Petunia Dursley sat in the kitchen staring at the opened antique wooden chest before her. Lily had left it in her care the last time she ever saw her, some fourteen years ago. That day their conversation had been strained, as always, and Lily had, in the end, refrained from speaking too much of those ‘visions’ of hers. But she had managed to tell her that when things became difficult, and she saw no way out, there would be a time when she would need some of the contents stored in the chest. Petunia of course had scoffed at that assertion then. On numerous occasions she had tried to get rid of the freaking chest. No matter what she did, it always reappeared hidden in her closet, and Vernon had never noticed it.

It was only years later after she received the chest, that Petunia finally understood why neither her husband nor her son had been able to see it. Lily had loved her like a true sister despite their differences, and she wanted to protect her, so she had used ‘magic’ on it to hide from anyone but her, her nephew Harry, and anyone she deemed trustworthy enough to know about it. The fact that they were not even related by blood had either been pushed aside or totally ignored.

Petunia had been adopted by the Evans when she was five years old. Her parents had been close friends with Lily’s, so close that the couple had been chosen as her Godparents. When her parents –John and Fiona Thompson- died in a fire the Evans took her in, and it was not just because of their duty.

The Evans had loved her very much since she was a baby. She in return had adored her Godparents, so there was nothing she could begrudge then after the couple became her adoptive parents. They had treated her like in she was their own flesh and blood. She and Lily had been close, but things changed when Lily got her Hogwarts letter. Petunia had been too young and impulsive then to understand why her ‘parents’ made such a big deal about it, it created a rift between them and Petunia became jealous of Lily’s abilities and the special treatment she got by becoming the first witch in the family in five generations of Evans and four generations of Connells.

Contrary to what most witches and wizards believed, the Evans were not muggles. Both of them came from old pure-blooded wizarding lines. Randolph Evans was a direct descendant of Godric Gryffindor’s youngest son, Osric. That side of the family had not produced a witch or a wizard in five generations and they had been subsequently deleted or ignored in family trees. Elizabeth Connell’s history was similar to her husband’s but she came from Aefre, one of Salazar Slytherin’s siblings. Both had been born squibs like their recent ancestors. Both of their families had been quite wealthy when they were wizards and witches being born to the line. But when squibs began appearing the fortunes were closed off. No squib could access them, but should a wizard or witch be born they would inherit the family’s assets. This had been quite common practice among pure-blooded families and was ‘supposed’ to ‘encourage’ them to have magical children.

The magic and the money were the cause of Petunia drifting from Lily, although her adoptive sister did not care about the money, there was not much she could do about the magic. She should have understood that the Evans would not love her any less for not being a witch, and they had indeed doted on her to make up from all the things Lily inherited as the first magical heir of both Connell and Evans lines. But she had not been able to rid herself of the thought that she was not ‘good enough’ and had directed her frustration towards her sister. Lily had not understood and been hurt at first, then she had retaliated on the breaks when she came back home from Hogwarts. It was only after she married that she tried to be more understanding and mend the rift. On that visit Lily had tried to at least have a truce as both their parents had recently died. But she had not been willing to listen, and in the end, Lily left; not without telling her that the chest would open for her when she needed it the most, and three weeks ago it did.

Grunnings, the company for which Vernon had worked for almost twenty years, was filing for bankruptcy. They were just not competitive anymore and had progressively lost their market. High placed employees, among which was her husband, had been informed ahead of time to give them a chance to start looking for new jobs. But Vernon was too set in his ways and refused to accept the situation, especially when his resume kept being rejected by the many other companies to which he applied for a position. He had then taken to blaming ‘her’ nephew the ‘freak’, for all his problems. Never mind that the boy was at that school of his.

Vernon started drinking heavily and each time that happened, the arguments and recriminations flew every which way. They escalated in bitterness and violence until he hit her. She had been shocked speechless and he had become horrified. Vernon had apologized and swore that it would not happen again, that he would stop drinking. But he never did, and instead he became more frustrated and more violent. He would pick fights at the pubs, but when that resulted on being denied service, and a few altercations with the authorities, he turned his rage towards home. Petunia was there and it was more ‘convenient’. No one really questioned what happened, and she did not do anything to stop him. Things reached a point were she could not explain the bruises on her face and arms, so she stopped going out.

After two months of mistreatment Petunia knew she should leave Vernon, but she really had no where to go. She had gossip companions but no real friends, her own fault, she had admitted grudgingly. Her inheritance from the Evans had been used in part to buy the house, and what was left, Vernon had control of it. She also had no schooling beyond the regulation years, and had never worked. Petunia felt trapped and filled with despair, she did not know how to get out of that situation and she began fearing that one day Vernon might actually kill her, however unintentional it might be.

Lily’s chest had appeared open on her bed after she received a particularly nasty beating. She was crying in the bedroom and Vernon had just stormed off in a foul mood to the pub to get even drunker. The chest contained many more things than Petunia thought would fit inside. It was obvious that magic had a lot to do with that fact, and while before she would have been disgusted, at the moment she really could feel very little, except from pain. On top of everything was a letter addressed to her, she hesitated for a moment before deciding on reading it. The memory of that long time visit was as clear as if it had been just yesterday, and Lily’s words urging her to accept it rang in her mind.

Pet,

(Petunia could not help the chocked sob that escaped at reading her childhood endearment).

If you’re finally reading this, it means that my ‘visions’ (I know you hate hearing about them, but you have this chest because of them, so please bear with me my dear sister.) were unfortunately correct, believe me I wish I had been wrong.

Your husband’s become violent and blames both you and my son, Harry, for his misfortunes. I’m positive that you never told him about our little secret; else he might have dropped my son at an orphanage, and I thank you for it. I know you still love him (I never understood what you saw in him Pet, but I respect your choice if he made you happy). You wish Vernon had not changed and he promises he won’t do it again, and yet he does and each time it only gets worse. You feel trapped, alone, and believe there is no way out.

Believe me when I say I understand your situation Pet. James is like that (except he doesn’t need to be drunk and he’s never repented), only he’s such a good actor that barely anyone would believe me, even though there are ‘magical’ ways to prove I’m not lying. I really wish Mum and Dad had not insisted that I should marry him, that an alliance with the Potter bloodline would bring the Evans back into wizarding society. He never intended to fulfill the marriage contract, although he managed to convince Mum, Dad, and a few others that he did. He never fooled me though. I should have refused, but they had been so proud, so… happy that I did not have the heart to ruin it. But enough of that, my problems with James aren’t important anymore (I know we’re both dead by the time you read this, and yes, I ‘saw’ it); what is, is that you get treated and we do something about getting you safe and away from Vernon.

This made Petunia frown, she would have never thought that the man her sister married had been abusive, but then she had not been interested in talking to Lily. She had noticed that Lily was not too thrilled to be getting married, and that unlike her own expectancy for her wedding with Vernon, Lily had been actually depressed and more than a little sad. Thinking hard she could remember the occasional lost or sad looks that slipped on her face when she thought no one was looking at her wedding. Petunia had been tempted then to push her animosity aside and see what ailed her sister, but hurt pride won. Reading those lines she regretted not asking her, and keeping her distance.

Inside the chest you will find a box, open it, you’ll see it expands (I know you don’t like magic, but this can’t be helped Pet. It’s going to be necessary to get you away). There are several vials in it. The one with light blue liquid is labeled `Grudtar’s all purpose healing draught’. It’s highly concentrated so take only two small sips now, you’ll feel better, and don’t worry. I know you don’t trust my cooking skills Sis, so a very skilled friend brewed all of them for me.

Petunia could not help but shake her head, nor the rueful smile that formed on her lips. Lily would be Lily even in writing and almost fifteen years dead and buried. She was a bit unsure about drinking the ‘medicine’, but so far Lils had been right. She took the two sips and almost immediately felt a light-tingling on the parts of her body that hurt. She went on reading.

I bet you’re already feeling better Pet, but still in pain. Now take a sip of the yucky green potion labeled ‘Painless Potion’. Tastes as awful as it looks, but it works wonders. Keep the potions and the box in the chest. And don’t worry about that brute finding them, just as it was before, Vernon won’t be able to see it. It’s charmed so that only you, Harry, and later if you decide your son, or any other trustworthy people can see it. You’re probably going to need the potions often, at least for a little while longer.

Now with that taken care of I better hurry with the rest of the explanations, I know I don’t have much time on this letter and there’s a lot that needs to be said and explained. If you take a look at the chest you will find there are a few more letters, those that I wrote for you are labeled with your name and a number. It is important that you read them in the correct order. There are letters for five other people that I entrust to you for their safe delivery.

The letters are for my son, Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin and a Goblin at Gringotts bank named Cavedweller. You must give Harry his letter as soon as possible after he arrives from Hogwarts. The others he will help you to deliver as soon as he reads his letter. I know that Vernon will be in a rage against my son, you three (yes, I’m sorry to tell you, but he is going to rage against his own son too) are going to need the potions so use them wisely Pet. That man tends to put the blame for even his own stupidity on magic. If my visions were accurate the Hogwarts Express should be there in about three weeks.

Once Harry has read his letter please give him the chest. He will know what to do with the other objects I put in there. Have a bag or suitcase with those things that you want to take with you and the same for your son. In his letter Harry has specific instructions how to leave the house and where to go. I made delayed arrangements. You’ll find in the chest a neckband with a green and red gemstone, there are also a couple of wristbands with smaller gemstones. The neckband is for my baby, the wristbands for you and my nephew. Make sure you all wear them before any of you step out of the house.

Know that despite our differences I did and still love you Pet, you were always my sister and my best friend. I… saw what my Harry’s life would be with you and Vernon. It saddened me that you harbored so much resentment but I have had time to think about the way you felt and I want you to know that I forgive you for the way you treated my baby. Whether Harry will be able to forgive you and your son is another matter, but I know he won’t refuse to help you.

Love Lils

P.S. The next time you need the potions read letter number two.

Harry would be arriving in just a few hours, and that was the reason why she had been sitting at the kitchen table reminiscing about the chest. Her sister’s letters had done a lot to make her think and realize what a stupid child, and later adult, she had been. Lils had, even dead, found a way to look after her; just like she had promised to her parents. And she would have a new life away from Vernon because of magic and hopefully the help of a boy she had wronged most of his short life.

Petunia was taking advantage that Vernon was out at the pub and Dudley was also out with his friends. Her son had taken badly the changes in their home life. They had sheltered and pampered him to the extreme, believing that was the best they could provide for him. Now she realized that they were wrong. The very day he arrived from Smeltings, Dudley threw a monumental tantrum -as was his wont- when he was informed that he would not get whatever it had been his fancy at the moment. She had tried to explain they could not waste their savings on expensive trinkets anymore. That was their sole source of income since his father had lost his job.

Vernon had been most of the day in a foul mood, as he had been ever since he got ‘the news’, so he started drinking early. Before Grunnings closure, he would have indulged his son and ignored his whining; now he had no patience whatsoever. So when Dudley did not cease the tantrum, after receiving a scathing remark, the likes of which had only been directed towards Harry, Vernon struck him hard enough to send him off his chair and to the floor. Petunia had tried to defend her offspring and got a mild beating before her horrified son’s eyes.

She and Dudley talked after that. He had not wanted to acknowledge that his father had gone overboard and dismissed the incident as one in a life time thing despite what his mother told him. He had been attending counseling at school, and the tantrum had only been to see if he still could do them. It became clear that he not only felt uncomfortable doing them, but that his father had finally grown tired of them. Of course, after four days of the same harsh treatment, he began to realize things had taken a turn for the worse. Despite being spoiled and more than a bit selfish he did love his mother. He could not stand seeing what his father did to her, and had ended at the business end of Vernon’s fists, just as his mother, when he tried to defend her.

This time, when his mother wanted to talk, he had listened. She told him of Lily’s magical chest and the letters, after hearing about it he was able to see it for the first time. Petunia informed him that she was going to leave Vernon because she could not stand the situation any longer, but she would not force him to go with her. He was, after all, almost sixteen and could decide on his own if he wanted to stay with his father, with her, or even live on his own if he was able to find a way to support himself, as she was sure Vernon was not going to give them any money.

Dudley had until the day his ‘cousin’ arrived to make a decision. He was not really happy that their plans of leaving depended on ‘the freak’. After some thought, he realized that with the way they had treated Harry over the years, he was bound to refuse to help them, and he could not blame him. If he was in his cousin’s shoes, he would tell them to go see a shrink or something, and then leave without a backward glance.

This last year at school Dudley had been forced to attend therapy because of his obesity, inability to loose weight and his tendency to mistreat the younger years. I seemed that many of those children complained to their parents over the summer, and Smeltings Headmaster was forced to do something about it. He still had not lost weight, but he had learned quite a few things about himself and his family.

For the first time in his life someone he really respected -Mr. Byron his councilor - had made him realize that the way his family treated Harry was neither ‘normal’ nor ‘acceptable’. To his immense surprise the man knew about magic, his brother was married to witch or something of the sort, so he could talk about freely about ‘it’, and he began to see ‘it’ in a different way. As part of the summer work Mr. Byron assigned him, he was to get to know his cousin, doing his best to push away those ideas both his parents had instilled in him. They might never become friends, but at least he would have tried.

He also had learned the hard way how his cousin felt when he and the gang went ‘Harry Hunting’. There had been some transfers from another school, and those boys were even worse than he was. He had grown fatter over the previous summer, so he became less agile, less frightening, and instead of being the bully, he became the bullied. Not a nice experience by any means.

Vernon stormed into the house, leaving everybody still outside and headed straight to his bottle of whiskey after arriving from the train station. He was seeing red and was beyond furious. How dare those freaks to threaten him? Who the bloody hell did they think they were to tell him how to threat his wife’s abomination of a nephew? Was it not enough that they had already made him loose his job of twenty years? No, those good for nothing wizards had to threaten honest hard working people like him, and rob them of their jobs. Well, he would not put up with that. He would show those misbegotten freaks that he was not the least bit intimidated.

“Harry,” Petunia called softly as the boy struggled to get his trunk out of the car. He had frozen for a second and turned to face her, eyes wide. She had rarely called him by his name and never in that tone of voice.

“Yes Aunt Petunia?” He managed to respond after his initial surprise. He looked at her and then at Dudley. Both looked apprehensive and more than a bit afraid. It was enough to set off warning bells in his head and he narrowed his eyes. He had never seen them like that.

“Vernon… Vernon hasn’t been… hasn’t been himself lately,” she explained nervously. “He’s… he’s been drinking way too much… Grunnings closed and he blames you, I know you had nothing to do with it but…”

“Why are you telling me this? You never cared about me before,” Harry asked wearily. Something had to be wrong, really wrong for his aunt to bother with a warning.

“I know, and I’m sorry… I…”

“What the bloody hell is taking you so long useless freak?” Vernon bellowed from the living room.

“Go, don’t make him wait,” she urged him.

“But Hedwig and my…”

“Just go in already Harry,” Dudley urged him apprehensively. “We’ll get it out, and take her to your room.” His cousin stared at him wide eyed and gaping slightly. He could not help the quick smirk, but then his face turned serious again.

“Be careful what you say or do around him, don’t snap at him… we’ll… we’ll talk later,” Petunia told the confused boy and nudged him in the house’s direction.

Harry had nodded hesitantly and went inside the house. He was really worried, well actually he was beginning to be scared by the way his aunt and Dudley were acting. It was so… so not real. If someone had told him a few hours ago that he would receive an apology from his aunt about the way she had treated him all those years, or that Dudley would offer to do something for him; he would have suggested they go and get a room in St. Mungos. Yet that had just happened, and he had the feeling it had nothing to do with the Order’s warning.

“Boy! Get here this instant!” Vernon shouted again, and the young boy could not help the wince at the volume.

“I’m here uncle Vernon,” Harry had entered the living room and cautiously stood behind his aunt’s husband.

The teen was really not prepared when Vernon whirled on his heels faster than he expected a man of his considerable bulk to move. A fist connected with the right side of his head sending his glasses flying off his face, another fist went just under his chin. The sheer force of it sent him tumbling over one of the living room chairs, hurting his back in the process and almost knocking him out when his head connected with the floor. He lay there unmoving and dazed, by the time he started to react Vernon had moved and straddled him. Huge hands wrapped around his neck and began strangling him. Unlike the year before, this time the odd electric shock that had dissuaded Vernon did not make an appearance. The furious man was squeezing hard, closing the teen’s air supply. The young wizard could not really comprehend what was going on, his mind too confused to make sense. Then Harry’s sense of self-preservation kicked in and he struggled, fought and clawed like a madman. But he was no match for his uncle’s strength.

“It’s all your fault freak! All your fault that I lost my job and can’t get another! I should have gotten rid of you, or drowned you when they left you here like I wanted. But no, I had to listen to Petunia!” He punctuated each word by hitting Harry’s head against the floor.

“Uncle… can’t breathe… please…” Harry gasped; he was beginning to loose consciousness fast, and yet he still clawed feebly at the hands on his throat.

“Vernon no! Stop it, you’re killing him!” Petunia shouted from the door.

“Like I should have done when those freaks left him here!” he growled too out of reason to care.

“Aunt… help… please,” Harry pleaded.

Everything became fuzzy then dark, and then Harry heard angry desperate voices as if far away. After that, the pressure on his throat was gone and he took huge, painful gulps of air; for a moment that was all that mattered, getting air into his deprived lungs. Slowly he became aware of a loud commotion, Vernon’s angry voice, his aunt cries and pained shriek, Dudley’s panicked call for his mother, crying ‘you killed her bloody bastard, you killed her!’. A scream of rage and the unmistakable swish of the Smeltings stick followed by his uncle’s pained yelp and loud cursing, then another commotion.

Harry must have passed out for a few moments, because he could only hear Dudley sniffling and crying. Damn! Had Vernon really killed his aunt? Were the hell were the Order members? Why hadn’t they come to help him as they promised? Surely this was not treating him well. Heck! Vernon had never used his fists, nor had he blatantly tried to kill him before. Whoever was keeping an eye on him should have noticed what happened, and yet he could not hear anyone else. Figures, they had probably just been bluffing, and no one was really keeping watch.

‘Mental note to self: don’t expect them to come to the rescue in bad situations.’ His cousin kept sniffling, and then he heard soft groaning and a pained moan, followed by Dudley’s relieved voice. Aunt Petunia was alive then -good- but where the hell was Vernon? He forced himself to open his eyes, the room spun wildly and he felt dizzy, he groaned.

“Here,” Dudley said and placed his cousin’s glasses on his battered face. Thankfully they were not broken. He knew Harry was practically blind without them; he then helped the smaller boy to sit.

“Gods!” Harry croaked.

Vernon had probably done some damage to his vocal cords, it hurt to speak. He had a dizzying spell, but it passed and he was able to look around. The room was in shambles, broken things and upturned furniture, his aunt was sprawled on the couch looking bad, she was bleeding from her nose and some cut on her temple. Dudley was not unscathed either. Thankfully there was no sign of his uncle.

“Vernon?” Harry whispered.

