," I say bitterly. "About time they actually trust our name." I sigh. "I'm sorry, about all of that," I add for what feels like the thousandth time. I wish she could have sold under a different name, but most of her potions were her own invention and she had been selling them under her name for long enough that they were easily recognized as hers. The price for being talented.

"Severus, I don't blame you," she says. "You played your part well."

"So well they didn't know it was an act all along," I cannot resist muttering under my breath, "Even with Dumbledore's word."

"All is well now," Mum says to me. "My potions business can sustain me once more. The world is a different place than it was when your father passed on. Besides, it's been a good decade since the trial. People have simply moved on."

She looks to me gratefully, and I don't think she understands that she has helped me more than I have ever helped her. Even though I had chipped in a little to keep the house, I still feel greatly in her debt. She has helped me so much with Harry, and not only that, but she has always been there for me. I do not know how to put it into words, and so I change the direction of the conversation.

"So, you want me to take some of my old things to Hogwarts?" I ask.

"If you don't mind," she says apologetically. "There won't be much room compared to here. But wherever I go should have a bit of space for you to come back over the summer, if you would like"

"If you move, I will go elsewhere" I say, "unless you need the help. But in a house that actually tries not to fall down, probably not, I think."

"You've been thinking of this for a while, haven't you?" she asks, seeing immediately that I'm not just being spontaneous.

I frown slightly. "Well, Harry's getting a little older," I say, "and no doubt he'll want to have friends over, and that will probably drive me loony, let alone you. I was thinking of finding somewhere in Hogsmeade, actually, now that my salary's finally gone up so it won't be difficult to afford a place year round in a good neighbourhood. About bloody time, really. Pay's been abysmal since I started." That and things are going better for me, in a lot of ways, but I don't say that because Mum can probably tell.

"That sounds wonderful," my mother says, trying to sound excited. I can see that she is a little disappointed beneath it all, but she tries to be happy for me, which I really appreciate.

"I'll still visit," I say, trying to make her feel better. "Harry will most definitely drag me here. You have been so good for him, you know."

She smiles softly, and takes a sip of tea.

"What do you want me to take with me?" I ask curiously after a little while.

"Oh, just a few things," she says. "It will be a little while before I find somewhere else, but the small things can be taken out of here to make the move easier later on. I'd appreciate if you took your books, and cauldrons. That, and your box. You know which one I speak of, Severus."

I set down my coffee, suddenly feeling ill.

"Throw it away," I say sharply. "The thing has not been opened since I tossed it in the attic, anyway."

"No," she says firmly. "I know you want nothing more than to forget, but you owe it to her. You owe it to Lily to keep that box and all the things you've hidden away in it, because if you don't have it, you being gone from her will have been for nothing."

I clench my fist beneath the table.

"Fine," I hiss. "I will take the box, but don't expect me to treasure it."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Mum says softly, "but this is something you cannot throw away."

The fight leaves me, and I do as she says. For the hour before I wake Harry I shuffle through the rickety attic, moving crates of books and old cauldrons and taking them through the floo network to Hogwarts.

I've left the box for last, and I feel my heart pounding as I open up the big old trunk in the attic and dig through dusty quilts to get to the bottom. I lift up the false floor of the trunk, revealing a magically enlarged space. I reach down, and hoist up the wooden box. It's about the size of a small apple crate, and surprisingly modest considering what is held within it. The wood is roughly cut, with a small rusted latch, and it is not varnished. Mother looks at me sadly as I take it down the stairs and I take it to the fireplace. The box is fairly light, but it feels like a boulder in my arms.

"You have to tell Harry someday," Mum says to me softly.

"Not yet," I say. "He is not ready."

"Is Harry the one who isn't ready, or is it you? You will never forget, so you may as well do the memories justice."

I feel my heart pound erratically and then I step through the floo, trying to ignore my mother's words. I take a deep gasping breath when I arrive, and I drop the box in the living room of my quarters at Hogwarts, up against the wall to be moved later.

