“So I grow up with Malfoy, learning all sorts of cool stuff, training.. and then we go to Hogwarts, right?” Struck by a sudden horrifying thought, he said again, desperately, “Right?”
She chuckled and waved a hand at the puddle.
“Dad! Dad! Padfoot! Cissa!” “Mum! Sev! Sirius!” Draco and Harry exploded into the lounge, brandishing letters in their hands, interrupting the adults’ conversation. “Hogwarts!” “We got our letters!” “Sit down,” Narcissa said, patting the space next to her. “Quietly,” Severus added. “Let's see!” Sirius jumped up, not seeing Severus’ glare. “As if you don’t know what they say,” Harry said as he struggled playfully with Sirius, who was tugging on his letter to get a look himself. “Go on then,” Narcissa smiled indulgently, “read them.” Harry and Draco stood in front of their family proudly and recited the letters in unison. “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Sirius let out a whoop and hugged them both again. “We’ll go to Diagon Alley for your things tomorrow,” he said. “We shall,” Severus said softly, “but there are things we must discuss.” “What is there to talk about, Snape?” Sirius asked, still beaming. “They’re going to Hogwarts!” “Yes,” Snape replied. “Harry Snape is going to Hogwarts.” “Oh.” Sirius sank into the nearest chair. “Damn.” Draco and Harry looked at each other. “What do you mean, Dad?” Harry asked. “Draco’s coming, too.” “Yes, my dear,” Narcissa responded softly, “but Draco isn’t famous.” The boys sat, too. “Dobby,” Narcissa called, “prepare lunch. We will have it in the garden.” When they were all settled outside with a pumpkin juice apiece, Severus began. “We have managed, through the course of your life, Harry, to keep you fairly hidden from the world.” He held up a hand to stop Harry’s protests. “You from it, not it from you. I am proud to say that you are one of the most well-adjusted and educated children I have come across.” Harry looked at his him, stunned. This type of praise was rarely heard from his taciturn father. Draco elbowed him. “Uh, thanks, Dad.” “Be that as it may,” he continued, “you are different. In many ways. Here, we have aspired to give you the most normal upbringing and surroundings possible in the circumstances. But at school, this will not be the case. “The world is aware of the events surrounding Lily and James’ deaths, but they know nothing of the prophecy. They would not understand, therefore, why you have trained so hard. This we must keep secret, or people may draw conclusions that will be close to correct, and this will create too much unease. They will expect you to be powerful, but not nearly as much as you are.” He looked directly into Harry’s eyes seriously. “Be careful how much you reveal and to whom.” Harry nodded, just as seriously, resolute not to let his family down. Narcissa continued. “You are famous. People will flock to you, as you have seen from short visits into such circuses as Diagon Alley, and people will want to be with you, be seen with you and know every detail about you.” “And then there will be those,” Severus said, “who will covet your power, attempt to use it for their own ends, or seek protection.” “Or piss themselves whenever they see you.” “Oh, thank you Black, for summing up our point so effectively,” Severus drawled. “Well he even scares me, sometimes,” the Animagus muttered, drawing a startled gasp from his godson. “Really?” Harry asked, looking like a lost child. “You’re – afraid of me?” “No, Stripes,” he answered affectionately, “not of you. But your power is so great that I fear for you, often,” he finished quietly. “Don’t worry, Padfoot,” Harry said, climbing onto the man’s lap. “I’ll have Draco to look after me.” Draco straightened in his chair, ready to accept the mantle of being Harry’s Protector. “Yes, Draco,” said his mother. “You have a job to do, now. Use your own power – your Malfoy name and your place in society – to distract people from Harry.” The boys looked a little confused. “You’ll probably be together most of the time,” she explained, “so it is up to Draco to draw most of the attention onto himself and off Harry. When people see that Harry is quieter and less approachable than they thought, it will be easier to avoid them. They will know that if they want to get to Harry, they need to get through you first.” Harry grinned at his brother. “Good luck with that,” he said, arching an eyebrow at Draco’s small frame. “Not physically,” Severus corrected as Draco whacked Harry’s arm. “You have no need to be his bodyguard, Draco. He could protect the entire school single-handedly. Anyone truly wishing to be a friend will have to exert some effort to become friends with both of you, and by that test, we can assume they are in earnest.” “Be careful, Harry,” Siruis said gravely, a rarely-seen expression for him. “You must be on your guard. There will be many people who will try to be your friends for their own purposes, then they’ll drop you when it suits them. I don’t want to see you hurt.” “I’ll hex anyone who comes near him,” Draco growled. Harry looked askance at him. “Well, I do want some friends, you know,” he said. Draco looked abashed, but no less determined. “You must not push everyone away, but choose wisely, don’t rush anything. Your instincts are good, and your magical senses will warn you of ill-intent.” Narcissa concluded. “Keep up the public face we have taught you, and they will see you cannot be exploited.” “Yes, that is another matter,” Severus said darkly. “There are not only students at school. The caution with which you make friends is also important to use with the professors. Do not trust them simply because they are teaching you. They must earn trust and respect, from both of you. And