“Gone, probably went to the pub to get more to drink. He broke the bottles he had here,” Dudley informed him with contempt, and no small measure of loathing. “At least he won’t be back for a while. Can you stand on your own?”

“I think so but…” it hurt to talk but he needed to ask. “What the hell is going on? This… this… just…” Harry was at a loss of words.

Never in his life had he expected something like this to happen, and it left him pretty shaken and confused. The Dursleys had seemed a pretty close family, if one did not count him. Vernon was harsh and verbally abusive, but only towards him. He had never been like that with his wife or child, nor had he been a heavy drinker. Had he attacked them because they were defending him or had he been violent with his aunt and cousin before? He shuddered at the thought, he might not like them, but he would not wish an enraged, drunk and abusive Vernon on anyone. Merlin! Things were just getting even worse than they had been before he left Hogwarts. Fate, Destiny or whoever was in charge ‘up there’ must really hate him, or have a really sick and twisted sense of humour.

“Good, go to the kitchen and we’ll be there in a moment. I’m going to help Mum, she’ll explain once we treat the injuries.” Dudley instructed his cousin.

The heavy teen was concentrating on other people so he did not have time to think that his father had almost killed both his mother and Harry. His world was already too surreal to have to deal with that on top of everything else. He had learned to dislike the smaller boy because of his magic, and his parent’s attitudes, but he had never wished him to die; out of his way, or living somewhere else but never dead.

Harry managed to get on his feet, if a bit unsteadily. That right hook to his chin must have addled his brains more than he thought. Slowly and carefully he made his way to the kitchen and dropped heavily on a chair, groaning as the sudden movement made him notice other pains and aches that he had not been aware of. The young teen gingerly placed his elbows on the table and his face on his hands. He had so many things to think about that he did not notice the antique wooden chest on the kitchen table. If this was any indication of how his summer was going to be, then Vernon was going to do what Voldemort and his Death Eaters had not been able to do yet, kill him.

The young Gryffindor slowly began to gather his wits. He needed to think what he was going to do about what just happened. It was obvious that contacting the Order members was no use; he had just lost whatever trust he had in them. They had given him hope that everything was going to get better with the Dursleys, and if not, they would put a stop to any problems. Yet this was worse than anything that had ever happened to him there, and no one, absolutely no one had come to stop it.

They should have noticed what happened and intervened, but no one had made so much as a peep. With his luck Mundungus Fletcher had the watch, and he was probably away, again, doing some of his dubious business transactions. Whoever was coordinating the watches should have known better than to let him do it. The dementors attacked him and Dudley during his watch last year, he had been forced to use magic to save themselves and got into BIG trouble because of it.

So no calling the Order of the Phoenix, that left three possible options neither of which sounded very appealing at the moment. He could remain at Privet Drive… No, it definitely was not an option anymore. Neglect he could live with and had for many years, death threats? No. Having one evil maniac after him was more than enough thank you. He certainly did not need another one; and since the Order was not doing anything to stop his crazy uncle, he could not risk staying. He had always know Vernon hated him, but he had never contemplated that the man hated him enough to kill him, even after being threatened by full grown wizards.

His second option was to run away, just like he did in his third year. But where would he go? The Burrow was too dangerous for the Weasleys; though he was sure they would take him in. The Grangers? That did not even bear thinking; they were muggles and would be in an even worse position to defend themselves if they were attacked by Death Eaters than the Weasleys. There was of course Grimmauld place, but that place reminded him too much of Sirius. Staying there would be too painful. Besides, it was the same as trying to contact the Order, with his luck they would send him back without listening.

He could get a room at the Leaky Cauldron. He did it in third year, but with Voldemort out to get him, it was not really a viable option; his face and scar were too bloody noticeable. Another option would be to try and hide in the muggle world, perhaps wander around a bit. It did not sound that bad, he really knew very little about the muggle world despite being raised in it, and he would like to see more of it. But for this or the Leaky Cauldron he needed money, and that meant going to Diagon Alley, which was a big no in his list.

Damn! There really was not much he could do, and it left him with his last option, which in his opinion was not much better than calling the Order, since He was the Head of it. Harry really had no wish to see Dumbledore any time soon, he was still too angry with the old wizard, and now he had more to add to the old coot’s ever increasing list of affronts, omissions and manipulations. He would run away, regardless of how unwise it was, before he resorted to asking that man for help! At this thought Harry caught himself with a sharp gasp. It had been this kind of attitude that had led to Sirius being killed and his friends getting hurt.

Harry had promised himself not to act rashly and there he was, about to do it again. Had not the Sorting Hat suggested that he had the qualities to do well in Slytherin? And if there was one thing the members of that house never did was act rashly, well almost never; most of the time they planned what they were going to do. Slytherins used their cunning and ambition to find the options that benefited them the most. Well, if acting totally Gryffindor had such disastrous effects for those around him; he might try to be more Slytherin. The problem was there might not be enough time to plan a course of action.

“Take two sips of this Harry,” the voice of his aunt broke through his reverie.

Harry had not noticed when they entered the kitchen. She was sitting on the chair beside him and had placed a small vial with light blue liquid before him. He reached for it absently before he did a double take. He recognized the contents of the vial, had taken enough dosages of the foul liquid to know what it was even with his eyes closed.

“This is Grudtar’s healing potion!” he stated astonished. “How… where…” the poor boy did not know how to express his shock at seeing her giving him a ‘potion’.

What was she doing with a potion? It was ‘magic’ after all, and she hated ‘magic’. He looked at his aunt, and saw her point to a wooden chest that was on the table. Harry noticed it for the first time, but got the impression that it had already been there when he entered the kitchen. He just had not been in any frame of mind to notice.

“Your mother… she… she was a very accurate seer, although I believe no one outside the family knew about it. Lils foresaw that I… that we… might need it, and gave me the chest before she went into hiding with you and her husband. Drink it, so I can explain. I suspect you’ll want answers…” Petunia gestured for him to drink the potion as she continued. “It’s highly concentrated so two sips will do. Then take one sip of this one.” She handed him the painless potion.

“You’re not taking them?” Harry asked rather suspiciously. He had reason; she had never been nice to him, nor had she ever worried about his well being. If he ever got sick, and he did a few times when he was a child, he did not get even an aspirin. And what was that about his mother being a seer and giving the potions to her? From what he knew they had hated each other with a passion.

“Vernon almost killed you Harry,” Petunia explained understanding his reluctance. She had never shown him care. “And on top of that you had a rather nasty fall. We can wait until you’ve taken them. If it’s any reassurance, I’ve been using them for about three weeks now, and both work very well and fast.”

Harry’s eyes widened at the implicit indication that what just happened was not an isolated incident. It seemed that his uncle had been beating her for some time. Despite his better judgment he worried about his aunt, he had not really paid any attention to her. But as he sat there with them, he could see the changes on her, the dark shadows under her eyes, the haunted look on her face, the fact that she was much thinner than he remembered; her clothes hanging rather loosely on her.

His aunt looked weary, tired and a bit desperate; he could not remember ever seeing her like that. Not wanting to make them wait any longer for some relief from the pain; he sipped the correct dosages of the potions and passed them to her. He saw as she offered them to Dudley, who had the beginnings of a really nasty shiner on his right eye. He shook his head and gestured for her to drink first, only after she drank, did he sip the potions. Harry thought that was a shocking gesture on his cousin’s part. Before, Dudley would have thrown a tantrum if he was not first, now… well it was just too strange.

“I gather he has gotten violent before.” This was not a question. But now Harry was beginning to understand the way they had looked when they arrived ‘home’ and their awkward attempts at warning him of the change in his uncle’s conduct. “How long has this been going on aunt Petunia? I just can’t recall uncle Vernon treating any of you badly before… sure I remember you and him argued, but… it was nothing more than shouts and screams.”

“Before we were married he got violent when he drank, though never with me,” she explained softly. “He got in a lot of trouble because of it. After we got married he avoided getting drunk… but three months ago he was informed that Grunnings was going out of business. He got enough warning to try and search for another job but… he was unable to get anything. He began drinking, at first we just argued about it, until one day about two months ago he… I guess he finally lost it and hit me, and has been doing it since then.” She turned away from him, looking ashamed. “He blames you for what happened to the company and me for… well, for being related to you.”

“But I didn’t DO anything! Hell I don’t even know if there’s any spell that can DO something like that!”

“I know it’s not your fault Harry,” she assured him softly, he stared and gaped at her. He was doing it too often this afternoon, but he just could not get over the changes in his aunt. “Although I do know there are… spells that can do that and much more. Lils… Lily told me about some of them when we were still speaking to each other, and later… When Vernon wanted to send you to an orphanage, Dumbledore implied it in one of the letters he sent to convince me to keep you. He kept in contact with me for a couple of months after dropping you here, after that I didn’t hear from him or magic until the letters.” The last was said quietly.

Damn that meddling old coot! No wonder the Dursleys hated magic and him so much. They had been practically forced to take him at wand point. What was the Headmaster thinking? Didn’t he realize that threatening the Dursleys to keep him would only make his life worse? Harry wanted very much to curse the old man into next year, but probably it would get him nowhere even if he managed to hit him at all, so the still enraged teen decided to change the subject.

“Why did you hate my mother aunt Petunia?” Whoa! That was NOT what he had been meaning to ask. He had wanted to know more about the chest, so why ask that?

“I… I don’t think I really hated Lils Harry.” That got her identical incredulous raised eyebrows from both her nephew and her son.

“You could have fooled me,” Harry sneered. Had he seen himself in a mirror he would have surprised himself. The sneer was a good rendition of Snape’s trademark facial expression.

“Since the chest finally opened and I read your mother’s letters I’ve had a lot of time to think.” Petunia decided to ignore his sarcasm. She did not like this lack of respect, but knew she had brought it upon herself, so she went on. “I realized I was mostly… jealous. You see… Randolph and Elizabeth Evans, your grandparents, were not muggles…”

“They’re not?” Harry interrupted aghast. This was entirely new to him, why had no one informed him that his mother was not a muggle-born?

“No, both of your grandparents actually came from very long lines of squibs. They were elated when Lily proved she was a witch and an extremely powerful one at that.” She paused for a moment remembering the Evans; she had really loved them like her own parents, and she had been so stupid. Her animosity towards Lily hurt them, and yet they still loved her. “They were always good to me, and did their best not to discriminate between us. But I was envious of Lily’s magic and all the things that came with it…” She sighed, steeled herself and went on. “There’s something that I haven’t told anybody, not even Vernon. Only Mum, Dad and Lils knew… I’m not related to the Evans by blood; they were my godparents and adopted me when my real parents died. Lils and I were five at the time.”

“WHAT?!!!” This came from both Harry and Dudley. But it was the first that was practically in shock.

If his aunt was not related to him in ANY way but name, then where the hell did Dumbledore come up with the harebrained idea that he was safer at Privet Drive because of a blood bond that certainly did not exist. Ok, from what his aunt mentioned the old coot was probably not aware of the little fact that his aunt was adopted, but still, there must have been a way for Dumbledore to know that there was no such bond.

“You’re not? But… but Dumbledore… he said…” Harry sputtered, trying to grasp the enormity of his aunt’s admission. There really had been no need for him to suffer living with the Dursleys, nor had he been safer with them. All those years he could have spent with a family that wanted him and that would have loved him. He felt like crying.

“Something about the blood of family, I don’t quite remember, it’s been a long time.” She finished for him. “I tried to tell him of course, but he would not even listen.”

“I.am.going.to.kill.that.wizard,” He gritted through clenched teeth. “He ruined my life! Made it hell…”

“He did not know Harry, don’t do anything rash that you’ll regret later.” Her nephew just stared at her in utter disbelief at her words.

“All right, who the bloody hell are you, and what have you done to my aunt and cousin?” He inquired as he stood and pulled out his wand pointing it at her. His eyes were full of distrust.

“It’s us Harry. It’s just… it’s just that things HAVE changed. Vernon has turned our world upside down. Then the chest finally opened and your mother’s letters made me think and realize that I went to great lengths to sustain a stupid childish grudge that had no grounds to exist! That despite the way I acted towards her, and you, she still loved me as if we were sisters by blood. She knew you know? She saw it on her visions. I can’t change the way we acted Harry, I can only tell you how sorry I am that we made your life hell. I don’t expect you to forgive any of us, we don’t deserve it. But she asked me in her letters to make sure you did not act rashly and I plan to do it.”

“Merlin! This is just so…” Harry slumped on the chair, his wand still in hand but no longer ready to hex anything that moved.

He did not know what to think or what to do. His anger at them was momentarily overcome by confusion. His aunt really sounded sincere, and it was true that things had changed for the worse for the whole Dursley family still, what the hell was in those letters that made her change?

“Weird,” Dudley finished for him shaking his head in disbelief.

“And it’s going to get even weirder boys.” She stated as she put the potions back in the box, despite having used them continually there was more than three quarters of each in the vials. “Going back to the chest, she left some letters in it that she wanted you to deliver. One of them is for you, as well as some sort of journal. She was adamant that you read the letter today before taking any rash decisions. The journal can wait for later, when time isn’t pressing,” Harry looked sharply at her. How had his mother known that he was planning what to do? “Don’t ask, as I said before she was a seer, a rather special and rare kind of seer,” she shrugged when he raised an inquiring eyebrow in her direction. “Lily knew this would happen and that’s why she prepared the chest. It’s filled with the things we would need to get through this situation. I just wish I had taken her seriously then, but I guess she knew I wasn’t going to.” She took out the letter that was addressed to Harry and a vial with a pearly liquid from the box. As soon as it was out of it, the vial became a rather large container. There were at least three gallons in there of whatever potion it was. “She asked me to make sure you had three drops of this potion before you opened her letter, both Dudley and I should take only one.”

“Three drops for me, why the different dosage? And did she tell you what potion it is?” He eyed the now huge vial with apprehension. He still was not sure if he should trust this new version of his aunt, although he could understand a bit how she could have changed. Getting beaten continually by Vernon would surely account for that.

“I really don’t know, she did not mention why. About its name, Lils called it ‘pearly’ -I suppose it’s because of the colour- said it really didn’t have a name. She asked it to be created specifically for you and Dudley. She did tell me it was some sort of calming draught that it helped to clear the mind and absorb knowledge faster. The complete explanation and the recipe -I guess that’s what it’s called- are in the journal. You should start reading Harry, as I don’t know how long we have before Vernon comes back.”

“Yeah, we can hope someone brings him back unconscious, but that’s only happened twice since I arrived from Smeltings,” Dudley commented shuddering a bit. His father had returned the rest of the time in a worse mood than the one he left in.

“Ok, let’s see what my Mum wanted to tell me,” Harry said as he took the letter from his aunt and gingerly took it out of the envelope. There were four sheets of parchment carefully folded, written in a pretty purple ink, and a neat handwriting. Before reading he accepted the potion. Its taste was pleasant, and like nothing he had ever tasted before. He felt it taking effect almost immediately and he relaxed, the confusion going away leaving him quite alert.

Hello my little snake,

‘Little Snake?’ Harry thought quite shocked. Why would his mother call him that? Weren’t she and his dad Gryffindors? He decided to keep on reading, the answer might be somewhere inside the letter.

Surprised? I bet you are my little snake, especially with all the things you might have heard about James Potter. He truly was all Gryffindor, and had little to no tolerance for Slytherins or snakes. Actually, he had little tolerance for a lot of things, but that’s something to talk about later.

Little snake was our private name, the one just between you and me. You got it because the first word you ever uttered was in parseltongue. So don’t believe this ability comes from Voldemort, it doesn’t. You could speak it even before he marked you. And we can only thank Merlin that James never found out you spoke it my little snake.

James might have blown a fuse if he found out, but you can’t believe how happy and proud I was to hear you call me ‘mama’ a couple of months before you were supposed to say it in English. I don’t speak it myself, but I can understand it.

Did you know the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin? He didn’t because of Voldemort and all of that pure-blooded bigotry he spews. We come from pure-blooded Wizarding families but our bloodlines needed to be re-established at the time. Neither the Evans nor the Connells (my mother’s –your grandmother’s- family) had figured in family trees for a few generations. After a bloodline has more than three consecutive all squibs descendants the names are removed. It happened to both your grandparents’ lines.

Harry was quite surprised at what he was reading, the theory Dumbledore had was that Voldemort had transferred some of his magical powers to him with that failed ‘Avada Kedavra’. But here was proof that at least the parseltongue was his by birthright. What else was his that people believed had been transferred to him from Voldemort?

I suspect the Sorting Hat might have wanted to put you in Slytherin, and you probably wouldn’t have known that it was all right to be in that house. People have told you how both James and I were the perfect Gryffindors. Don’t believe it please, as I said I was a Slytherin at heart doing what Slytherins do best, surviving against difficult odds; and James… James was an excellent actor. Unfortunately by not knowing I was a… closet Slytherin, and hearing what a wonderful person James was supposed to be, you were done a great disservice my son. You would have been better prepared to deal with all that has and will happen, had you been in the house of the snake.

With what he was reading Harry was getting the feeling that his Mum did not like his Dad and it was… strange. She had not said it, but the way she wrote about him was… too cold, almost… angry. But that could not be, everybody told him how perfect a couple they were. How much they loved each other. In the pictures in his album they looked like a happy family. And yet, she said James Potter had been an excellent actor… he really did not like what she was implying.

If you want to know, the parseltongue actually comes from Mum’s side of the family; she’s a descendant of one of Salazar Slytherin’s sisters, they never really knew exactly who, as some of those records were lost. Just as Dad is a descendant of Godric Gryffindor’s youngest son (I suspect they were more organized on this side of the family, the records are very meticulous. Unfortunately I did not inherit that trait, I got a few others but organization was not one of them. I could be organized; it was just hard for me to remain that way). Both Mum and Dad come from a long line of squibs. If you want to learn more about it, you’ll find the whole story in the journal enclosed in the chest.

So he might really have been Slytherin’s heir, and knowing that one of his ancestors was Godric Gryffindor himself made it easy to understand why he was able to pull the sword out of the hat. This was really getting interesting and he would read the journal as soon as possible. He wanted to know what else he ignored about his family tree.

Now I must move on to more pressing matters.

I’m sure Pet (that was your aunt’s childhood nickname) has already informed you I am a seer. My gift is a rare one, as unlike most seers, I can direct my visions to show me more of the vision or what I need to know. Sometimes what I see is not what I would like to happen, but you learn to take the good with the bad or you’ll go crazy with this gift. This ability lets me explore and understand what I’m seeing much better. It also helps me to be prepared or prepare the people involved for when they come to happen. The chest and its contents are an example of how useful this type of visions is.

I am really sorry that I won’t be there to see you, my little snake, grow from a little boy into a fine, handsome and very powerful wizard, and believe me; I know you will. I’ve seen it, and you made me so proud. My only comfort is what I can see of the future in my visions. I’ve had many, several times a day sometimes, since you were conceived.

From them I know your life has not been easy, far from it, and that a huge responsibility has been placed upon your shoulders by another seer. I know that you will do your best to fulfil it. Do not despair my little snake, you won’t be alone on your path. There will be people who love you by your side. Don’t be afraid to love them in return, cherish it instead, because that love is what will make you stronger, it is what will save you; and know that you have my love from wherever I am.