When I return I cannot think of anything to say, but she just gives me one of her melancholy smiles, and I know she understands. So I go upstairs to wake Harry so he can get ready for the ride to Hogwarts.

We reach the platform in good time, and mill about for a few minutes. Harry's face has lit up like a Christmas tree, and he's asking a hundred questions. My mother answers almost all of them, and I let her because I know she will miss Harry most, for at least I will be at Hogwarts with him. But still, as I watch Harry waving out the window as the train glides away from me, I feel a bolt of fear go through my body as he disappears from my sight. My heart quakes, and suddenly I am twenty-two again, and I'm watching Lily's figure, pregnant and swaying on the pier, growing more distant as the ship sails out into the ocean, the salty sea air rushing past as I leave her and my baby behind.

"Come on, Severus, the train's left," my mother says quietly when I come back to earth, and she takes my arm gently, in a way that tells me she probably knows a lot of what I'm remembering.

I shake my head slightly, and I let her lead me all the way home, and I know she understands that I am not only thinking of Harry. She makes me a cup of tea, then gives me a hug, and tells me to write often before she sends me on my way. So with flash of green fire she disappears from my view, and I am in the silence of my quarters, left to wait the many hours until I see my son led into the Great Hall.

~~~~

Harry sits on the train, excited to reach the school. Despite the fact he's only been on the train for fifteen minutes he cannot wait to see his father again, but this is mostly because he cannot wait to be sorted and see the look on his father's face. He hopes he will make him proud.

Harry is amazed by the fact that he has made a friend already. His name is Ron Weasley, and Harry finds it fascinating that Ron has grown up with six siblings.

"I wish I had a brother, or even a sister," Harry says in awe.

"Why don't you?" Ron asks, seeming almost unable to comprehend the thought of not having any siblings. "Did your parents not want any more kids?"

"Well, my mother died when I was just a baby," mutters Harry, unconsciously flattening his fringe around his scar. "Dad never remarried."

"Sorry to hear," mutters Ron, his ears turning red.

"Oh no, it's not all bad," Harry says, feeling guilty for making his new friend feel bad. "My Grandma lives with us so she's kind of like a mother. Only a little bit more laid back, I guess. Grandma's really cool. She makes potions, and a lot of them she's invented herself."

"Wicked," says Ron. "So you think you'll do okay in Potions class, then?"

"I know a little already," admits Harry. "But just some. Dad won't let me get too ahead because he worries I'll be bored in first year otherwise."

"Well, the good news is, I've never heard anyone say that Potions is boring at Hogwarts," mutters Ron, looking worried despite this. "Scary maybe ... boring no. My brothers say that Snape's a super tough teacher."

Harry grins. "Yeah, I know."

"You do? I thought you didn't have any older siblings."

Harry looks at Ron for a moment. He seems alright, so he risks telling Ron something he doesn't tell people usually. He knows his dad has a bad reputation, and because they aren't at the school he is a little worried Ron will react badly. At Hogwarts nobody dares say anything bad to him about the Professor, because he usually isn't too far from Harry. Harry has no doubt that will change a bit now that he will be in a common room with other boys.

"Yeah, well, Snape's my Dad," Harry says with a shrug.

"Wait, your last name is Snape?" Ron says in awe. "That makes you ... that makes you ..."

"Harry Snape," Harry says.

"Wicked," Ron says again. "Can I see your scar?"

Harry lifts his hair.

"That is so cool," Ron tells him. "Of course ... you probably hear that a lot."

"Not really, actually," Harry replies thoughtfully. "People are pretty terrified of my Dad, so oddly enough, very few people have the guts to say hello. And I mean, sure, I've grown up at Hogwarts, but a fair few of the people there have known me since I was really little so they know me as just Harry, like their friend. Some are even a little like family, so I guess you could say I kind of do have lot of siblings, in a way."

"Wow, I bet you know tons of secrets about the school. Fred and George have only told me a few."

"I know some," says Harry, grinning.

To Harry, and Ron's obvious surprise, the compartment door slide open, revealing two boys.