the Headmaster… He is a good man, but he is also worthy of a Slytherin’s caution. He is adept at manipulation, and will alter a situation to his liking. Don’t let him do that with you, even for the smallest things. Only do something if you wish to do it for your own reasons. Do you understand?” “Yes, Dad,” Harry said solemly, not wishing to let his father down. Narcissa glanced at the men around the table before speaking, ready to defend her next point. “Whatever your housemates or the rest of your family say,” she began, “make friends in all houses.” She glared at Sirius and Severus when they began to argue. “All houses. This is important, boys,” she turned to them again. “You will be told otherwise, but there is merit in all traits, and not only those in your own group will prove useful.” Harry nodded again, trying to remember everything they were being told. Sirius broke his concentration by tickling him. “It will be tough for you two to stay together so easily, though.” “Why?” Harry asked, squirming on his lap. “Being in different houses will separate you quite a bit.” “Different houses?” Severus asked slowly. “What ever do you mean, Black?” “Well,” he said with a huge grin, “The distance between the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms is quite a walk, as you should remember Severus.” Furious, Severus stood. “No son of mine will be in Gryffindor!” he roared. The boys giggled as the old battle was resumed, with no less passion than its early days. Narcissa ignored them and began her lunch. “Nonsense!” Sirius crowed. “Harry’s a Lion if ever I saw one.” “Your eyesight certainly is going… We shall have to get you one of those Muggle seeing-eye dogs as a companion.” “There was a time you actually liked a Gryffindor, if I remember,” Sirius needled. “Why is Harry going to school at all?” Draco said thoughtfully, and the adults quieted their argument. “It’s not like he’ll learn anything new.” “There is plenty he will learn,” Narcissa answered. “It does not do for children to be in the same company forever. You will both make new friends, learn to live with the others in your House, work together, experience life through other people’s eyes. Even in your classes, there is value in learning from different instructors.” “And most importantly,” Sirius added, “you’ll play Quidditch!”
Harry laughed at Sirius, suddenly wishing the man was right there beside him. He missed his godfather fiercely, and stared at the fading image of him until it disappeared. His family.
A vague uneasy feeling crept into the back of his mind. This was all too good. There had to be something… Oh.
His stomach clenched. Being friends with Malfoy would probably mean… “Ron? Hermione?”
The water showed the corridor outside the Great Hall. Harry was striding confidently towards Ron, who was leaning against the wall, but straightened abruptly when he saw who approached. This was it, Harry thought. Here’s the catch. He wouldn’t be able to keep his best friends. They would hate each other.
“Snape.” “Weasley.” There was a pause, then, “Bloody hell, where’ve you been?” Ron Weasley exclaimed. “We were supposed to meet Hermione in the library,” an involuntary shudder gripped him, but he continued, “and work on History.” Harry Snape made a non-committal shrug, “Got held up. I’m sure you were able to distract Granger for a while.” “Yeah, yeah,” the redhead said quickly, halting the direction of that comment. “You coming now? Malfoy, too?” “Yeah, but later. He wants to do his Potions practical first.” “Great, he can help me with mine.” Harry snorted. “Good luck.”
So he was a Slytherin, he’d checked the colours on his robes. Quite logical, he realised, given how he had grown up. The Hat had originally wanted to put him there, and two Marauders in his family mustn’t have been a match for Snape and Malfoy.
But he could think about that later. He had a more pressing concern for the Fates to answer.
“So what’s the catch?” Harry said dryly.
“What do you mean, Harry?”
“Well, apart from my – the Potters dying and the prophecy, everything else seems to be perfect. My friends are still my friends, I have family that care for me, school is okay, no-one’s lying to me, I’m not treated like a house-elf, I know who I am and I’m being prepared for the inevitable. Where’s the catch?”
“You said it yourself, Harry. The prophecy.”
He didn’t understand. “But why are you offering me…”
“No Harry, you have it backwards. We made a mistake. Not you. You were always supposed to be the saviour of the Wizarding world, and we thought that was enough hardship to put onto one boy. The rest of your life was supposed to be as wonderful and carefree as anyone’s can possibly be.” She smiled at his quizzical look. “That’s the catch. The prophecy was supposed to be your only difficulty, but things got away from us.
“We’re merely explaining everything to you before we put things to rights. No-one who has that much responsibility on their shoulders or in their future should have to deal with a less-than-happy life as well. You should have family that love you, you should be trained for the final confrontation, you should know as much as you can to understand your position and your world.”
“So what happens now?”
“We turn back time, to make James and Lily tell Severus about you.”
“If you were going to do that all along, then why bother telling me about it?”
“It’s not as simple as all that, Harry. Going back this far, changing things to this magnitude is difficult. Any changes we make must be anchored onto something, or time will disintegrate. We chose you, your soul, as the pivot point. One’s soul lives forever, through time, even when time bends and when time reverses. It is complete in its existence.