By the time you’re reading this, Vernon has finally gone overboard and has become extremely violent. I tried to warn Pet about him, but she loved him so, and believe it or not he loved her too (I know you’re wondering how could she? He’s, after all, such a despicable big brute, but I bet you’ve heard the saying that love is blind. It applies to the both of them). At the time I had the first vision; it was only a possibility so I didn’t insist on telling her what I saw.

I am certain Vernon has been hurting Pet for some time now, and she can’t find away to stop the abuse. I know my little one that you have reasons for being angry with the whole family; that you probably couldn’t care less what happens to her and her son. I don’t blame you for it; they neglected and abused you shockingly. But I know you have a good heart my son and you won’t deny them help when they need it. Both of them are changing my little snake, and you’ll find out they can be a good family if you ever find it in your heart to forgive them.

I won’t ask you to forgive them, although I have. Because forgiveness can’t be forced, it comes from the heart and the sincere desire to do it. But you might want to do that later, not for them but for you. Carrying that anger against them will only hurt you in the end, making you bitter and resentful. Still, I’m asking you to help my sister, for my sake if not for anything else, as believe it or not, I do love her.

Harry snorted; he could believe they were changing. He had seen some of those changes already, but it was hard to think that the three of them could ever become a family. There was a time when he dreamed of it, but that was a long time ago, when he was little. They had crushed cruelly those dreams everyday for several years until he stopped dreaming. The Dursleys as a whole had hurt him too much for him to want to have anything to do with them. A part of him believed real justice would be to leave his aunt and Dudley at Vernon’s mercy, but he really did not have it in him to do that. He would have helped them even if his mother had not asked him to.

In the chest you’ll find a thin box, like the ones you saw at Ollivander’s when you went to pick your wand. Inside there is a very special wand, twelve inches long, made of a combination of woods and with a core of Phoenix tail feather, both Unicorn and Darcorn hair and the wing feather of a Quetzalcoatl (they are very rare flying snakes from Mexico and Central America, extremely magical and poisonous, and they are creatures of the light. Some believed them the manifestation of a God). I suspect you’re a little surprised about such a mixture for just one wand, but it was necessary. You see this wand was custom made for you.

You were barely two months when I ordered it. The wand has several spells imbued in it that will be very useful to you. Among those spells is one that blocks the Ministry’s magic detectors. Any magic you do with this wand or while you have it on you can’t be traced. No more problems for underage use of magic! Another spell erases all tracks of previous spells cast with it, not even your magical signature will be detected.

This new wand will channel your full magical strength. Most wands are supposed to do that for their owners, but sometimes the witch or wizard is too powerful and the wand can’t focus and use all that power. Both your father and I had a similar problem. His wand is holly and has a core of Darcorn hair, Dragon heartstring, vampire blood and the wing feather of a Quetzalcoatl. My wand was yew with the combination of woods from two sacred trees, one from Japan and the other from Mexico. The core was Unicorn hair and a Phoenix tail feather.

Your current wand was good enough as a learning wand, but as a duelling wand it can’t channel all of your magic. Your current wand also has the disadvantage of being your enemy’s wand brother; yes I saw this in a vision. You can’t expect to use it in a duel against him and win. This other wand though, will give you an advantage over him. But don’t get rid of your current wand, carry both until you can order replicas of your new wand. Always carry a spare my son you never know when you’ll need it. I don’t know if you have met Alastor Mad-Eye Moody –he is an Auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix as your father and I are- but his motto of ‘Constant Vigilance’ is a very sound one that you should adopt.

‘Wow!’ Harry thought as he took the wand out of the box. He would be able to practice all that he needed, and would be able to learn new hexes, curses and jinxes. The moment his hand came in contact with it, a warm tingly sensation raced through his body. He could feel how his magic sort of awakened; the surge of power was exhilarating. He could only stare at the wand in something close to awe as sparks of all the colours of the rainbow came from its tip. There was absolutely no comparison to the first time he held his current wand. It had felt right then, now… this was like coming home, like finding a part of him that had been lost long ago, in a way he guessed it was so.

Wow indeed my little snake.

Well on to the next thing. You’ll find a money bag full of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. These will cover your immediate needs like transportation, lodging, food, and clothing (both wizarding and muggle) for all three of you. Beside the money bag you’ll find five Gringott’s keys. Two will let you into the Evans vaults, two into the Connell vaults and one to my personal vault. I won’t go into much detail here son, but no squib was able to inherit the families’ fortunes. Our lines were quite wealthy, but when only squibs were born the access to the family wealth was denied to them. For several generations that money has been stored and producing interests in Gringotts. As the first witch born to both lines I inherited all. As now you do. You are as of today a very rich wizard my Harry, use that fortune wisely.

Next thing on our list, take out the small jewel case that’s in the chest. It should expand; inside you’ll find several items. You’ll need four of them now; the others can wait for later. The platinum neckband with the green and red gemstone is for you, and you should wear it at all times, even when you bath or sleep. I recommend that you keep it hidden, a simple `obscuro’ charm will do.

The neckband has been charmed to offer protection and do a few other tricks when touched with a wand. You’ll find a complete list of what it does in the journal, for now it will provide the protection of a family blood bond and a disillusionment charm when tapped four times with your wand. The matching wristbands are for Pet and Dudley, and they have the same protection, but theirs can remain visible. You’ll have to activate and deactivate the disillusionment charm for them though. You’ll also need the robe brooch. It is an Evans heirloom, and your birthright, wear it proudly. Dad’s wish was that one day the Evans name would be back to its rightful place in the magical word. Unfortunately contracts were broken and other circumstances made it impossible to happen while I was alive, but there is still hope that it will happen again.

Now on to the most difficult part of this letter my little snake. I know how you hate being kept in the dark about things that concern you and your past, and I can sympathize with you. There’s something very important that has been kept from you, not because anybody wanted to, but because I was the only one who knew and I died before you were old enough to tell you. I wish it had been different, but there was no chance of telling this to anybody, at least not while James Potter was alive. Now that neither of us are among the living the truth can come out.

I think you have noticed that not many people tell you much about me, especially James friends. Well there is a reason for it, one that might break some of the illusions you had about our family. Believe me when I say I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you refuse to believe the only person that saw the real James Potter and Sirius Black. Yes my little snake, Severus Snape (he was my dearest and closest friend) has been telling you the truth about James and Sirius all along.

You see Harry, I never loved James Potter and he never loved me either. I believe you’ve seen a glimpse of the real James and Sirius, and you were… disappointed. They never changed by the way, and even got worse. If you remember well, you might recall that I disliked him, his friends and the way he acted quite a lot, my opinion of him only changed for the worst.

Ours was an arranged marriage. The Evans wanted to be back into their rightful place in the wizarding world. That was never important to me, but it meant a lot to both Mom and Dad. The Potters? Well, the ‘illustrious’ Potter family was low on funds. They hoped to gain control of both the Evans’ and Cornell’s fortunes. I knew James never intended to fulfil his part of the contract and I managed not to fulfil my own, so he never got to lay his hands on the family vaults.

Why am I telling you all this you might wonder? Well, there is really no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it. James Potter is not your real father and your real father doesn’t know he has a son. A fidelity spell on the marriage contract did not allow me to mention being with another man even if it was before I got married. That is the reason why I couldn’t tell him or any body else that you weren’t James.

On my nineteenth birthday, which was also the day before I had to get married, my closest friends decided to cheer me up. They knew I didn’t want to marry James, but that I was doing it for my parents. We went to a pub to celebrate my birthday and say goodbye to my days as a single witch. We all wore glamories as it would not do for people to see that ‘perfect’ James Potter’s bride was partying the night before her wedding.

At the pub we found an old school mate. He was all alone and working on getting very drunk as fast as he could. This guy was never popular at school and some of the girls decided to challenge me to pick him up. I was a bit tipsy and feeling sorry for myself for having to marry someone I despised, so after a while I accepted. That was going to be the first and only time I was going to be free to choose a partner for the night.

I have to admit that before that night I had barely spoken three words to him, but we ended talking and dancing. He was in need of someone to listen to him with an open mind and I’ve always been a good listener. He told me his problems, which were really serious and I tried to give him the best advice that I could.

We both needed to forget our worries for a while and I ended seeing him in a new light, and realized there was so much more to him that what he let others see. He was by no means a handsome man, and yet I would not have minded getting to know him better. We ended together that night, the best night of my entire life because of the way he treated me (like I was the most beautiful woman in the world), because you were conceived and because I found out true love is not a myth.

I got married the next day, there was really no way to avoid it, but I could not get him out of my head. The marriage contract had a fidelity clause, but that did not stop me from having friends. If I could not have a relationship with him, I at least could become his friend and did. We ended being the best of friends, but we had to keep our friendship a secret. James would have killed me and Sirius would not have hesitated in killing him. Your real father got to know you, and to care very much for you even if he believed you were James’ child.

James was not a nice man despite the face he showed to the world Harry. He… was worse than Vernon, and Sirius (how I loath the man and he did not like me either) used to goad him into being more violent. I would not have allowed him to be your Godfather if James had not left me unconscious and gone through the ceremony without me. I’m not sure if he ever did change. I had seen that he was not going to be there for you, and I wanted someone else, more stable, more mature and not cruel to be your Godfather. Remus Lupin had agreed; he was not like them. He was and I believe still is a good man. But Sirius convinced James that he was the best choice.

You, my little snake, were my only happiness during my marriage, as was my friendship to your real father. He and Remus were the only ones that believed me when I said James was not what he seemed. Your father was the one to heal me after James rages, and he was the one who created the potion that kept me from miscarrying you. As the treatment I received from my husband was far from gentle, yet as part of the marriage contract we both had to pretend to be the perfect loving family.

You don’t know how hard it was for me little one, to pretend to love someone I despised. Because of that clause in the contract I couldn’t ask anyone for help, nor could I go to the Wizarding family court. It would have been a breach of the contract and punished by loosing everything, including you. I could renounce to everything including magic, but I could never give you up son.

I know you must be shocked, not only because James is not your father, but because my portrayal of him is quite different from what you probably knew of the man. Believe me, I am sorry for having to break this news to you, but I can’t let you keep living in a lie and trying to follow ‘those’ people footsteps, they don’t deserve it. There are better role models for you.

Also the glamorie I used to conceal the fact that you’re not a Potter has started very slowly to wear off, by the time the term starts the changes will be complete. Because of the new circumstances at Pet’s home, we can’t wait until it wears on his own. In order to get away, you need the anonymity that the change can bring you, together with a way to hide your scar.

By this time you’re wondering who your real father is, and if you know him. You do, my little snake, and I know that neither of you get along well. But I’m sure that once he gets to know the truth (and don’t you dare keep it from him Harry, despite what you think he does have a heart and a right to know) you might get to see the side of him that I saw. The side of him I fell in love with. He needs someone to care for him as much as you need a parent to care for you, however late it is now. Your father’s name is Severus Snape.

Harry’s hands shook so badly that he dropped the letter, now he understood the need for the calming potion. His brain was screaming that what he had read was not possible. This could not be a letter from his mother. Everybody told him what a nice couple she and James were. But it was true that neither Remus nor… Sirius had spoken much about her. In fact, Sirius had avoided mentioning her if he could, it was always James did this, and we did that, but rarely if ever did the name Lily came to his lips.

He could not deny what he saw in Snape’s… his father’s pensieve. Pensieves did not lie, nor could they show false memories. Merlin! Referring to the man as his father sounded so… odd. Both Sirius and James had been bullies to rival Dudley at his worst; and when he confronted his Godfather and Remus about it, they had no excuse whatsoever, blaming it on being fifteen. For crying out loud! He WAS fifteen and would have never done something like that, not even to Malfoy.

He did not know what to believe, but… pushing aside all his emotional turmoil and he could thanks to the potion. He could see how much she disliked James. He had wondered how they had ended together if she did not seem to like him in the least, now he knew she never did. From what he saw in the pensive, and what he had heard from Snape, it was not hard to imagine James Potter was capable or beating his wife. How dared he hit her? What about Sirius? He… had goaded James to hurt her, but… he… had been good to him. Would he have still loved him when he found out he was really Snape’s son? The son of the man he despised?

Sirius was dead now, because of him… because he was kept in the dark and because he was a fool… He had gotten him killed and it was his fault… the person that was the closest thing he ever had to a parent was dead because of him… Harry had to take several deep breaths to gather himself together and make an effort to push away all the questions and feelings he had regarding his Godfather. This was neither the place nor the time to dwell on them

Now Harry had more reasons as to why Snape hated James Potter. His mother said she and Snape were very close friends. No wonder the man hated anything Potter, if he was the one to take care of Lily after her husband beat her. But why did Snape hate him? She said the Professor had cared for him when he was a baby. This was just too much, he needed time to think, to analyze what he had just read, but a voice in his mind was screaming that he finish reading the letter. They needed to get away before Vernon came back, and the instructions were in there.

I know this must sound so unreal to you my son, but it’s the truth. I wish I could let you think things through, but there really isn’t much time. That’s why I suggested to Pet that you take three drops of the ‘pearly’ potion. You need to be calm and collected now; there will be time to… freak out later if you wish, when you’re not in danger.

We must go on with what needs to be done in order to keep you all three safe.

I have made delayed arrangements for a three room suite at the Leaky Cauldron. It’s under the name of Duncan Harold Evans (I know, I know, the name sounds odd. It really does not fit together, but Mum loved the name Duncan so much, and when I mentioned it to Severus had liked it too. I wanted to please both of them, of course I told James it was because mum liked it, but he would not allow it). Once Severus reads his letter and you both talk about it, the name Snape might end added to the name I gave you. At the moment, your real birth certificate, that’s in the chest, does not have his name in it.

Inside the chest there are also three shrunk robes, you’ll need them to blend in at the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. The robes will expand and once worn they will adjust to fit. To leave the house you’ll have to have taken off the glamorie or you’ll be recognized. Use your new wand from now on Harry, that way there won’t be any trouble with the Ministry. The charm to remove the glamorie is the ‘Restituo veres facies’. This incantation has to be repeated five times while moving the wand on circular motions counter clockwise encompassing the whole body. After this is done, you will need to hide your scar, I did some research because hiding that type of mark is not easy. But this spell should work; point your wand to the scar and say ‘Abscondo macula malus’ wishing it hidden with all your heart. This is a really a very old and practically unknown charm, and can only be seen through or removed by the caster.

The last thing to do is to give a little makeover to your owl. I know she’s very important to you, and that you would not want to give her away. Snowy owls are rare, and so are black owls, but I think she will like to be black with some nice copper highlights and no one will link her to you. Point your wand at her and say ‘Mutation coloro pluma niger aenus’, if you want a bit more change you can make her eyes green with this charm ‘Mutation coloro oculus viridis’. None of these charms will harm her and they will remain until you cancel them with ‘restituo verus color’. She needs to have a different colour before leaving, and then send her flying to wait for you at the Leaky Cauldron.

After you’ve done that, use the disillusionment charms, walk to Magnolia Crescent and take the Knight Bus from there. Once in your room at the Leaky Cauldron you’ll need to cast some more spells to keep the place safe (it never hurts to be a little paranoid). The last page of this letter is a list of spells, incantations and charms that might come in handy.

Send the other letters tonight Harry, and tomorrow the three of you should visit Cavedweller –the goblin in Gringotts in charge of my accounts. I left instructions with him. He will know what to do for Pet and Dudley. You should also take the time to do what shopping is necessary. You do need a whole new wardrobe, trunk, broom and other things to assume your new identity. You must not be seen wearing and using the same things Harry Potter did. Don’t forget to go to Ollivander’s; he can replicate your wand, don’t hesitate in having several. They will be expensive, but worth it. By the way, since you’re already there get a wand for your cousin. He is a wizard, but I was afraid that Vernon might kill you if he found out; he would certainly put the blame on you for ‘contaminating’ his son. Vernon would have probably ended killing Pet and Dudley too.

Ironic isn’t it? The man hates magic and yet his son ends a wizard. I put a damper on Dudley’s magic, but the moment he puts on the wristband the spell will be broken. Pet already knows this as I informed her in one of the letters I wrote to her.

You’ll all probably need some rest tonight. There’s Dreamless Sleep Potion in the potions box. It is highly concentrated, you’ll need to dilute one drop in half a glass of either pumpkin or apple juice before going to bed. For at least a week or until you can start occlumency, dilute ten drops of the ‘pearly’ potion in your glass along with the Dreamless Sleep. It will help you deal with all that I have told you and block your mind from any intrusion by Voldemort (yes, my little snake, I saw about your link to him). But don’t get dependant on the potion to block him, you need to learn to do this on your own.

You should also take three drops of the ‘pearly’ potion in the morning for about a week to help you deal with all the information and feelings you’re going through. Then depending on how you’re dealing with everything, reduce it to one drop daily for the entire summer. You’ll get your summer assignments done faster if you do, besides actually learning from them (don’t groan my little Snake; this is something most parents do, pester their children to get homework done). If you’re still too stressed or something happens to make get you stressed then take two drops, also when in doubt you can always consult the journal.

I don’t know when you’ll be receiving responses from the other letters; I basically tell them about your true parentage and who our family is. They need to know if you’re going to be allowed to learn what you need to have a chance of defeating Voldemort.

When Severus contacts you my little snake, please give him a chance. He’s going to be just as shocked as you are now. He used to dream of having a loving family, just as you did. But after he joined Voldemort he began to believe that would never be. You both have a lot in common and that can bring you together if you allow it to happen. He will understand what you went through, and I believe you will understand him if he opens up to you just like he did to me.

Remember I will always love you, my little snake

Your mother

Lily Evans-Connell

P.S. There are better and more extensive explanations on the journal, it’s charmed to respond to your questions, help you train, or just to have a conversation if that’s what you feel like at the time. This journal has a part of me, so in a way it’s like having a chance at knowing me as I was before the fidelius charm. It will also be like a second chance for me to get to know you.

I think you have come across similar journals before, don’t worry I promise this would be a much better experience. I suggest you wait at least a couple of days before you start reading the journal, you need time to assimilate all that you have learned today.

Harry was in shock; by all accounts he should be screaming bloody murder. All that he had believed about his family had been shot down. He had clung to the belief that he had, at least as an infant, a happy normal childhood. Now he knew he was wrong, that all Hagrid and the others told him were lies. The only comfort that he could get was that least Hagrid, Dumbledore and most of the others had not known they were being deceived. But Sirius did, and he had lied to him. Harry was not completely sure about Remus, but his mother said he appeared to suspect there was something wrong going on. Still the both of them had placed James Potter on a pedestal, and had wanted him to worship the man; the man that had hurt his mother so much.

Sirius had even lied to him knowingly, and now he could understand why the animagus rarely spoke or wrote about his mother. Why? Why had he maintained a lie? Did he even see Harry instead of James Potter? Sirius was the one that told him more often how like his father he was, was always suggesting he played pranks and followed in James footsteps. But if there was one thing Harry was not, it was a bully; and he now knew both his beloved and ‘perfect’ father and Godfather were.