"So, my friend Draco tells me that Harry Snape is in this compartment," says the tall, dark haired boy with a scornful sort of look upon his face. Harry immediately has a bad feeling, for the boy looks a great deal like a disagreeable student that graduated last year, by the name of Ryan. He was in Ravenclaw, and though everyone knew he was from a muggle family, he acted like he was one of the pure-blood crowd, and had the brains to keep up the act well. He hung around the shadier Ravenclaws, who had been in with some of the Slytherins too. "Well, is it true?"

"Yeah, you heard right," Harry tells them.

"Told you so, Jake," adds the other boy, a few inches shorter with slick blonde hair

"What do you two want?" Ron says.

"Ah, a Weasley, judging by the red hair and tattered robes," scorns the blonde haired boy as he stares at Ron. "I'm Draco Malfoy. I would say I was pleased to meet you, but that would be a lie."

"Hey!" Harry says, suddenly leaping up from his seat and stepping in front of Malfoy, who seems offended that Harry would defend Ron.

"Watch out, Draco, he might go all crazy on you," says Jake, smirking. "Might be nuts like his father."

"Hey, watch what you say about my Dad!" Harry spits, clenching his fists and stepping toward Jake.

"What are you gonna do, go all Post-Traumatic Snape Disorder on me?" taunts Jake.

"What on earth does that mean?" Harry asks, completely dumbfounded as he glances to Ron to see if he understands. Ron looks as bewildered as him. Harry thinks it sounds slightly familiar, like it might be a play on a muggle term or something.

"Wait, he doesn't know?" Malfoy says gleefully, looking to Jake.

"Know what?" Ron and Harry say almost simultaneously.

"My oldest brother Ryan says your Dad's a loony," Jake says with relish. Harry is unable to respond from the shock of how bravely Jake says it, and he listens, entranced. "Back when Ryan was in first year he and his friends let off a firework in class as a joke and Ryan told me that when it went off Snape got spooked so badly he dove clean over the desk at the front of the room and took cover. Then, he just froze there like he couldn't move, staring at nothing. They had to get Dumbledore to get him back to his senses. If you ask me, all that spying on You Know Who made him nuts."

"Serves him right for sneaking around," spits Malfoy.

"You guys are full of it," Harry says, although he isn't entirely sure they're lying. "If anyone is crazy, it's your brother, telling tales like that."

"Yeah, sure, go ahead and tell that to Professor Spook," Jake says with a grin, and before either of them can retort he and Malfoy have slammed the compartment door and sauntered off down the corridor.

"Professor Spook?" Harry mutters, confused. Ron doesn't seem too confused. It's evident he's heard the name before. He looks a little apologetic though.

"Now that was not very nice," says a girl suddenly, having whipped open the compartment door again. "I haven't met Professor Snape, but I doubt he's what they say he is. Do you think I should report it to the driver?"

"What?" Ron says, looking amazed at the sudden appearance of the girl.

"Oh, how silly of me - I'm Hermione Granger," she says, thrusting her hand toward Ron, ready to shake hands.

He just stares, and she drops her hand with a huff.

"So, do you want me to report it? I don't mind. I'm not scared of them."

"I don't think it's worth it," Harry replies, having gotten over the shock of her sudden appearance. "They're just being stupid. I'm pretty sure my Dad would agree."

"Oh, your father is Professor Snape?" she says, fascinated. "So you're Harry Snape then? I've read all about you in my history books. That means you've been to Hogwarts already, if your father's a Professor then, right? You live in the wizarding world - so why are there so few pictures of you in books? What's Hogwarts like? Is it really as big as they say it is? Is the ceiling in the Great Hall actually enchanted like it says in Hogwarts: A History? Have you sat in on any classes? "

Harry suppresses the urge to grin with amusement as she looks at the empty seat nearby. He is struggling to keep track of all the questions she just asked. And it appears she has more.

"Can I sit with you two?" she asks. "All the other compartments are full. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Harry says with a grin, glancing at Ron out of the corner of his eye, who is mouthing What the hell?

Harry just shrugs and takes his seat again. Hermione does too, and he starts to tell Hermione about Hogwarts. Ron starts to ask the occasional question too, and when they tire of discussing the school Ron pulls out a deck of exploding Snap cards, and they teach Hermione how to play. She is actually rather fun, Harry thinks, even if she is a bit of a stickler for rules. Even Ron starts to warm up to her, and soon the three of them are laughing like they have known each other all their lives.

And yet, despite the fun that he's having, Harry cannot help but wonder if his father ever did do something to earn the nickname Professor Spook.