How could Padfoot face him like nothing was wrong when he had goaded James into beating his wife? How? Harry had loved his Godfather, trusted him, and cherished the memories he had of him. But Sirius had lied to him, had acted like he had never done anything wrong to his mother. He was gone now; there was nothing Harry could do. But the grief he had felt about his death had, at the moment, turned into anger and confusion. He felt betrayed and the poor teen no longer knew what to do or how to feel.

Harry wanted to shout and scream at the dead man for an explanation. He needed to know if he had changed at all; needed to know if all those years in Azkaban had made Sirius reflect on the way he had acted when he was younger. Yet, if the way he behaved around Snape was any indication, Sirius had not changed at all. Would he have been violent with him –Harry- when he discovered he was not a miniature James Potter as he seemed to believe while he was alive? Unfortunately that question was going to remain unanswered, and was probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

The teen’s anger slowly calmed down; and Harry suspected the potion’s effects were kicking in. He wanted to remain angry, wanted to rage at the injustices of his life; at finding that he had lived a lie almost since he was conceived, but could not. Anger solved nothing in this situation; and his mother, the one that had kept the truth of his true parentage, was long dead. James Potter and Sirius, the ones that had hurt his mother were also dead, and Harry could not ask them for an explanation now. He might talk to Professor Lupin, although he rather not, at least not without some of the calming potion or he might hex the werewolf into next week for keeping his suspicions about his parents relationship quiet, and making James a ‘perfect’ Gryffindor, when he clearly was not.

Harry just sighed, pushing his gloomy thoughts aside, and looked at his aunt and cousin. They had been waiting expectantly for him to finish the letter and decide what he would do. Absently he caressed his new wand, then looked at the neckband, and took a deep breath. This was not the time to dwell on his family’s or his Godfather’s past. It was time to make a decision and act upon it; two people besides himself depended on him. He closed his eyes, took another deep breath before he spoke.

“Do you have what you need packed?” Harry asked them, twirling the wand idly in his hand. He kept his voice as calm as he could. No need to let them know about his inner turmoil, he did not trust them with his feelings now, and probably not ever. They had the tendency of walking all over them or using them against him.

“Yes, but… some things are too big to carry in just one trip.” Petunia replied, looking at Dudley. He wanted to take his computer at the very least. It was December’s model, but still top of the line. The huge boy might not be good at most things but he was great with computers.

“I don’t think we’ll have the chance to come back to get them,” Harry said thoughtfully, suspecting that despite acting a bit different Dudley still had a hard time parting with some of considerable amount of stuff he owned.

“Can’t you use that magic of yours so we can take them?” Dudley whined, only a hint of his previous behaviour reflected on his voice and attitude. But it was enough to set Harry off, if only for a moment.

“Dudley,” he began slowly in a cold voice. “By all means I should just leave you both to deal with uncle Vernon on your own. If this was happening only to me, you probably wouldn’t do anything to help.” They at least had the decency to look ashamed. “You never did care for me, both of you. But… in good conscience I don’t think I can be as callous as you were. I’ll help you, and not just because Mum asked me to. Just remember, I’m doing this because I WANT to, and I believe it’s the right thing to do. But I’m not obliged to help you in ANY way. I won’t take any of you treating me the way you used to. I won’t be ordered around like your slave anymore, understood?”

“Yes Harry,” both said nodding and eyeing him wearily. Petunia had to bite a scathing retort like she would have a few months ago, accepting that they were at her nephew’s mercy and he did have the right to refuse to help them.

“Now, you can’t take most of your stuff Dudley. Muggle electronics don’t work well with magic, although Mum did include a few charms in her list that should make some things work. So choose carefully what things you really want to take.” He scanned the list again; there were some charms to power electronics, they worked like batteries or plugging the thing into an outlet. It made the muggle equipment work on magic. There was also another that would make those muggle things operate in heavily magical places, like Hogwarts.

‘Mr. Weasley would love to learn these charms. Perhaps I’ll have time to teach them to him later this summer.’ Harry thought as he reviewed the explanations. The parchment was somehow charmed to contain a lot of information, much more than should fit a normal sheet of it. His mother was really good at putting procedures down on paper in a very easy and comprehensive way. He could probably get them right in one or two tries, and they were really useful and not just charms. There were also transfigurations, jinxes, curses and hexes, apart from some defence and anti-spying stuff.

“I really only want my computer related stuff. You know, the computers, accessories and software, also…” The fat boy explained nervously, worried that his ‘cousin’ might refuse. “If you are interested in learning to use them… I’ll… I’ll teach you. Taking the books and manuals would be good then, even though they are rather cumbersome.”

‘He’s offering me the chance to use his ‘beloved’ computers? Is this really Dudley?’ Harry thought as he gaped at his cousin. ‘I have to admit I have always been curious about learning more about the things. I liked them when the Mister Hughes gave us the basics lessons back in primary school. Shame Aunt Petunia did not allow me to take the extra course in the afternoons. Well, here is the chance to learn more. Although I rather not let them know I’m all that interested in case Dudley is just back to himself.’

“All right, there is a charm that might make them work with magic instead of electricity, bring them down… the books too. I’ll reduce them along with the other things we are taking,” Harry told him after considering for a bit more, he paused for a moment and then addressed his aunt. “Did my Mum tell you about my Prof… father, my real father?”

“Yes, she did. Lily explained that she had used… something to change the way you look. Are you going to take off that…that illusion before we leave?” Petunia inquired as she put on the wristband. She could not help a small gasp as it adjusted to fit her perfectly. It felt good and she was reminded of Lily. It felt as if her sister was alive and beside her. She then urged Dudley to wear his; he too was a bit taken aback at feeling of it adjusting to his larger wrist.

“The correct name for what she did is glamorie, and since I don’t think I really have a choice, yes I’m going to remove it.” He paused for a moment thinking how to explain the reason why he had to do it, not sure if his Mum had explained it to her adoptive sister. “Believe it or not, I happen to be famous in the Wizarding world. The reasons for it are a bit complicated, but they have a lot to do with my parents… well my Mum’s and James’ deaths, so I’m not going to explain it. Because of this thing, I can’t go anywhere as almost everybody recognizes it.” Harry pointed at his scar, and then added in a soft voice. “It’s not like I ever wanted to be... famous.”

Harry grabbed the neckband and was pleasantly surprised to notice that it was warm to the touch. The moment it came in contact with the skin of his throat he felt a loving presence surround him, it was like a warm loving hug. The boy could not help but close his eyes and bask in the love that his mother had for him. It was almost overwhelming for a moment, and were it not for the potion still in his system, he would have cried. After a few seconds the feelings coming from the neckband changed and they comforted him. His Mum loved him very much, and had done the best that she could to insure that he knew it. How she managed to make the neckband do that was beyond him, but he was grateful. Harry finally had something that came from her.

“Go and get your things while I take the glamorie off,” Harry finally told them. “Be prepared to see someone completely different. My… my father’s looks are a far cry from James Potter’s, who I’m almost a carbon copy off right now.”

“All right,” Dudley said standing up and helping his mother to stand. “I… I didn’t have the chance to take your things up to your room Harry, before… before he… well, they’re by the stairs.”

“That’s fine…” Harry paused thoughtful for an instant, and then said. “Both of you should start calling me Duncan. That’s the other name Mum gave me, Duncan Harold Evans to be precise. I think it’s better if you don’t call me Harry so soon after I disappeared. Someone might just put two and two together. It would not be safe for us and my… father if people learned that I’m Harry Potter and I look like my Potions Professor,” he told them as he took the money bag, the brooch, and the robes out of the chest.

The robes expanded immediately. One was maroon, another was light blue, and the last one was the exact colour of his eyes. It was also of a much better quality, silk with a nice embroidered pattern of snakes on the cuffs, neck and hem. The pattern was in black, the snakes’ eyes in emerald green. He returned the potion box, the jewellery box and the box for his wand to the chest, closed it and reduced it. Pocketing it in his huge jeans; he did not want to leave anything that might clue people –namely the Order of the Phoenix- as to how they managed to leave the house under their supposedly vigilant noses. Harry did not know if in her letters for the others his mother explained about the wand and the other things, but if she did not then he preferred to tell them -especially the Headmaster- himself. That way he might have the upper hand and place some conditions that would benefit him.

Harry hesitated a bit before he gathered all his Gryffindor courage to remove the glamorie. By doing that he was saying goodbye to Harold James Potter, a boy that never really existed as such. He would become someone else, and live his life as that someone even if in the inside he remained the same boy he had been. Perhaps with this new identity he would have the chance to act his age for a while, he could be just a normal boy, well as normal as you can be with Snape as your parent. Of course with the Prophesy hanging on his head, it was probably just wishful thinking. But at least he would not be recognized everywhere, and people would not expect him to save the world even if he had to do it in the end.

After the fifth repetition of the spell, Harry felt a slight tingling all over his body, then suffocating heath, followed by a freezing sensation before the tingling returned and finally stopped. The young teen was not sure what to expect, but somehow in the back of his mind he had the hope that he might do without his glasses. Snape, after all, did not wear glasses, at least not in public, and his Mum had not worn any in the photos he had seen of her. Opening his eyes, the teen took off his eyeglasses and realized that he had no such luck; he was still as nearsighted as he had been before he removed the spell. He put the glasses on but his sight did not return to what it was. Sighing he decided he needed to have his eyesight examined to correct his graduation. The last eye exam he got was at his primary school more than six years ago, so it was probably long overdue anyway. The only good thing about it was that he finally had the chance to select a pair of glasses to his liking, and not the hideous things he had to wear before.

Harry began examining the changes, and took a look at his hands. Whereas his fingers used to be stubby and short, they were now long and graceful. His fingernails still looked bitten (nervous habit that he had not been able to get rid of so far). His hands’ size did not seem to have changed much, they were only slightly longer; neither did his feet, his sneakers still fit they way they did before, perhaps slightly looser on the sides, but then they never did fit him well. Dudley’s feet were two sizes bigger than his. Looking down he realized he was still the same height and weight, if the length of his jeans legs was any indication, and they fit just like they did before.

If he had Snape’s genes shouldn’t he be taller? The man was six feet three inches at the very least, but probably higher. Also by what little he knew about his mother she was probably six feet or slightly over that too. He would have to confirm that with his aunt later. So why was he still so short? Even Hermione was taller than he was, if not by much. He did not worry too much about being skinny, his mum seemed to be, and well his… father looked to be slender if not outright thin.

Harry was not expecting to find that his hair was so long. It reached well below his buttocks. Well, he had rarely cut it, and the last time his aunt did was over eight years ago, so there really was no surprise. In fact, he should have suspected something was wrong with his hair. It never changed its length, he had never had to trim it, and on the few occasions his aunt did, it grew to the same length overnight. His new long hair was a riot, as unruly as his old hair, and at the moment looking worse than a bird’s nest. It was wavy and as black as Snape’s. So he inherited the colour from him, his Mum’s had been a dark shade of red and her hair in the pictures looked wavy and a riot. At the thought of having inherited some of Snape’s features his hands immediately flew to his nose, praying that it was not the veritable beak his professor sported. Well, it did not feel like a beak, but it was longer than his other nose.

It was weird that while the hair remained unruly, he now noticed his hands were more calloused than they used to be. They looked like working hands should, odd that he never wondered why it seemed his hands were always soft. He did enough hard work most of his life, but his hands had never looked it. He also rarely scarred, though he had suffered some lacerations that merited rather big ones. He probably should take a good look at himself without clothes in a full length mirror and check if he had any marks. In fact, he was sure he was going to have some now. Perhaps not the basilisk tooth scar, Fawkes tears probably erased it completely, but there were others he must have acquired in his childhood. It would be interesting to see if he could remember how he got them.

As he checked himself, Harry realized that what had kept his appearance constant was the glamorie. The bloody thing had made him almost a mirror image of James Potter, and the teen came to the conclusion that the charm would have hidden any marks he got that James Potter did not have. Except of course for the scar on his forehead; it was a curse scar from a very powerful wizard and from what he knew no spell or charm could hide something like that. Yet his mother said she found one that did, for moment he wondered why she did not use it and then he realized with a lump in his throat that she had been already dead when he got it. Harry did not want to dwell at the moment in painful things so he decided to have a better look at himself. There was a mirror in the living room; he might as well check his appearance to avoid getting surprises later. He checked that he had everything they were going to take before leaving the kitchen.

The stranger that greeted him from the other side of the mirror surprised the teen. Wide emerald green eyes framed by long lashes stared back under black eyebrows that arched delicately on a face that was paler than his used to be. There was a very thin barely visible white scar that ran from his right temple to his chin, and he remembered falling down a fence on some rubbish and cutting his face badly while trying to escape Dudley and his gang. He had been eight years old at the time. Oddly enough, the scar did not look bad or repulsive, and added a bit of character to his face.

His cheekbones were higher and his features more angular, his lips were a lot like his mother’s and they fit him rather well. He did resemble Snape quite a lot, and yet the mix with his mother’s features softened the harsh angles. The nose, that worried the teen, was perfect for his face. Not too big, but also not a little nub as it had been. It was a nice blend between Snape’s and his mum’s. Harry eyed himself critically and had to admit that he looked good, actually better than good. He smiled at his reflection and two dimples formed, his teeth were still white, and while not completely perfect, they were not remotely as bad as Snape’s. He was not vain, never had been, but the prospect of being as ugly as the ‘greasy git’ had not been a good one. Now he knew that his mum’s beauty had helped him, and he was thankful for that. Seeing himself so different should be making him uncomfortable, and yet it felt so right. That was him. That was the way he should have looked since he was a baby.

The sounds from upstairs brought him out of his observation. He did the charm to hide his scar, checked on the mirror that the charm had indeed worked -it had- and then went to change Hedwig. She had been surprised when he approached her cage, and had not allowed him to get close for a moment. But she was a magical creature, and sensed that the strange human before her was her wizard. She hooted at him puzzled, and gently nibbled his fingers when he petted her to calm her.

Harry explained to the snowy owl what happened to him, what he was going to do to her and why. He promised to give her a better explanation later, knowing that she understood him, had always been a willing listener and usually found ways to make herself understood when she wanted to tell him something. Hedwig had hooted in agreement, though her large yellow eyes regarded him a bit suspicious of his ability to really perform the charms. Harry pretended to be hurt by her lack of faith, and she had once again nibbled his fingers apologetically and hooted to let him know she did trust him.

After the initial colour change the young wizard ended making her eyes green; the yellow eyes on black and copper looked too eerie for his taste. As a snowy owl Hedwig had been beautiful, and the change made her stunning and he told her so. Hedwig preened for him after he let her out of her cage. The boy then took her to the mirror so she could see herself better. The ex-snowy owl had examined herself critically perched on his shoulder. She had preened again, fluffed her feathers, extended her wings, and turned her head almost 180 degrees to one side and then the other until she hooted very pleased with her new appearance. He had laughed at her antics, and then told her to fly to the Leaky Cauldron and wait for him there. She should not forget how he looked like now. She hooted again a bit indignant -this time- that he did not think she would find her familiar regardless of how he looked. He apologized and only then did she take off, getting out through the kitchen door.

As she came down the stairs, Petunia was shocked at the incredibly handsome boy that awaited her by the door. His features were striking, although his hair was in serious need of a trim, and he was too thin. Harry’s voice -when he spoke- was deeper, softer and she was sure once he grew into it, it would be captivating. Lily had mentioned the boy’s father had the most sensual voice she had ever heard. It seemed his son had inherited it. They brought everything down and Harry shrunk it, until everything fit in her handbag. Dudley fussed a bit about all of his computer equipment, but once his cousin cast petrificus totalis to keep the loose components from moving and some unbreakable charms on them he felt better.

All three donned the robes, and Harry activated the disillusionment charms, first theirs and then his own. It was only after they were all under the charms that he realized they would not be able to see each other. After thinking for a few seconds he came to the conclusion that there was no other choice but to hold hands. He did not relish the idea at all, but if they did not, one of them could get lost.

The unlikely trio was just by the sidewalk when Vernon returned, almost driving his car into the house. He staggered drunkenly out of it, and pulled a shotgun from the passenger seat. Petunia noticed as two of the neighbours that were still outside -as it was still light- ran into their homes. She guessed that at least some of her gossip companions suspected what was happening to her. Seeing her husband with a shot gun had probably warned them that it was time to call the police, because things were about to get nasty.

Vernon thundered to the house, almost ripping the door of its hinges. He bellowed calling for ‘the freak’, shouting threats and curses. When there was no response, he called for Petunia and then Dudley. Insults, obscenities, and name calling were directed at trio, even if they were not present. All three gasped when the shot gun went off, and Vernon shouted that it was what Harry should have gotten long ago. The deranged man was serious about killing someone.

All three were frozen, hearing the destruction Vernon was wrecking in the once pristine house. It was Petunia who reacted first and began dragging both teens towards Magnolia Crescent; the sound of the police sirens was getting louder as they approached number four in Privet Drive. As they walked away, Harry saw what could only have been Tonks, and yes his suspicions had been correct. Standing besides her was Mundungus Fletcher, looking thoroughly chastised. She appeared to be screaming at him, and had an expression on her face that was both horrified and worried; it seemed that she had just apparated to the site. For a moment he felt tempted to reassure her, but his aunt was pulling his arm insistently. It was not safe to remain, once Tonks was there other Order members would be around too.

The Knight Bus appeared almost instantly with a loud bang the moment Harry extended his wand. He had removed the disillusionment charms in the alley where last year the Dementors had attacked him and Dudley, then stepped out of it once he checked that no one had noticed them. Stan was nice as always, and commented on how familiar he looked to him, but could not place were he had seen the teen. Harry told him they had not met before, and had refused to say much about him or his companions. He did introduce himself as Duncan Evans, his aunt Petunia Thompson-Evans – she had told him that was her real parents’ last name and that she did not plan on going by the name Dursley ever again- and her son Dudley.

After paying the teen scanned the bus. There were a few passengers who had to be dropped off before them, the bus always dropped people in the order they arrived. So Harry herded his stunned and wide eyed relatives towards the beds on the second floor, where they would have a bit more privacy. Then he suggested they get as comfortable as possible on the beds, telling them about the Knight bus’ policies and the wild ride.

Petunia and Dudley eyed everything wearily, and clung to the beds they were on with all their might. Harry had to suppress a chuckle at their faces, now that he knew what to expect he did not have that much trouble getting as comfortable as was possible. But his relatives were completely ignorant and turning green with each passing moment. They probably had more than a few questions about their ride and what they were seeing, but he could not explain anything there, too many ears. Harry also did not feel like enlightening them at the moment anyway. He suspected he would have to do a lot of explaining later, now that he knew that Dudley was a wizard, he was sure that could wait at least until tomorrow, hopefully longer than that.

‘Merlin! That is weird. Big D’s a wizard,’ and because of him, his cousin had not been able to attend Hogwarts as he probably would have. Harry felt slightly guilty, and at the same time relieved. He did not want to know how life would have been for him with Dudley at school. It would have probably been even more hellish than it got at times with all that happened to him during a normal term.

Harry was sure that getting Dudley up to date in what he should know about magic was going to be not just a bore, but among the hardest thing many had ever done. The fat boy had never been a good student, except for those things related with computers, in those his cousin excelled. The small teen sincerely hoped he was not the one who had to teach him. With the D.A. he found out that he enjoyed teaching a lot, but teaching Dudley Dursley was something else whatsoever. He could probably try anyone’s patience, even St. Mungo’s himself. Perhaps he should sick Snape on Big D.; that would definitely be interesting. He wondered who would kill who first; his bet was probably on Snape, since patience was definitely not the wizard’s forte. The thought almost brought a slightly evil smirk to his face.

As he was deep in thought, Harry had been absently trying to comb his unruly hair with his hands with no success. He owned a comb, but it was lost somewhere deep in his trunk and he really did not want to bother unshrinking the cumbersome thing and searching for it. His packing had left much to be desired organization wise, neither his heart, nor his mind had been on it. There was also the fact that the teen now knew he probably inherited his lack of organization from his mother. His… father was clearly obsessive about it. Five years as his student had taught him that much about the Potions Master.

Petunia had also been thinking. She really did not believe she could sleep at the moment. The ride was hellish and she was still too wound up about everything that happened that day. The woman was grateful that despite the all their wrong doings Harry had decided to help them get away from Vernon. There was no doubt in her mind that if she and her son had stayed they would probably be dead by now. The reason for Lils urgency on her letters became apparent. She probably ‘saw’ what could happen; her sister had once told her that although not often, she had been able to change the outcome of her visions. This was probably one of those times.

The muggle woman peered out the window watching the blurry sights and landscapes passing by for a moment, but at the speed they were travelling looking outside was making her dizzy. She then turned her attention to the contemplative figure of Lily’s child. Petunia could not help but admit the changes on her nephew’s appearance were astounding. Harry had always been a nice looking boy, but now… well he was striking, heads would turn in his direction whenever he went, even if he was very thin at the moment. She could only imagine what it would be when he reached his proper weight and had a growth spurtt.

A couple of the hags on the bus had ogled Harry with rather hungry looks when they boarded, and they kept turning to look at the boy every once in a while during their ride. She wondered how her nephew ended looking like that. Lily had told her in her letters a lot about the man that was the boy’s father, and she had been quite clear that he was actually very ugly; she on the other hand had always been considered a beauty, even if she had been too modest to admit it. The surprising combination of both mother and father resulted in a very handsome boy. The long hair suited his features quite well; leaving it below his shoulders would be a nice comfortable length.

Coming out of her reverie, Petunia spared a look at her son. He was doing as he always did when on a trip. The moment Dudley’s head touched the pillow he was out like a light. In this case it was a blessing as the ride was enough to give motion sickness to the stoutest person. Assured that her offspring was alright, the skinny woman went back to observing Harry, and she noticed his predicament. Without much thought she took out her hairbrush from her handbag, and began carefully and gently to untangle the mass of hair. Her actions startled the teen and he flinched slightly. Looking at her through narrowed, suspicious eyes he asked her.

“What are you doing?” The distrust in his voice was evident and she stopped her ministrations.

“Combing your hair,” was her response before she renewed her surprisingly gentle brushing. The last time she had combed someone’s hair was before Lily went to the magic school. Her hair had reached the middle of her back then. It was very similar to her son’s, except in colour.

“I can see that,” he snapped. “But… why? Why are you being… nice to me?”

“Because I should have been from the moment that… man left you at our door.” She paused for a moment then resolutely went on. She had had almost three weeks to think things over and start changing the way she thought about magic and her nephew. “Har… Duncan I can’t change years of neglecting you, but… but I would like to make it up to you. That is, if you allow me to,” Petunia told him quietly.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that Aunt Petunia?” His voice was cold, and a little of the anger he felt at them came through, even if he did not want to show it where they were. The Knight Bus was not the right place for it.

“It’s never too late to start again… at least that was what Lily told me in her letters. I’m… I’m not sure that it can ever apply to us… but we won’t know unless we try, don’t you think?” There was a hopeful tone in her voice that Harry could not miss. It actually drove the edge of his anger away, leaving confusion in its place.

“I don’t know,” he muttered feeling disconcerted. By all means he should have exploded at his aunt, but he was oddly detached. Probably he was still under the effects of the ‘pearly’ potion. Since Harry had not told her to stop, she had kept brushing his hair, slowly undoing the tangles in the unruly mess. It was extremely soothing, and the boy was surprised that he liked it very much.

“Think about it… Duncan. You are the only one Dudley and I have now, even if we are not related by blood. I suspect that at the moment –until you know what your father will do- it is the same for you. There is also no need to decide today, we all need to do a lot of thinking.”

Harry realized that she was right. He was completely alone now. Si… Sirius was dead, and up until he had read his Mum’s letter, he had considered him his only link to family. Now there was Snape, his… father. But the man was like a wildcard in a game; and Harry really did not believe the Potions Master would accept him as his son. The man positively hated him; for the wrong reasons, true. But the teen did not believe he would easily change what he thought about him, although not looking like a carbon copy of James Potter might help a little bit.

Harry really needed to do some thinking; his Aunt was offering him to be his family, like it should have been, and she did sound and look sincere. He just could not bring himself to trust that she would not discard him again once she was back on her feet. That would hurt more than what they had already done. Because it would really be his fault this time for being naïve.

The boy finally shrugged pushing his jumbled thoughts aside, but he let her finish with his hair. In a way he began relishing the caring human touch he had been deprived off since his parents died. He could probably get addicted to having someone brush his hair, it was… nice and very soothing. Petunia ended braiding it to keep it in a semblance of order and using an elastic band she carried in her purse to tie it. She then suggested that he cut it, at least an inch or two below his shoulder. His kind of hair was easier to keep in order when it was long. Harry silently agreed with her, if there was no problem with it at Hogwarts -he did not recall seeing any boys with long hair- perhaps he would leave it slightly longer than Snape’s. Afterwards they did not speak, but both sat deep in thought.

Thinking about Hogwarts sent Harry’s mind spiralling in Hermione’s and Ron’s direction. What would his friends think about the change? Hermione might not have too much of a problem, she was the more level-headed of them. She would surely understand that he had not known about his relationship with the Potions Master before he read his Mum’s letter. But knowing Ron, he was probably going to fly off his handle.

Ron was most likely going to consider the fact that the ‘greasy git’ was his father a personal affront on Harry’s part. The teen did not want to loose his best friend, but Ronald Weasley disliked Snape and anything Slytherin with a passion; however biased that opinion was. You could not judge a whole House based on the actions of a few that much Harry had been able to learn during his tragic fifth year. Also, in Harry’s opinion, lying to his best friend was not an option, seeing how much he had changed and looked a lot like their potions Professor. Well, he would have to deal with it when the time came, preferably with Hermione close by if not in the same room, and hope Ron would be reasonable in the end.

Thinking about Ron’s reaction made Harry begin to wonder if it had been such a good idea to remove the glamorie, but then he remembered his mother words telling him that it would wear off on its own before the start of term. So there really was no choice about changing his appearance. The teen sighed; he felt exhausted. It had been an emotionally charged day, too much had happened and he had not even begun to recover from the shock of seeing his Godfather die, and learning a few hours later about the bloody Prophesy. But tired as he was, he did not want to go to sleep, and had to thank the potion that he was reacting calmly. Without it he would have probably been carted to St. Mungos as a nut case.

The bus ride was not as long as Harry had first believed and soon they were standing outside the Leaky Cauldron. Before entering, he warned his aunt and Dudley to let him speak and do all the dealings. They should also do their best to avoid gaping and staring at the place and the people inside. Petunia had agreed to let him do the talking since she really knew nothing about the wizarding world, but she was not sure she could appear calm. Not because she was alarmed or even disgusted by being in a magical place, but because she was really too stressed out.

Dudley promised to do his best though, which surprised Harry. Big D was really scared of magic, or at least had been, since so far he seemed to be holding on without having to grab his butt to protect it. The large teen pointed out that it had been a hard day for everyone, and that their nerves were more than slightly frayed, he would do his best but there were really no guarantees.

With those promises the trio followed Harry into the ancient looking pub. Luckily for them the place had very little people around, and no one really paid much attention to the newcomers. Harry immediately took the lead and went to the back where the bar was located, while Petunia and Dudley looked around doing their best not to gawk or appear too muggle. Tom, the Leaky Cauldron’s owner, was behind the counter apparently just ordering some of the glasses. The teen introduced himself, in the soft polite way he always had, making sure to pretend not to know the older wizard or the place.

Tom did not remember booking the room, but Harry explained that the reservation for that specific date had been done a long time ago, via delayed spell. After consulting his books, the inn keeper found it lodged in his ledger. A suite with three rooms –his best- for a Mr. Duncan Evans; the date in which it was reserved did not appear, but it was marked as not cancellable. He knew that was the way some seers operated, and he really wished they did not do that. It tended to mess some of his plans, especially when it was close to start of term at Hogwarts. Those delayed spells only activated on the date they were set up to, so sometimes he ended overbooking and having to expand the inn to accommodate the extra guests, which was always troublesome. At least Mr. Evans had arrived at the start of the summer break when the Leaky Cauldron had several unoccupied rooms.

Shaking his head slightly chagrined at seer antics, the barkeep suggested the trio should have some dinner while he had his house-elves ready the room for them, the cost of the suite included two meals, breakfast or lunch, and dinner. Glancing at his relatives, but especially at Dudley, Harry decided that dinner was not a bad idea, so he looked over for an out of the way place to sit. He did not want to draw too much attention to himself, although he was noticing that his new looks seemed to be doing the work that his scar used to do anyway. The teen was disconcerted. He considered himself quite oblivious to female attention most of the times, but at least three of the witches in the room were staring at him in a way that was anything BUT innocent. Harry shivered, he suspected his ego should be having a boost when older and actually quite attractive witches had their sights on him. He, after all, was a ‘healthy’ teenager and in Snape’s words a walking and taking hormone, but instead the attention he was receiving was making him feel decidedly uncomfortable, and began wondering if looking more… Snape-ish would have been so bad after all.

Doing his best to appear non-plussed by the witches’ attention, Harry found a nice booth near the stairs at the back of the pub, and the three of them headed there. It was only as he approached that he noticed the occupant of the booth beside it and he stopped dead on his tracks, as he stared at the young witch. He knew something must be wrong for her to be there after returning from Hogwarts. He recovered quickly and had his relatives sit at the table and then helped them order dinner.

For a few moments Harry debated what to do, before he finally decided to approach her. He needed to hide his identity from most of the wizarding world, but he would not hide from his friends, especially when they seemed to be in need of help. Harry informed his Aunt that one of his best friends was sitting behind them, and appeared to need someone to talk to, so he was going to sit with her, Petunia just nodded as she took a sip of the calming herbal tea he ordered for her.

Hermione sat alone in the booth with a half full and rapidly warming butterbeer. Her school trunk was on the floor beside her, as well as Crookshanks carrier. The yellow eyed menace still in it, and not looking very happy about it. The young witch seemed to be staring dejectedly into space, and not really aware of her surroundings. This bothered the boy, as she did not even notice when the table behind her was taken.

It worried Harry to see her there, looking downright depressed, which was beyond odd for her. He could not remember seeing her depressed… well at least not after the troll incident in their first year. So seeing her like that now just seemed… wrong. Wasn’t she supposed to be with her parents? Had something happened to them? A sliver of panic threatened to surface, was she attacked by Death Eaters? His mother’s potion managed to calm him before the panic took hold, and he observed her closely. From what he could tell she was alone, and she did not seem hurt, only extremely sad and troubled.

“Hello,” he said softly. Hermione was startled for a moment; she had not noticed when he stood beside her. The young witch was clearly surprised to have attracted anyone’s attention; she had chosen that booth because it was away from the busy parts of the pub. Hermione absently gazed at him, and then did a double take, her eyes wide. “You seem to be in need of someone to talk to, do you mind if I sit?” Harry asked in that silky voice he now possessed and that despite being so similar to his father’s, was able to project warmth and some concern.

“Do I know you?” She countered, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion, which brought a warm pleased expression to the youth’s face. Hermione was confused by his behaviour, why would he be… pleased by her distrust?

The boy standing before her was probably the handsomest guy Hermione had ever seen and well, so far, Draco Malfoy had had that place even if he was a git and she hated his guts. He looked to be around her age, his eyes were an incredible shade of green that she was sure she had seen before, and his voice was soft like velvet and oddly familiar. In her experience, bushy haired bookworms like herself did not attract the attention of handsome boys. Well Harry was quite good looking, but it was different, he was her friend it had nothing to do with looks.

Hermione inwardly sighed; with the recent events at the Ministry of Magic she could not be too cautious, despite the little voice that tried to boost her ego a bit. It kept telling her that she should trust her looks more. That catching a guy’s attention was not too farfetched. She was not ugly. Hermione squashed that voice; she knew she was not a winner in the beauty department. She returned her attention to the stranger; he looked quite familiar, she just could not place exactly where she had seen that face or who it reminded her off.

“You actually do know me ‘Mione. Just not looking like this. Can I sit here?” He gestured the seat beside her. Hermione hesitated; she just could not identify who this guy was, although it was less than a handful of people called her that way. Ron and Harry included. Her eyes immediately shot to the teen’s forehead as it was in plain view -he was more around Harry’s height; he was too short to be Ron - only to find it free of the famous scar.

She frowned; Harry was the only one of those she knew capable of casting a strong full face and hair glamorie, as detailed as the one she was seeing, if it indeed was a glamorie. But a curse scar could not be hidden by that spell. He smiled widely now, and his eyes almost twinkled like Dumbledore’s. Merlin, the guy was hot! Then he tilted his head indicating that he was waiting for an answer, this made her furrow her brow again. The mannerism was very much like Harry’s, but if it was indeed her best friend, she wondered how he had managed to cast a spell during the summer break. Hogwarts students were not allowed to use magic the moment they left the Hogwarts Express.

“Yes, you can. But you still have the advantage of me,” Hermione allowed him to sit and saw the boy pull out his wand from his sleeve, and cast an extremely powerful silencing spell. She knew that one, they had taught it to the D.A. The young witch felt the magical surge and felt that she should recognize it. It was too familiar, even if she did not remember ever feeling it quite that strong. She looked puzzled at the teen; he must be older than he looked since he was using magic. So he could not be one of her year mates. Even if she had the feeling that the hot guy before her was indeed Harry Potter probably praying a prank on her.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t a clue?” He teased her raising an eyebrow –something Harry could not do- in a manner that reminded her of Snape. And that was when she realized who the guy looked and sounded like. He had a very strong resemblance to the Potions Master, although he looked way better than the ugly and greasy Professor.

“I might have,” she admitted. “But I’d rather you introduced yourself.”

“I won’t say my name out loud. Despite the silencing charm, someone might be able to find out and at the moment it’s not safe for neither of us. I will give you a clue as to who I am though. Just don’t say my old name in public please, all right?”

“All right, so who are you then?” She agreed, although with what he said she was almost positive it was Harry.

“As of today I’m called Duncan Harold Evans, though depending on some… things I might have to add another name at the end. This name might not sound familiar, but my relatives’ last name might… it’s Dursley…” She interrupted him with a gasp of realization and wide surprised eyes. She was about to call him Harry when he placed a hand on her mouth to stop her. “Remember, don’t say it, it’s not safe ‘Mione.”

“Of course… Duncan,” Hermione’s voice was slightly shaky.

So she was right, it was Harry. The young witch could not believe that she would find her best friend there, and just when she needed help. Although she had to wonder what he was doing at the Leaky Cauldron wearing a glamorie that actually drew attention to him, probably more than his scar ever did. Not that she was minding looking at Harry’s spell work at the moment. A little eye candy never hurt, even if it was her best friend. Also, how was he able to do magic? Shouldn’t the Ministry have sent him a warning? Wasn’t he afraid to be expelled?

“But… what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with your relatives? Why are you doing magic? You’re not supposed to...” She began questioning him, not giving him a chance to respond.

“It’s a rather complicated story ‘Mione and I can’t tell you all of it down here.” He sighed and shook his head a little. What would she think about all that happened to him? “But my aunt, cousin and I have a suite here; we can talk there after dinner. It came with several privacy spells, and I have a list of a few others that might make it more secure.”

“I see… So… what can you tell me now?” She was curious. From what Harry had told them of his relatives, they would not be caught dead in a magical place, and her best friend would not go anywhere with them; at least not willingly.

“Things there got really bad…” he began seriously and uncomfortable. He much rather forget what happened that afternoon. “My uncle started drinking when he lost his job some months ago. He blamed me, but since I wasn’t there he took it all out on my aunt, just because she was supposedly related to…”

“Oh dear, that’s awful! He beat your aunt?” Hermione interrupted him, reasoning things out like she usually did. He just nodded confirming it. She then went on. “And H… Duncan, she’s your Mum’s sister, there’s no supposition there.”

“Actually she’s not really related by blood to my mother. You see… she was adopted,” he told her flatly and she gasped at the implications. “Anyway, my uncle became really violent against his own family; he almost killed my aunt and me today. That’s why we left, it was too dangerous for us to remain at the house; and before you berate me about the order…” he whispered the name. And then went on in a cold furious tone of voice that again reminded her eerily of Snape’s. “No one came to our aid, not a soul. I definitely lost my trust in them. This is the second time they leave me to fend for myself when they promised to protect me. I won’t wait for a third time. Vernon really wanted to kill me ‘Mione. He would have if we stayed; when we were leaving he came back with some sort of gun.” She gasped in shock, eyes wide. “As it is, I now owe my life to my aunt and Dudley.”

“But… but at the station they…” she stuttered appalled but did not finish her sentence when Tom approached them, and entered the silenced bubble, if he noticed the charm he did not show it.

“Mr. Evans your room is ready. Your family is already dinning, would you like to order something for you and the lovely Lady?”

“Umm… yeah,” Harry said a bit awkwardly, Hermione had blushed at the barkeep’s words. At that moment Crookshanks decided to yowl. He was angry at being caged, and Harry realized that his best friend probably had no room to stay. Taking a quick decision he regained his composure and addressed the barkeep. “Tom, can another room be added to the suite?”

“Yes of course Mr. Evans, there would be an additional charge of twelve galleons a night, meals included.”

“That’s all right; you must cancel your room then Hermione. My aunt won’t forgive you if you stay on your own, she’ll want to catch up on the gossip.” She caught up on what he was offering and followed his lead. Years of getting into mischief together gave them the practice for this.

“I had not booked a room yet… I really wouldn’t like to impose Duncan, even if it’s been a couple of years since we’ve seen each other.”

“Nonsense, it’s no problem at all. She’ll be delighted,” Harry insisted and they settled the room. Tom sent a house-elf to pick Hermione’s trunk and cat carrier and send them to the suite. He was to set the kneazle free and provide him with milk, water and food. Then they ordered their dinner and two butterbeers, which popped on the table once the barkeep had reached the back of the pub.