~~~

I watch anxiously as the first years are at last led into the Great Hall. I scan the crowd for Harry. I see him quite quickly, for beside him is the newest Weasley, flaming red hair standing out among the drab browns, blondes, and blacks. They look at each other and grin, and I groan quietly. Dumbledore is chuckling beside me.

"You are going to have your hands full," he mutters. "I doubt house would get in the way of any friend of Harry's."

I do not doubt it either, and even should Harry end up in my house, like I hope, I do not think that Harry would give up a friend just for being a Gryffindor.

The hat sings its song, and Minerva begins going down the list. Naturally, Malfoy ends up in my house. I suspected that, but I hope that he is nothing like his father, despite this being highly unlikely.

At last, I hear Snape, Harry called. There is, naturally, a great deal of whispering, but from a distance I can tell that he is unfazed by this. Most of the students here already knew that it was to be his first year, anyway. The question as to which house he will be in has been one discussed quite frequently among the houses, and I can see a few last minute bets being made at the tables. Naturally, all of them want him, especially as there are a great number of older students - at least a few in each house - who are highly fond of Harry, what with having seen him grow up at Hogwarts over the years. It's been good for him, because those who have gotten to know him see him as more than just his scar, and make others around them see the boy behind it as well.

Despite the wide speculation, I myself am not even sure what house my son will be in. Lily and I did not share the same house, and Harry is certainly just enough to be in Hufflepuff, but also clever enough to be in Ravenclaw. I for one was considered for Ravenclaw myself, but the hat chose Slytherin instead.

Minerva lowers the hat over his head, and it slips over his eyes. The hall falls silent. It is a very long time before the hat shouts out the house.

***

"Alright, alright," I say in the staff room later, eager to get the start of term meeting out of the way so I can go to bed, "settle your blasted bets. Really, I cannot believe that you were all putting wagers on this, for the love of Merlin ... worse than the students you are ..."

"Which reminds me - you owe me a galleon as well, Severus Snape!" says Minerva smugly as she at last enters the staff room. There is a chorus of laughter as I pinch the bridge of my nose in exasperation.

"Oh, how the mighty fall," mocks Pomona light-heartedly.

I fish around in my pocket and slap the galleon in Minerva's outstretched hand.

"I really do not know why you look so pleased, Minerva," I say to her coolly, wanting to wipe the smirk off her face, "seeing as you now have Ronald Weasley and Harry Snape in your house, and it seems as though they are friends."

Pomona and Filius break out into peals of laughter at this, because for a moment Minerva's grin fades

"Of course, you'll be the one getting all the letters to home that I will have to write about Harry," she says, her humour recovered. "And if he stirs up as much trouble as you did at school, young man, my owl might just keel over dead."

Filius falls off his chair from laughing, and I scowl, knowing that as usual, Minerva's had the last laugh.

"Thanks to that your mother and I are still on a first name basis, you know!" she calls across the room as she goes about collecting her winnings.

I sink down in my seat, knowing full well I have been defeated for now, and I might as well stay silent before I embarrass myself. Minerva has always been one of the few I cannot beat in a battle of wits, mostly thanks to my days of being a student and her knowing far too much dirt on me.

Oh well. I have no doubt that Harry will stir up enough trouble to give her a run for her money. Fleetingly, I hope his antics don't turn my own hair grey. This hope is fleeting or a reason, however, because I know better than any other that Harry has a knack for getting into things he shouldn't. Yet, sometimes I think that's why I cannot help but love him so, because with Harry around, life is never allowed to be dull.