“Do you think that sounded believable?” Harry asked a bit worried after he took a swig of his butterbeer. He was not a bad liar per se, but he did not like to lie in the first place; and the small story was a spurt of the moment thing that they both would have to remember and work on now that he had set it into motion.

“It might need a bit of work to polish it, and we’ll have to ensure your relatives cooperation, but it does explain why we’re both sitting together chatting so… amiably.” She paused for a moment then added. “Thank you… Duncan, God it’s going to be a bit hard to get used to the name. I really had no place to stay,” her voice broke a bit and her lip quivered like she was about to cry.

“Why don’t you tell me why are you here? I can finish my tale at the suite. I expected you to be safe at home with your parents by now.” He saw her bite her lip again, her eyes water slightly, and then she took a deep shaky breath.

“My… my parents are getting divorced,” she stopped to take another deep breath.

“I’m… I’m sorry to hear that ‘Mione… I… I really don’t know what to say, or what to do to help,” he spoke softly with sincere concern for her. Hermione gave him a watery smile.

“You’ve already helped… I had no where to go… no money. Not even a way to tell people what’s going on.”

“Then it’s settled you’ll spend the summer with me, and don’t worry about money. I suspect there’s enough in the vaults to support all of us.” He informed her, in his mind there was no question about keeping her close the whole summer.

“I really don’t want to be a bur…” She began only to have him interrupt her.

“You’re not, and never will be. You’re my best friend, the truer of the two of you. He’s turned his back on me once, almost did a couple of times before, and probably will do it again once he learns some things I just found out today. But you… you haven’t turned on me ‘Mione. Be sure I’ll be by your side whenever you need me.” Harry told her with sincerity and complete conviction. His words were what finally made her cry; she had not allowed herself to do it when her situation had been so uncertain. He scooted to her side, and awkwardly placed an arm on her shoulders. She buried her face in his shoulder and hugged him while she cried softly; their dinner forgotten.

“Things between them have been bad for… for a while,” she began between sobs. “But… they had not wanted to tell me. You know… not wanting to worry me, they thought that I had enough with my grades and all that the three of us usually get into.

I knew they fought more often, though they… they tried to hide it. I just… didn’t see this coming. Mum… Mum had an affair with a client, during our fourth year. She… was living with him when I returned for the break… I noticed Dad was acting odd and Mum… supposedly travelled to several congresses. Now I understand why they did not object when I spent a large part of the summer at Headquarters last year.

When I left, Mum went back to… to HIM! And… and… she… she only came back on winter break so I would not… I would not suspect. I knew something was wrong! I just… I… I was afraid to ask! Can you believe it? I’m a Gryffindor and I was afraid!”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that ‘Mione. I learned last term that we’d be more stupid than Malfoy if we were not able to admit we’re afraid. I would probably have been afraid to ask too… Do you want to go on?” He inquired softly not wanting to push her. She nodded, a bit more reassured by Harry’s words.

“We certainly aren’t more stupid than him. Only Crabbe and Goyle have that dubious honour. Besides, where would that leave us?” She said trying to lighten the weight in her heart a bit. She was not really successful. “Today after they picked me up, they started arguing… oh Merlin it was awful! Mum and Dad rarely argued in front of me, on those occasions they did it… it was not snarling at each other like wild animals, like… like today. I… I could only watch and… try to talk them into calming down. It was then that they finally told me the truth. Mum wanted me to take sides… but I… I couldn’t… I love them both… so I…”

“So you ran away because you can’t choose between them,” Harry finished putting everything together. She nodded and cleaned the tears that had rolled down her cheeks.

“I’m not sure if things are going to be better with your parents ‘Mione, but count on me to be there… Do they know where you are? I can send Hed with a letter so they don’t worry.”

“That’ll… that’ll be good, perhaps not tell them where I am. I really don’t want to have to choose sides. But they probably want to know that I’m alright, I… I just left while they were at each other’s throats.”

By unspoken accord Harry and Hermione stirred away from dangerous topics and only talked about school and the DA while they finished dinner. Before going up to the suite, Harry went to his relative’s booth and after casting another quick silencing charm, he summarized Hermione’s plight. The boy asked them to put on an act and pretend they knew her. Like their families had been close, just in case someone recognized her and was watching.

Petunia was a bit unsure about it, but a look at her nephew’s set features told her that he would not take no for an answer, and that the young lady on the other booth was very important to him. She ventured to ask if she was his girlfriend, to which he curtly responded that no, she was not, but she was his dearest friend. He also warned Dudley not to bother her or he would have to deal with him.

After that small talk they went up to the room. The group had done their best to be discrete, while still putting an act. The suite was on the third floor of the inn, and once inside it was clear that it was ample and one of the best they had at the Leaky Cauldron. Each separate bedroom had its own bathroom. The common area was very comfortable with nice plush chairs and a couch; they had a dinning table that would sit six. It also included a fireplace connected to the floo network and a nice stand for owls.

With the room came a house-elf. Turan was assigned to tend to their needs, from food to simple laundry or cleaning. This had impressed Harry a lot; he did not want to bother with cleaning, even though Hermione was not too happy to have a house-elf serving them. She knew she could not free him, and he did look well cared for, so she refrained from mentioning S.P.E.W.

The Dursleys really did not know what to make of the strange creature or the rooms that were really too ‘big’. They probably took the whole floor and more, and yet they noticed there were at least five other doors there. Petunia suspected they were similar to the room they were in. Before they said anything, Harry set several wards and silencing charms on the whole suite, using his mother’s list and adding a few he had learned the term before. All in all, it would be very hard to access the room if not invited in. Hermione again noticed that her friend’s magical power seemed to have increased in just one day.

Petunia sighed at what was clearly magic and knew she should get used to it, as she was sure it would become part of her life from that moment on. She handed Harry the shrunken luggage and Dudley’s computers so he could return them to normal size. He only returned the luggage, explaining that he did not know how long they were going to stay at the Leaky Cauldron. It would probably depend on what they talked with the goblin at Gringotts in the morning. Dudley looked for a moment like he would object and whine as was his custom, but he ended agreeing with Harry. Once their luggage was enlarged each of them took the time to drag them to the room of their choosing, with the exception of Hermione. The house-elf had already chosen a room for her, and even took care of unpacking some of the basic necessities and clothes. He would do the same for the others.

“I’m going to go to bed Ha… Duncan,” Petunia corrected herself shaking her head. It should not be hard to call him by this name as she had barely ever used his other name before. “I… apologize, but it’s going to take a while to get used to the new name.” Harry just nodded unsure of how to react at hearing her apologize to him again.

“Before you go to sleep Aunt Petunia, Mum suggested in her letter that you take another potion. It’s called Dreamless sleep, and it does exactly as its name says,” Duncan informed her. There was no animosity in his voice, but neither was there any warmth.

“Ah yes, Lils mentioned it. I wouldn’t mind a restful night,” she commented and waited while Harry called the house-elf and politely asked for a pitcher of apple juice, he was not sure his relatives would appreciate pumpkin juice just yet. His request promptly appeared on the table; he expanded the chest and took out the potion box.

“Drink it once you’re already in bed. It acts very quickly and lasts about eight hours,” he instructed his aunt as he prepared both hers and Dudley’s doses. “You too should drink this Big D; we all had a hard day.”

“I’ll like to watch the TV for a while before going to sleep,” the big boy informed his cousin.

Hermione could not help a giggle; the boy was going to be disappointed when he found out the wizarding world did not even know what a TV was. Her friend’s cousin eyed her like she was barmy; he did not know what could be funny of wanting to watch the TV. Perhaps she did not know what the TV was. Before he could ask, his mother went to her room after saying quiet thanks and bid everyone goodnight. They all nodded in response.

“There’s no TV Dudley. The Wizarding world doesn’t have something like that, and by the way before you say anything, Hermione’s parents are muggles. They are people like aunt Petunia, with no magic. So she does know what a television is.”

“They don’t? I’m going to miss my favourite program! I have to know what Inspector Lindley is going to do; it was a two part episode.” Now he would probably never know who the killer was. With a barely resigned sigh he asked. “So what do they do to pass the time if there is no TV?”

“We read,” Hermione, informed him helpfully and Dudley groaned. He HATED reading unless it was computer related and even then he rarely used the manuals.

“Boring! Don’t tell me you read Fre… Duncan?” He corrected himself. It was not that he wanted to be harsh like before. He had just known his cousin as ‘freak’ for his entire life. He only called him Harry when they were… hunting him, something he was NEVER going to do again. He had been such a bastard, but he knew better now. “Sorry, not meant to offend, it’s just… too many years.” He shrugged apologetically. Harry eyed him for a moment before he responded.

“None taken; and yes, it was too many years Dudley. To answer your questions, I do read, and enjoy it very much.”

“You do?” Hermione asked looking surprised.

“Yes I do, not as much as you do though.” He stated firmly.

“Well if you count Quidditch books I guess that you do,” She had to admit that he read a lot more than Ron did, especially when said friend was not around to complain about it. Harry gave her a pointed look. She also knew that not all of the books he read were Quidditch related, but she liked to tease him about it anyway.

“’Mione, I don’t read only Quidditch books! Anyway Big D, we also play chess, exploding snap or gobstones when there are more people. I might teach you how to play.” He shrugged at that, not really sure he would enjoy playing with him. Dudley had always been a sore looser; which usually lead to Harry ending even feeling another kind of sore if he won. “Sometimes we just talk. You better get used to it now that you know you’re a wizard.” At these last words Hermione sputtered, and eyed Harry for confirmation and an explanation. His face told her she would get one, but not just then.

“I’m doomed!” Dudley exclaimed horrified.

Harry took pity of the big boy; he just did not know what was wrong with him. As angry as he had been most of last term, and hating the Dursleys as he thought he did, he was just being… too-nice-to-them. With a mental shrug and a sigh, he went to his room and rummaged inside his trunk for ‘Quidditch Through the Ages’ and a couple of old issues of ‘Quidditch Monthly’. They had moving pictures and Harry was sure Dudley would find them interesting; he had liked football (called Soccer in the USA) after all, even if he was too fat to play. The youth returned and handed them to his cousin.

“Here read these; just be careful with them as I want them back. If you like it we’ll see tomorrow about getting you more books and other things. Quidditch is a great sport, and if you liked football you’re probably going to like it too, at least that’s what Dean -one of my roommates at school- says. The book and magazines have moving pictures; you’re probably going to like that too, it’s like those 3D thingies I heard you talking about before I left last year. I… used to play seeker for my house team.”

He could not help but feel his throat close knowing that because of Umbridge he would not be able to play again. It was then that he realized that he still might. It was Harry Potter who was banned, not Duncan Evans. There was a large possibility that he might be able to fly and play quidditch again. He loved flying and this actually made him happy; he could not help the joyful smile that appeared on his face. Hermione noticed but at her inquiring look he just shook his head.

Dudley opened the book at a random page that just happened to have Harry on it. It spoke about the youngest seeker in the last 100 years at Hogwarts and gave statistics and comparisons of his performance. He was ranked first among the amateur seekers even after being banned for life from the sport; this book was one of the self updating ones. It also said there had been many disappointed professional teams. Harry would have been their first choice in recruiting once he finished school.

“Wow! You’re in a book! And it says you’re very good… I didn’t know you played any sports,” Dudley exclaimed and he actually sounded proud that his cousin was doing well in a sport. Harry found this disconcerting.

“You never asked,” Harry replied curtly. “You didn’t even know I was in our primary school’s gymnastic team. So why bother informing the family I made it to another team?” There was a strained silence before Dudley spoke again.

“I did know about the gymnastic team, you were good too, and I’m really sorry Mum did not allow you to compete like the coach wanted. I’m sure you would have done well,” he said looking contrite. Hermione’s eyebrows were almost to her hairline. That was something she did not know about Harry, but it explained why he was so agile and nimble at times. “I just… I was a bastard then.”

“Just then?” Harry asked raising an eyebrow. “What happened to after I went to Hogwarts, and what about now?”

“I was then Harry, and now I’m trying not to be anymore. Look… I’m… umm… I’m sorry about the way I was. I have no excuse…” he began trying to apologize and convey the fact that he had changed and was still changing. Dudley now saw the error of his ways, and how wrong his father’s views were. Mr. Bailey had helped him learn to make his own decisions.

“No you don’t have one,” Harry interrupted coldly.

“Except maybe that… that I believed it was all right. Dad always said it was. When you’re little, you believe what your parents tell you.” He looked beseechingly at his cousin, hoping to make him understand. “Dad was wrong though, I know that now. Mr. Bailey, my school’s counselor,” the boy explained at his Harry’s puzzled expression. “Made me see that a lot of things I… umm… grew up believing were normal and right, really weren’t. It was really a big coincidence, but he knew about magic, so I could really speak about everything with him. I know now we’re not really related, but well… I… I… still consider you my cousin. Don’t know if you’ll ever want to… be friends but… I’ll like to… umm try?” He looked sincere and hopeful.

“I don’t know Dudley,” Harry spoke after another long silence, rubbing the bridge of his nose just under the glasses. He had not expected Dudley, the biggest bully he knew, to apologize and want to be his friend. He also was not quite sure what to do now that he had received apologies from two of the people that made his childhood hell. He had fantasized about it sometimes, but as with most of his dreams, he had never believed it was possible. “I really don’t know, Mum said that I… I should forgive you but… I… I don’t know if I want to, much less if I actually can. I need to think about it.”

“I understand Harry. I really was a bloody bastard. I’ve been trying not to be for a while… ever since I got to see the other side of the coin at Smeltings the last three terms…”

“Someone bullied YOU? I really find it hard to believe it Dudley.” Harry was clearly skeptical; he just could not conceive the idea that someone would dare go against the huge boy.

“I never thought it could happen to me either. But… these guys were really though and in much better shape than I am. They were transferred from another school that would not put up with the way they treated the other kids. Their parents are really rich and some type of politicians so they believed they could do what they wanted with anybody and get away with it. They actually did until their old school refused to take them back last autumn. At first I was angry you know? Then after one of their… hunts that sent me to the infirmary for a few days with a broken arm, I… I had time to think and realize that I had been no better to you and other kids than they were to me. If you ever believed in the saying ‘what goes around comes around’, then you should know that happened to me. I really am sorry Duncan, more than you can think, and I hope that you can at least give me a chance to prove that I’m doing my best to change… Anyway thanks for loaning me the books, I’ll be careful.” With that he picked the glass with the potion and waddled into the room he had dragged his stuff in as soon as Harry had expanded it back to its original size.

“That was…” Harry began looking a bit overwhelmed.

“Interesting to say the least,” Hermione finished for him. “Aren’t you going to remove the glamorie now? It’s only us, and they already knew you.” She saw her best friend cringe and look anywhere but her, until he finally spoke with a resigned tone of voice.

“That’s what I did ‘Mione,” he risked a look at her face and she looked puzzled. “This is how I should have grown up looking like, the… the Harry Potter you saw before was the glamorie.”

“What? But you… you don’t look like James Potter at all! And he’s your father. Actually you resemble Professor Snape rather strongly…” Harry interrupted her. He really did resemble his father enough for people to notice they were related.

“Before I tell you what happened I think you should have three drops of this,” he said taking out the ‘pearly’ potion. “It’s a calming potion, my… Mum had it designed so it really has no name. I’m on it; otherwise I’d have probably had some kind of mental breakdown by now.”

“You were acting way too calm to be true, but I thought it might be because of… well what happened…” she let the implication on the air, not wanting to mention Sirius and get her friend depressed. At that moment a black and copper owl winged inside the room through one of the open windows.

“Hedwig, you found me, good girl.” She hooted indignantly, and he petted her once she settled on his shoulder. “Ready to deliver some letters for me?”

“That’s Hedwig?” The young witch was surprised to the stunning looking owl.

“Yeah, I changed her colour so she would not be associated with Harry Potter. She looks quite impressive don’t you think?” At his words the ex-snowy owl preened for Hermione.

“She does. She was beautiful before but now, well now she looks stunning.”

Hedwig hooted in gracious thanks and nibbled through her familiar’s hair, before jumping to the table before her master. Harry took the letters from the chest; Dumbledore’s, Lupin’s and the goblin’s were not very thick unlike the one for his… father. It was more a small package than a letter. For a moment, he was tempted not to send it, but his Mum had been clear in the letter, even if he was not happy with it, he really had no right to keep the truth from Snape. The man had treated him badly, and on all accounts seemed to hate him as much as he had hated James Potter. But Snape had not known he hated his own son, and that Harry really was not related to his arch-nemesis at all, perhaps the older wizard would have behaved differently if he had. He certainly could not accuse him of being just like his father anymore, unless he was referring to himself, and well Snape indeed WAS an arrogant git.

“Can you carry all four?” He asked his owl thoughtfully not really sure he wanted to send Remus’ letter with the others. He was after all staying at Headquarters, it was closer, and he wanted to have Hedwig deliver the other three first. She hooted in affirmative nodding for emphasis. “Ok, then deliver this one first. It’s for a goblin named Cavedweller at Gringotts. Then this thick one to Professor Snape…” Hedwig hooted and looked at him with an expression that clearly read ‘have you gone barmy?’ He shook his head and smiled ruefully, even his owl knew to keep away from Snape. “Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but just do as a say and deliver this to him.” He tied the letter to her leg. “This other goes to the Headmaster… I think the letter to Moony can wait until you’re back and rested since as far as I know, he’s staying in London at Grimmauld’s place. Don’t stay for responses girl and have a safe flight.” She hooted once again, nibbled his fingers affectionately and took off.

“What are those letters for?” Hermione inquired, she had taken the three drops of the potion and had to admit that she felt better. The problem with her parents, and finding herself stranded at the Leaky Cauldron with no money had left her more stressed than she had originally believed.

“I’m not completely sure, they are from my mother. Aunt Petunia got several when the chest first opened.” He pointed to the antique chest that was on the table. “I got a long one and a journal that sounds like it’s similar to Tom Riddle’s…”

“You did not finish explaining about your appearance Harry,” she reminded him, knowing that he was stalling the explanation, and wondering why. “I’ve taken the potion now, and I was saying that you look a lot like professor Snape.”

“Well… perhaps it is because I just found out he is actually my father…”

“HE’S WHAT?”

“He is my biological father, and Mum was not able to tell him, or anyone else for that matter, that I am his son. There was this… fidelity clause in her marriage contract that kept her from telling anyone. She wanted to though, she… she loved the ‘greasy git’ and… it seems he… if not in love with her, at least he cared a lot for her. Since she could not tell anyone, Snape is certain that I’m James child. I suspect the letter to him has an explanation from my Mum, a very long explanation if the size of it is any indication.”

“But HOW? How did that happen?”

“How do you think?” He asked back raising an elegant eyebrow. He teased her to release some of the tension he felt. “I don’t think I have to explain the birds and the bees to you of all people ‘Mione.” She blushed ten shades of red, and he smiled.

“That’s not what I meant Harold James Potter…” He interrupted her.

“Wrong name ‘Mione, I’m actually Duncan Harold Evans. That’s what she named me, and depending on what the ‘greasy git’ decides I might add Snape to it. It seems my grandmother and Snape liked the name Duncan. Don’t know how my Mum managed to register me with that name though.” He added the last thoughtfully.

“All right, I’ll call you Duncan if that’s what you want, though I can still call you Harry, it’s also your name.”

“It is, but I rather you got used to calling me Duncan. It gives me some anonymity and Voldemort’s people won’t put two and two together that easily. They might suspect I was Harry Potter, but… when they check for a glamorie they will find that I’m not wearing any, so it’ll be just coincidence that I appeared when he disappeared.” He had begun to understand the benefits of getting rid of the Potter image; he would be safer, at least for a while. “I still need a plan, but I don’t have to get it done tonight.”

“Umm… you’re right there. After you thwarted You-Know-Who’s attempts at getting the Prophesy he won’t be very happy with you… or any of us for that matter that were at the Department of Mysteries. He also lost some key Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy among them. But you’re changing the subject again Duncan, so out with the explanations.” She looked at him sternly.

Harry sighed in resignation; he knew that explaining things to Hermione was not going to be easy. He had never been that good at explaining things –unless they were curses, jinxes and hexes- and right now the day’s events were starting to become too much for him. He finally decided to let her read the letter, all that he knew was written there after all. He also trusted her more than anyone, so he did not mind that she would learn that James Potter was actually an awful person, even though everyone believed him to be otherwise. Harry signalled that they should move to the chairs or the couch before the fireplace and took his mother’s letter with him. He sat on the couch facing the low burning fire in the fireplace, and she surprised him by sitting close to him.

“Here,” he handed her the envelope. “This is my Mum’s letter. It’s quite long, but everything that I know so far is there. She explains it much better than I ever would.”

“Are you sure you want me to read it Duncan? This… this is… well personal.” She hesitated in reading something that his mother wrote him, where she probably talked about very private family things.

“It really is personal ‘Mione, but I don’t mind you reading it. I… I know you’ll understand, and perhaps you can help me with a plan after you know what’s there,” he assured her.

“All right if you’re sure,” she still hesitated.

“I am, go ahead,” he insisted firmly.

Hello Hermione,

I suspect you’re a little surprised that I know your name, and that you are reading this letter. Know that I am a seer (not the kind that makes Prophesies but the kind that actually ‘sees’ events in the future) and I ‘saw’ this would happen. So I charmed the letter to add a little introduction for you when the time came for my son to let you read it.

“Look at this Duncan! She charmed it for me,” she exclaimed bemused and a little exited letting him read the first paragraph.

“Now that’s interesting, I wonder what she wants to tell you,” he mussed looking at the new paragraphs; the ink was now a nice emerald green instead of purple. He guessed it was written after the rest of the letter.

I am grateful that you’re a true friend to my son, he needs people who love him and trust him, and that he in turn loves and trusts close if he’s ever going to defeat Voldemort. There is a Prophesy that states he will be the one to kill him or die trying.

Not many people know about it, and Dumbledore had not wanted to tell him in the vain hopes of letting my son hang on to his childhood as long as it was possible. Finally the Headmaster realized that he had no other choice. He was wasting precious time that could have been used to better prepare Duncan to face Voldemort; he created a lot of problems that could have been avoided if my little snake had been aware of it.

As his friend Hermione, you know my son really had no childhood to keep; it was taken away the moment the Headmaster made the mistake of leaving Harry in Petunia’s care.

Don’t take me wrong, my sister is not a bad person, and even after all our troubles I still love her, and have forgiven her. But she allowed herself to be carried away by jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, and later by Vernon’s prejudices. I believe she has seen reason and repents of the way she treated Duncan, the same happens to her son Dudley.

It is important that Harry lets go of his grudges (however merited they are), being filled with anger and hate will hurt him in the end. And he really can hold his grudges; he inherited that trait from his father. I know that now that he has told you who his real father is you will be able to see that.

You are his friend Hermione, and the voice of reason he listens to more often than not. Help him find forgiveness in his heart for Petunia and Dudley; they could become a good family if he allows them to come close. Help him also to keep that heart pure and able to love, it is one of the things that will help him survive his struggle against Voldemort. I am entrusting my son to you, just as I have entrusted him to Severus.

Tomorrow morning, when they go for Dudley’s wand and Harry’s replicas, you should ask Mr. Ollivander for a new wand and replicas. I’m not sure you have read about this in any book, as it’s mostly word of mouth knowledge. Sometimes the original wands of very powerful witches and wizards are no longer enough to let all their magic flow through. In those cases a new wand is needed, with a core of two or more magical elements and/or a mixture of different woods.

Harry’s wand was no longer enough, even though it was good as a learning tool. The same happens to you, your wand is not enough anymore Hermione. You have much more power than what you’re able to use now. Have Mr. Ollivander make you a new wand and a set of replicas, with the same spells that Harry’s and Dudley’s wands have. Some of the spells on the wands will avoid detection by the Ministry’s equipment. That is why Harry is able to do magic with his new wand even if he is still underage.

You three will need to use magic during the summer break, although for different reasons. You and my son need to get better at defensive and offensive spells, as well as few other useful things; and Dudley needs to learn all that he missed in five years of school if he’s ever going to attend Hogwarts. I blocked his magic when he was about fourteen months, before he had his first bout of magic.

I knew from my visions that he was going to be a wizard and I had to keep Hogwarts from registering Dudley in its records. The school enrols its future students after the first proof that the child is magical, and then places them in their respective age group. That is the reason why he never received a Hogwarts letter. If I had not blocked his magic Vernon -his father- would have killed Harry and later his son and wife. That man’s dislike for magic rivals that of the Spanish Inquisitors.

Now is the time to make up for what I deprived my nephew of. He needs accelerated learning; teach him as much as you can until Remus Lupin arrives.

Remus is an excellent and patient teacher (Severus would probably kill my nephew and gain an ulcer or two from trying to teach him), and the ‘pearly’ potion should prove invaluable in helping all of you speed up your learning. It is a calming brew, but depending on the need, it will clear the mind to allow the drinker to reason and use logic. It also helps speed the learning process, both mental and physical.

The ‘pearly’ potion does have a side effect after about two months of continuous ingestion. But it’s a good one in my opinion. The drinkers become calm and collected, able to think clearly and fast in dire situations, the learning ability also increases without the need to drink the potion anymore. They also gain a better physical condition, don’t push this aside as it can be an enormous advantage when duelling. You should divide it into four portions, one for you, one for Dudley and two for Harry. He’s going to need it the most.

On to other things now; inside the jewellery box in the chest, there are two neckbands similar to the one Harry is wearing, he’ll know which ones. One is for Severus and the other for you. Harry will need to add two drops of his blood to each and use the incantation I have written in the last page of the letter to fuse them to the emerald. These neckbands will protect you, in a similar way to the blood protection from family. He needs to do yours tomorrow, before you leave for Gringotts. I could not tell him before hand of these neckbands as I was already messing too much with the future.

I’m sure Harry will want more of these protections for his other friends, so I included the instructions for making them in the journal. You’re welcomed to read it too Hermione as well as Severus, but no one else. Not even Ron Weasley… at least not for a while; he needs to mature a bit and learn to be more tolerant. Life is not black and white, and until Ron Weasley learns that, he will be more of a hindrance to the both of you besides hurting Duncan’s feelings. Be there for my little snake, he needs the people who love him close.

Take care of my son Hermione, and know that he will take care of you no matter what. I look forward to finally meeting you in the journal. It contains a piece of my consciousness. Now you should go on to the rest of the letter.

Love

Lily Evans-Connell

P.S. You’ll probably have to keep an eye on Severus too. He’s such a stubborn wizard that never pays attention to his own well being. He’s not a bad man, only a very lonely and hurt one. But once people earn his trust and affection, they have it for life. He can be as loyal as a Hufflepuff, and please for your own good, and my peace in the afterlife, don’t tell him I said that. You and Duncan should be patient with him, it might take him a while to open up, but I’m sure that he will in the end if you persevere; besides, Gryffindors are stubborn if nothing else.

“Umm…” Harry began after reading the introduction over Hermione’s shoulder. He rested his chin on her, finding that he felt comforted and not at all awkward with her proximity, as he probably should. He had to assume the potion had something to do with that. She had occasionally hugged him, and he enjoyed the human contact, but they had never been too touchy-feely.

“Umm indeed Duncan, I get the feeling she knows more than she’s telling us in the letter.” She leaned onto him and craned her head to see his reaction, but he only looked thoughtful.

Absently Harry wrapped his arms around her waist to support her better. She had never been this comfortable with guy before, but it felt good and she felt safe. Hermione found out she liked very much the comfort of being hugged by Harry. He seldom allowed contact, and when he did he was usually fidgety and nervous. Like he did not know what to do, and she had to admit that he probably did not. From what Harry had let on about his relatives they had never shown him affection.

“Yeah, it… sounds as if my… father is not going to… umm scream bloody murder when he finds out who I really am, although Ron probably will. I don’t want to loose his friendship ‘Mione.” He had begun thoughtfully and ended sounding sad. His mother had confirmed his suspicions that Ron was not going to take the news of his father’s identity all that well.

“Umm… I think Professor Snape might do a bit of screaming, ranting, or at the very least fuming. It wouldn’t be him if he didn’t, but once his brains kick in then he’ll probably analyze the situation and decide what to do. He is a very intelligent man.”

“That does sound like something Snape might do, I didn’t like him, and I still don’t. But I can’t deny that he’s a very intelligent wizard; and most of the time he does keep his head on his shoulders,” Harry sighed.

“You’re right about Ron though. He’s not going to like it, and I think the git’s probably going to behave like he did in fourth year or worse,” she sighed. In a way Ron was a lot like Percy, so set in his beliefs. “But I don’t think you should worry about the rest of the Weasleys, they are a surprisingly understanding lot, and I’m sure the twins will end pranking some sense into Ron’s thick head.”

“They probably will,” he said smiling a little. He knew he could count on those two, and that they could take things seriously even if it was not often. “I guess I should prepare myself for Ron’s explosion, he’s probably going to say so many stupid and painful things.” At least he would still have one of his friends by his side. Hermione had taken everything in stride so far.

“Should I go on reading?” She asked softly to distract him from the gloomy thoughts about Ron. She sometimes wondered if the redhead could really be considered a good friend, because as much as she cares for him, there were times she doubted it.

“Yeah, I think you should go on ‘Mione, she did ask you to keep on reading. She’s even letting you read the journal.”

“Ok, here I go,”

Hermione kept reading and at intervals she stopped to either comment, be indignant or simply offer as much comfort and reassurance to her friend as she could. She had read and heard so many wonderful things about James Potter and the marauders, that it was hard to stomach what Harry’s Mum implied. Her best friend shocked her even more by commenting that he had ‘seen’ how awful Sirius and James were, although he did not tell her where he saw it. He told her that he had confronted both Remus and Sirius about it, and that he had only been more disappointed in them by their answer, as well as disgusted. They had been the worse kind of bullies he had ever seen.

The young witch was also appalled at hearing how Lily hated Sirius, and she wondered if Azkaban had indeed changed him. He behaved well with Harry and them, but she had seen how he reacted to Professor Snape. That was not enough to know if he had changed from the bully he had been. But ever since she met him, she had the feeling that he was just an immature kid, even younger than Harry, Ron and herself. He did not seem to take responsibilities seriously, although he seemed to really love her friend, or at least the fact that he was James Potter’s son. She wondered if Sirius had ever acknowledged that his Godson was a unique person and not a clone of his father. Would he have still loved him after finding out that he was Professor Snape’s son? Somehow she believed that he would not, and it pained her for Harry’s sake, that man’s hatred for the Potions Master ran too deep.

Being a fast reader she did not take long finishing the letter, and was glad for the potion to soothe her already frayed nerves, as well as Harry’s presence. He really had an odd calming quality about him, he always had; and laying there against him on the couch was also comforting for the both of them. They stayed like that for a while enjoying each other’s presence, until they began yawning. In silent agreement they stood up and went to the table where the chest was. Harry fixed the Dreamless sleep for both of them and to his added the extra ten drops of the pearly potion; only mentioning that they would buy four smaller vials to divide it after they visited Gringotts before he went to his room.

Severus Snape was just entering his rooms at Hogwarts after brewing none-stop for about seven hours, and was about ready to take a relaxing bath and go to bed, when an unfamiliar black and copper owl swept into his chambers. It circled his head a couple of times, to draw his attention, before landing on his cluttered desk and extending a leg that carried a bulky envelope. He sighed and after collecting an owl treat from his kitchenette he untied the package. The black and copper owl, with intriguing and actually familiar emerald eyes accepted the treat, hooted in gracious thanks and flew away to deliver the other letters it carried.

The Potions Master was curious about the sender, he did not receive much correspondence, but at the moment he felt too sweaty and grimy from brewing potions almost all day. Whatever it was did not seem to be urgent, so he decided to take his bath, a light dinner, and then see what the package contained. It was addressed to him in a familiar tidy handwriting, but at the moment he could not remember where he had seen it before, or who it belonged to. Although he had the vague feeling that he should recognize it.

Once he was clean, and wearing a warm house robe –the dungeons were always cold, even during the summer- he settled comfortably on his favorite chair by the fire, tired feet propped on an ottoman and a glass of Ogden’s fire whiskey on hand. He then picked his thick reading glasses.

Due to some spells and rituals he went through in his youth; he was practically blind as a bat in lighted places. Although at night his vision was as sharp as an owl’s. To be able to function he had used glasses for a while until he heard a muggleborn talk about contact lenses. The concept had intrigued him and he had gotten himself a pair. In his opinion, they were the best invention muggles ever created. But after a day in front of a cauldron he needed to rest his eyes and for that he used his glasses.

When he had everything he needed Severus proceeded to sate his curiosity and opened the package. There was a letter and a small green leather journal that was not very thick. He decided to start with the letter. The familiarity of the handwriting and the purple ink was nagging him to remember who it was from.

Dearest Sev

The letter started like that and he almost dropped it in shock. There was only one person who had ever started letters to him that way, and she died a long ago, Lily Evans Potter. It could not be, not after so long. So he performed several identifying spells on the letter, all confirmed the authenticity. It came from her, she had written it roughly fourteen years ago, which meant it was done before she went under the fidelius charm, but not much. This had to be a delayed owl -seers especially used them- and he always suspected Lily was one, but he never expected receiving anything from her.

I know this package must come to you as a shock, but you shouldn’t be surprised my beloved friend. I always told you we’ll be able to talk again no matter what happened to me. You know I do my best to keep my promises, even after death. Especially to you who were my strength, my most trusted friend, one of the most important persons of my life. You and my son had that place, never forget it Severus, NEVER.

You always suspected I was a seer, and you were right, I was. This letter and the journal are in your hands because of my visions (Don’t you DARE snort Severus Antoine Snape! I’m not like Trelawney. By the way, she isn’t a fraud just very unreliable). Some things had to happen before this letter could reach you. They are not good things, but if you’re reading this then they have worked for the best, and the tragedy I foresaw was avoided.

There were a few things I needed you to know, and now it’s time for me to say all those things I wanted to while I was alive, and that I could not because of the fidelity clause in my marriage contract to James.

First and foremost, I love you, as in, I was in love with you when I was alive.

“Please Lily, don’t do this to me. Not after fifteen years, not when you’re gone!” he almost begged closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He had loved her more than his life once he got to know her; he still did even after so many years since she was killed. But she belonged to that bastard Potter, and because of that damned clause he couldn’t do anything but be her friend, be there when she needed him; use all his knowledge to sneak into her house after Potter’s rages to heal her.

It’s not my intention to ever hurt you Severus, but I believe it’s fair to let you know I returned your feelings. I knew, I could see it in your eyes, in the way you treated me, even in the way that glorious voice of yours would have a ‘special’ tone just for me. I fell in love with you the night you decided to go to Dumbledore for help… yes that brunette was me.

That was the best night of my life Sev. You made me feel so special, so… loved. Sometimes the memory of your caresses and kisses was the only thing that kept me going on those nights James claimed his husbandry rights (thank all the Gods that wasn’t often). I wanted so much to tell you it was me, especially when I found I was pregnant.

This is going to be hard for you, but there is no easy way to say it. Harry is your son Severus, not James.

“Dear Merlin, no! No, no, no, it can’t be! He can’t be my son, there’s no way Potter is my son!” He stood up; the letter had fallen from his trembling hands. He began pacing in earnest his mind refusing to believe what he just read. “He’s a carbon copy of James Potter, this is a sick joke, it has to be. That boy can’t be my son, he just… can’t be mine,” he was in shock muttering to himself on and on.

Slowly, his intellect began to take control again, analyzing what he read so far. No one save Lily would be able to speak of what was written. No one knew James was abusive, or that he went to Lily to help her. And not even Dumbledore knew it had been that one nightstand that had helped him decide to betray his Dark Master. So the letter was authentic, and that meant the spoiled brat, that was the splitting image of James Potter, was his son. He had a hard time accepting that, but he knew there must be an explanation about the boy’s looks. After pacing some more he sat on his chair, picked the letter and began reading again.

Back with me again?

I am really sorry Sev; I never wanted to keep this knowledge from you. I even tried to tell you several times, but the fidelity charm wouldn’t allow me to. The words would simply fail to come; I could not speak or write about it.

You may be wondering how I managed to tell you now, and it’s because of an odd loophole in the charm. You see, this letter won’t be read while either James or I are alive. The contract is null once one of the parties is dead. Because of that, now I can tell as many people as I want about James not being ‘perfect’, and about our son.

Knowing you, you’re wondering who else I have told. Not many I assure you, only those that needed to know; Harry, my ADOPTIVE sister Petunia and probably her son, Dumbledore, Remus and Hermione Granger.

“What? Dumbledore and Potter are logical, and I can understand the werewolf; he wasn’t like the others. In fact, I remember he once confronted Potter and Black about the way they treated Lily, but why Granger?” He thought out loud.

Are you through with questioning my judgment?

He could just imagine her standing with her hands on her hips, assuming an offended pose only to start laughing with mirth and mischief in her eyes. This letter was so vivid, so much… Lily, that he could picture her there beside him, almost as if she was reading it aloud herself; he made a point to read it through without further interruptions. He needed some answers and he would not get them any sooner if he stopped at every paragraph.

Good, I’m sorry there are so many people that know you’re my son’s father. I know you haven’t changed much, and you were always a very private person. You probably wanted to keep this a secret. But that can’t be Sev. There are a few reasons for it that I’ll explain.

You know I was good with charms, transfiguration, and arithmancy. When I found out I was pregnant (by the way a witch always knows) with your child, I knew there was going to be trouble. So I began researching ways to protect you and our baby from James wrath. You know he, along with the mutt, would have tried to kill you both.

The best solution was to pass Harry as James’s son. So after a lot of work, I managed to create a glamorie that couldn’t be detected and that would last long. Sixteen years to be exact. On July 31st -Duncan’s sixteenth birthday- (that’s what I named him by the way, Duncan Harold Evans. You and mother suggested the name. It required a bit of tricky charms to pull off the birth certificate but I managed it), the glamorie would begin to wear off. By the start of term he will look like he was supposed to all his life. Which is nothing like he did the last time you saw him; except for the height and thinness. He owes that to being malnourished since he was fifteen months.

I know (I saw it in a vision as I did everything else), that you believe our son to have been spoiled and pampered, much like James was. Let me disabuse you of that notion Severus. Petunia and I were not in good terms, though I still love and have forgiven my sister. She, at the time, was unable to see beyond her jealousy; Harry represented what she was missing, magic. She took it out on him, and her husband did the same. Our son was verbally and emotionally abused by them, he was also occasionally beaten for no reason.

Life wasn’t easy for him Sev. Vernon -my sister’s husband- hates magic and magical people as much as the inquisitors did long ago. Petunia was jealous of my magic and believed my parents would love her less, first because she was adopted, and second because she did not have magic. I am happy that she has finally seen the error of her ways. She now wants to make it up to Duncan, it might take some time but they will become a family. Our son needs it Sev; he needs all the love he can get if he is to survive the fight against Voldemort.

Duncan was never loved, never pampered or spoiled while he lived with my sister and her family. He is not arrogant, and his disregard for rules is not rebellion, as you seem to think. He just believes he has to be the one to do everything. That no one will be there for him, even though he now has people willing to help him, he still believes deep down that he is on his own. That is the way he grew up; there was no one to depend on but himself. There was no adult to help him, to listen to him, or offer support; he was always alone, and had no friends until he arrived to Hogwarts. Your son actually considers himself a freak, an anomaly, a burden to those close to him, useless, and unworthy of affection. He heard it enough times in his life to believe it’s true.

I saw so much of his life since he was conceived, and it broke my heart to know our child, my little snake, was going to have such a difficult life. The worst thing was knowing there was nothing I could do to avoid it, to keep him safe, loved, and reassured that he is worthy of affection; that he is not useless. I had to wait almost fifteen years (much too long) until the time was right. That time has finally come.

You probably don’t believe my words and you’ll want proof. The best I can give you right now is this letter. To get the others you will have to talk to Petunia, and she will tell you what Duncan’s life was like, under Veritasserum if need be (I know you rarely take things at face value).

I left this letter and the others, as well as some potions and things that they would need in a charmed chest in Petunia’s care. The chest could only be opened if several conditions came to pass. I saw all of those things happen in my visions. That’s why I made them the condition for the chest to open.

1. - Vernon had to loose his job, and be unable to get another one.

2. - Vernon had to start drinking heavily and blame Duncan for all his misfortunes.

3. – Vernon believes Petunia and I were related by blood, so he blames her too. Their arguments get quite bad.

4. - Vernon finally reaches the point of no return and become violent, he always was, but never with Petunia or his son. He began beating his wife.

With those conditions fulfilled the chest opened and allowed Petunia to read her letters. I made my peace with her through them. I was really angry at first when I saw her abusing our son, but I had a long time to come to terms with that; and I know she finally understood me, Duncan, and the magical world. When the chest opened she was able to use the healing and pain potions I stored in it. My sister needed them at the moment, and so would her son and ours later on. There were also more things in the chest that a muggle could not use, for that a wizard was required. So I added another set of conditions for the letters and other objects to be removed.

1. - Vernon attacked Duncan and almost killed him. I saw this happening Severus. I am unfortunately a very accurate seer.

2. - Petunia and her son helped our son. I promised in a letter to help her escape Vernon, and the proof that she was repentant was this (I did not tell her, the fact that she did it on her own was proof enough that she is changing). They never lifted a finger to protect Duncan before that… that man started drinking.

3. – Duncan, my sister and her son were hurt, but not seriously, yet.

4. – I left a letter for Duncan, he must read it. I explained everything to him there and left some instructions so they can leave the house safely. I also told him how to remove the glamorie I put on him to disguise his true identity. He is too easily recognized, but looking as his real self no one will know who he is. I also found a nice arcane charm to hide that scar too.

5. - All three must be away from Privet Drive, and safe at the Leaky Cauldron in a room booked under the name of Duncan Evans.

6. - Hermione Granger must be in the same room as Duncan.

You might wonder what Miss Granger’s doing there. It’s a long story, and up to her to tell you, be KIND and POLITE to her. Believe me Sev; she will open up if you are. She’s in need of a safe place to stay and supportive people by her side, and Duncan needs her. She’s his closest friend, and will help him come to terms with all the changes in his life. It is also the other way around; she’s going through hard times and needs him.

As you can see, I made sure that the conditions I saw in my visions were fulfilled, so don’t doubt my words Sev. If I hadn’t gotten Duncan out of there Vernon would have killed him and probably Petunia and Dudley too. Knowing you, you still have doubts, ask Dumbledore he will confirm this, just don’t tell him where Duncan is yet. You need to talk to him to decide what you’re going to do. I did tell the Headmaster he is your son though.

Our son needs you Sev, he needs the support and love only a parent can give. I also know you need him too; you have been without family and people that care for you too long. No more Severus, you made a mistake in your youth. He told you and others so many lies… and you believed them in your attempt to please your father. You have repented enough, done enough, and risked your life enough. It’s time to allow yourself some happiness and love. Don’t reject your son and the chance to finally have the family you wanted.

You are probably thinking I’m barmy and have no knowledge of how things are fifteen years in the future, especially since I’ve been dead that long. Well, it’s true I don’t know all about Voldemort, his Mark or the war. But I saw enough to give you some pointers to what you will need to succeed, so consider carefully ALL my words.

You both are already in danger, keeping Duncan at arms length (or farther if I know you) won’t make him or you any safer, even without the glamorie. He is a pureblood and you know He wants all pureblooded families on his side. Voldemort will try to sway Duncan into his group, especially when word gets out that he is the heir of both the Evans and Connell families, and believe me it will become public knowledge. No one knows I was the first magical heir, so naturally He will believe Duncan was the first wizard born to the line in several generations, and will want to have him among his followers. Our son will never join him, and that means he will be targeted for death.

His resistance will draw the attention of those that are undecided which is good for the cause of the light. No, he doesn’t like the attention, from what I have seen he hates it with a passion. Believe it or not, he’s as private as you are, and actually very shy. He can’t be anything else with his background. But… he can’t help it Sev. Notoriety is part of his destiny, and he will have it whether he wants it or not. So you see, you have no excuse to keep your son away it won’t protect either of you.

The Wizarding world has placed a burden on his shoulders that would crumble grown men. He has been coping on his own to the best of his abilities, but he is only a boy, and sooner or later it will become too much. I’m not sure you know of the Prophesy Voldemort wanted, the one he only knew a bit and led him to kill us and his Death Eaters to drive the Longbottoms crazy. It is about the both of them, I won’t tell it complete, but in case you were not aware of it you may ask later either the Headmaster –he witnessed it- or Duncan to tell you.

The one to vanquish the Dark Lord was born as the seventh month ends; Duncan was born on July 31st minutes before midnight. The Longbottoms’ child was born the same day, although earlier. The Dark Lord would mark him as his equal, Duncan’s curse scar; this is what discards the Longbottoms’ child. One of them must die because neither can live while the other does. This is not the whole of it, but you see why he needs you?

Duncan is destined to kill Voldemort, I know you don’t have any faith in prophesies, but much of this one has already come to pass by the time you read this letter. I REFUSE to believe that evil monster will kill our son. I have seen his future and there is more than a chance that he will be victorious. But he can’t do it alone Sev. Headmaster Dumbledore has wasted too much time. He loves our son dearly. I have no doubt of that. He delayed because he wanted him to enjoy a childhood my sister’s family made sure he never had.

Severus, Duncan needs to be trained, and only you as his father can demand and insure that he get the training he needs. I am no longer there to protect him and see to his interests, I can only hope that you will do so in my place. Harry James Potter no longer exists, he never really did, and the moment he took off the glamorie even his magical signature changed. In his place there is only Duncan our son.

He inherited the Snape’s magic, that mixture between human and vampyr magic that has been running through your family bloodline for centuries. He also inherited the Evans-Connell power (I later learned that there were some vampyri in my family tree, not just yours though they were not enough to turn any of our descendants). Which as you well know was concentrated because of so many generations without magic. He is one the heirs of Godric Gryffindor, just as he is one of Salazar Slytherin’s (from both your line and mine. More than that maniac can claim).

Contrary to popular belief, there has never been only one heir of the founders. Salazar Slytherin for example never married, and has no recorded bastard offspring. His heirs were the children of his many siblings, and I found a vague mention that he might have taken care of a few orphans but none were his flesh and blood.

You see Sev; it wasn’t only my love that saved Duncan, though it was necessary for my plan to work. I was going to die; I knew that for some time, saw it in a couple of visions, so I was forewarned and was able to prepare for the event. What saved our son was a combination of the things I did in advance and something that I did that Halloween night.

First, I forced Duncan into his full power on October 24th. I know that it should have come naturally to him when he reached adulthood, but in order to live he needed it then. There were several books in my family’s vaults that had the information I needed for that and the rest. Second, I called onto our bloodlines strengths. I know what you’re thinking: ‘Foolish Gryffindor! Didn’t she know better than to even try? Didn’t she LEARN anything from MY experience?’ Believe it or not I did Severus.

I knew it was dangerous and something very few ever attempt and are successful at. You were, and so was I on Duncan’s behalf. Don’t Forget I knew of the Prophesy and that our child would be chosen. The bloodlines rite brought forth the vampyr survival instinct, but without the bloodlust as the amount of vampyr blood running through our veins is too diluted. Duncan is still fully human, just as you are. You know ‘Avada Kedavra’ does not affect a vampyr or one that has called forth all their vampyri ancestry to them. Also once the rite is performed the strengths gained remain. I managed to do all this in the days before Voldemort’s attack; I can be sneaky even with James at home. The last part required to be performed an hour or less before I died.

As I said, there was no way I could survive a confrontation against Voldemort. So while he dueled against James, I had the time to cast the third and final spell on myself. It made sure that my magic would not be lost when He killed me. Instead my magic went to Duncan, enhancing what I had already set loose. My love and my sacrifice ensured that he would be protected later on, and able to retaliate with something that Voldemort did not comprehend, love. He survived the killing curse by absorbing it, and in instinctual defense his own magic, along with my own, lashed against his attacker with love and Voldemort’s own curse. That maniac literally did not know what hit him. If our son had been older and trained that would have indeed been his end.

Duncan would have died too that Halloween night, had I not done what I did. So please, please don’t blame him for surviving while I did not. You’re prone to do that, don’t deny it. It was my time to go Severus. Understand that it was important to me that he lived; no parent in his or her right mind (your father doesn’t count) wants to see their children die. I believe that now that you know about him, you’ll be able to understand what I mean.

You are an extremely powerful wizard Sev, although you rarely let people know just how much you are, very Slytherin of you. You are a Master at wandless magic, have been since before you left Hogwarts, even if you keep that a secret. I cannot think of anyone better to train Duncan. You might believe he has no potential, but remember how adept Duncan was when he was little. All that power I have told you about was unconsciously locked away because of his upbringing, so now he can only access a small part of it.

At a young age he learned magic was bad. He was told it did not exist, and was denied his heritage, mostly by Vernon, although Petunia is not free of guilt. When we, in the Wizarding world, would praise him and encourage him for doing magic, he was instead starved and punished severely for using it. He was too young to understand what he did, and after being told repeatedly that it was bad and abnormal he believed it. He still does to a degree.

To bring his power out he will need you to be patient (yes, I KNOW you’ve never been a patient man, but I also know you can do it), gentle (YES you can be gentle when you want to, don’t deny it. You even rocked him and SANG him lullabies when he was restless) and understanding (again YES, you can be that too when you set your mind to it). He needs to trust you and harsh words will never earn you his trust. He already has had enough of those from Vernon to last him a few lifetimes.

Take the time to get to know your son with an open mind and heart Severus, and let him get to know you. Believe me you will be pleasantly surprised. You both deserve happiness. This is your chance at your own family, you had that dream secreted in the farthest corner of your heart when I was still alive, don’t let it pass you by.

There is not much more I can say on this letter, but I believe you are going to have many questions. For that reason I sent you a journal; it has a part of my consciousness. Just write on it and I shall respond. It was the best I could do to keep in contact with you. Duncan has a larger one; he will let you use it.

I must leave you now, but just in case you want to see your son before you approach him, go to Gringotts in the morning. He, Miss Granger, Petunia and her son are going to be with Cavedweller (if I remember well he also handles your financial affairs). I left instructions about my vaults with him, then I sent them shopping for necessities.

Love

Lily

P.S. I know you always complained about this. But I can’t seem to write a letter without having to add extra bits at the end that I forgot to include in the body of my letters.

My nephew is a wizard, ironic isn’t it, when his father hates magic so much?

Dudley would have attended Hogwarts at the same time as Duncan, but I blocked his magic. Vernon would have killed them if he knew his son was one of us. The block should be gone now, but if it’s still in place you will need to perform the spell to remove it. In Duncan’s letter there is a list of helpful spells, charms curses and hexes. The counter-spell is there. Duncan is not yet strong enough to perform it, but you are.

My nephew needs to learn what he should have learned since he was eleven. I wrote a letter to Remus asking him if he would assist him with that. I’m not sure Dudley will be ready to be a sixth year student at Hogwarts come September 1st, even with the ‘pearly’ potion (remember you created this one for me?). But I hope you can give Remus a hand, he did well in potions at school, but it was never his forte. Remus is not a bad person Sev and Sirius prank hurt him as much as it did you. Try to find it in your heart to forgive him; he might become a good friend.

Severus just sat there watching the fire for long hours pondering what he had learned, a part of him wanted to dismiss everything; it was too much of an effort to make a readjustment of his established beliefs and opinions. Ignoring Lily’s letter was really a temptation, life would be simpler, but he knew he could not. Even now he was curious to know how his… son looked like. Was he a carbon copy of himself? Merlin he hoped not! One ugly Snape in the world was enough. Was he more like Lily? Or was he a mixture of the both of them?

He ended re-reading the letter at least three more times, almost committing it to memory. He then analyzed it in as many ways as he could until he reached the conclusion that it was indeed the truth. He could never go back to his ignorant bliss, not even if he obliviated himself; and it was an extremely tempting option at the moment. But Dumbledore, Lupin, or worse, the boy himself would remind him that he had a son, and it happened to be the-bloody-boy-who-lived.

He had to give credit to his Lily. She had displayed some of her Slytherin traits in that letter by refraining to address the boy by the name he knew him. She had done her best to disassociate their… son from the ‘supposed’ son of his arch nemesis, James Potter. He would not have been able to see past the reminder of her husband, if she had called him Harry. All this time he had accused the boy of being like Potter, of having inherited his father’s traits. But the boy was not related to Potter at all; and he could not possibly remember the man to try to mold himself after James. Had he really been that blind to only see James Potter?

Going through his memories of the ‘Gryffindor’s-Golden-Boy’ as objectively as he could –and it was no small feat with how much he hated James- a young person that was almost the complete opposite of his arch-nemesis began to unfold. Harry… no, Duncan –he was more comfortable calling him that- was actually a very quiet and private boy. He was rarely the first to speak to an adult and with one exception –his ‘greasy git’ of a potions Professor- was extremely polite to his elders.

Most of the staff had initially complained that the boy was smarter and magically stronger than he let on, and they could not understand why he restrained himself only doing better than the Weasley boy on occasions. Pot… Duncan –damn it- was rarely the one to start a fight, an argument or a prank. It was Weasley who did it, on his own, or in retaliation to Mr. Malfoy’s taunts. Of course he could be aggressive or disrespectful, but it was only after being goaded mercilessly, when one of his friends was unjustly punished or attacked and when either James or the mutt were `slandered’. He worshipped them, but Severus had to admit the boy didn’t know better. Everyone painted those two bastards like saints for him. No one really knew those two were cruel bullies.

The signs of neglect were also there for those who knew what to look for to see. But he had to agree Duncan hid them well from untrained eyes. Why hadn’t he noticed? He’d seen his share of troubled children in his years as a Professor, but then Minerva, Albus, Filius, and Serena (Sprout) had too. Spotting that kind of child was almost second nature to him; hell he came from an abusive home himself! And now his… son had gone through a bad and possibly painful childhood too.

When he was younger and still allowed himself hopes and dreams, he had wanted children –preferably Lily’s- and he had vowed to himself not to be like his father. He would be loving, kind and would not beat them, or tell them they were useless or a disgrace. In other words he swore to never be cruel to them. Oh how the fates and Gods most be laughing at him now! Because he had done everything in his power to be as cruel as he could to one Harry Potter. He made the boy’s life as miserable as possible; only to find out this boy was his son.

Did he have the guts to face Duncan? Would his son want to see him or even admit they were related? More to the point would he –Severus- be willing to recognize the boy and try to be a father? Could he? He was at a loss because for the first time in years he had no clear idea of what to do.

No, obliviation was not an option, he owed Lily that much. Severus would not tell Dumbledore where to find… Potter as she requested, and he would talk to the boy. He would go to Gringotts in the morning and observe from a distance. Depending on what he saw he would decide when to approach him.

Severus would wait to tell Albus his son’s whereabouts until he knew where the both of them stood. He would pretend ignorance and wait for the Headmaster’s summons. If Po… Duncan had run away from Privet Drive, then the Order would be out looking for him, and sooner or later they would contact him. Albus was sure to want him on the lookout for the boy once they realized they could not find him by normal means. With Harry no longer looking like James Potter’s carbon copy and no one knowing what his real appearance was like the boy would be very hard to find. He doubted that Dumbledore would reveal the child’s true parentage to the Order members, at least not without his permission.

Only the old coot knew Severus had performed the ‘Bloodlines Rite’ and he had his full vampyr senses despite being completely human; unlike the werewolf, who had only half of his wolf senses while human. On more than one occasion the Potions Master had been sent to track their missing people, or even escaped prisoners. If what Lily wrote was to be believed, Duncan Evans would not smell or feel -magically speaking- the same as Harry Potter, perhaps slightly similar, since Lily was the common link, but not enough to assure them of his identity. Not enough for him to have a good lead if he ‘forgot’ about his connection to the child. This could be a good excuse to delay finding Duncan until he knew what they were going to do.

He supposed the Headmaster would be aware of the change, but that really wasn’t a guarantee. She had not told him if she had informed Albus of the glamorie Duncan had been wearing since he was born. It did not give him enough information to plan a better excuse, and since the Headmaster was always so cryptic it was better to assume that she did inform the old man. The only proof would be the scar, and according to Lily, she had found a way to hide it. She never did things by halves, so he must assume that the charm used was not easily countered or detected.

After a whole sleepless night Severus stood from his chair and went to get ready for a day of spying. He would go to Diagon Alley and observe his son. Perhaps that would give him a clue about how to deal with the situation and how to best approach the boy. It would also give him time to adjust to the idea that he had a son, and that he was also Lily’s child. He had adored Duncan when he was little, and pushed those feelings to the farthest and most obscure corner of his being after Lily died. The Potions Master knew the feelings were still there, that was why he kept protecting the boy. If Duncan was willing to forgive, and at least be on speaking terms with him, then perhaps he could let some of those feelings come to the surface again.