“Not telling you would be disastrous. Souls are very powerful things, yours would have known it was being ripped from its current time and put in limbo until your birth again. It would have prevented us changing anything. We have to tell you, so your soul will accept our alterations.”
So, he would cease to be Harry Potter. “Harry Snape,” he said aloud, testing the sound of it. He just stopped himself from putting his hand out and miming an imaginary introduction: ‘Hi, I’m Harry Snape’. He coloured, looking at her sheepishly. She smiled.
“Harry Snape,” he said again, softly. It did not give him shudders like it would have only two days ago. Would he still be, well, him?
“No matter what your name is and who you grow up with,” Parcae said, “We are who we are. Nothing will change that. Details will be altered, but you’ll still be Harry.”
He wondered if he would miss his old life. There were plenty of reasons he would be happy to leave it behind, that was certain. Maybe there would be things wrong with his new life, too. Would it be a case of ‘better the devil you know’?
No. He had seen proof that his new life would be much better, for himself and everyone else. Knowing that, he just couldn’t return to the current one. All of the awful things would feel that much more wrong, if he were to ignore the Fates.
But he couldn’t help feeling like he was losing a part of himself. He thought of his two best friends, and everything they’d been through together. He couldn’t just ignore that.
“Will I have any memory of this life?”
She eyed him for a moment. “Very good, Harry.”
“Huh?”
“You recognise the importance of knowing. Certainly, ignorance is bliss, but how will you appreciate your second life if you have nothing to compare it to?” She nodded slowly. “You will remember, in a way.”
He’d had enough experience with wise old meddling eccentrics to tell he wouldn’t get a clearer answer than that. Still, he felt like he had to be certain that he wasn’t going to lose the connection he had with Ron and Hermione. Being in competing houses would create a very different dynamic between them.
“Can I see how we became friends? The four of us?”
Harry sat in the compartment by himself, mentally going over the things his father had told him. Draco was taking a little extra time talking to his mother, but Harry hated long goodbyes. He’d just held his father for a moment or two longer than he normally would have, and barely looked at Sirius, ducking to avoid the inevitable ruffle Sirius was prone to giving his hair in overly emotional moments. He hadn’t wanted to see the loss he knew would be in his godfather’s eyes. He wasn’t sure how he felt about finally going to school. Draco, as a Malfoy, had the pressures of his name and social standing to maintain, so his brother had always been off cavorting or whatnot, trained well by his mother in the art of being loved by all while getting exactly what one wanted. Harry, on the other hand, much preferred being by himself or with his family. His fame had multiplied this desire to be away from prying eyes, and the few times he went anywhere with Draco, he was able to put on a carefully cultivated mask that served him well. Most people were therefore put off by his cool manner or, in one memorable experience, scared absolutely witless by the power radiating from his eyes. Harry snorted. If he saw a boy famous for being powerful, he wouldn’t immediately pick on his friend, bragging about ‘whose father was at the top of the food-chain now’, and try to hex him. If Nott showed up at school, Harry would make sure he didn’t sneeze without permission. School was going to be new for him. Not the lessons, of course, there probably wasn’t a thing they taught that he couldn’t already do half-asleep. The problem would be getting used to other people, sharing a dorm. He hoped that he and Draco would be in the same house. And maybe Zabini. Blaise had always been interesting. The others they’d been forced to socialise with couldn’t see past the scar on his face. Through the window he saw a small group of redheads, evidently a family seeing off a few students onto the train. One poor boy was being subjected to the old spit-on-the-hanky face cleaning. Why the mother hadn’t used magic, he didn’t know. A few minutes later, the door to the compartment slid open, and the redheaded boy from the platform stuck his head in. A small fluffy owl was twittering on his shoulder, and there was still dirt on his nose. “D’you mind? Everywhere else is full.” Harry motioned for him to sit. The owl flew up onto the baggage rack. “I’m Ron, by the way, Ron Weasley.” “Harry Snape.” Weasley seemed to be unable to decide between awe, fear or excitement. “So, it’s true then? You really have the… the…” he getured towards his own unmarked forehead. God, Harry hated this part. But everyone thought they personally were perfectly within their rights to get a closer look, even if they agreed in principle that his privacy should be respected. Hiding his irritation, he realised he wasn’t going to make any friends by snubbing everyone he met. He held up his hair for a moment, then let it drop, clearly letting him know the subject was now closed. “What house do you think you’ll be in?” he asked, wanting to continue the conversation, but on a completely different track. “Gryffindor, I expect. All my brothers are in it - were in it, in the case of Bill and Charlie. They’ve left already. Bill was Head Boy, and Charlie was Quidditch captain,” he said, not in a gloating way, but in a tone that told Harry he felt quite a bit of pressure at having to follow in their footsteps. It made Harry feel a little more at ease. “Mum and Dad were both in Gryffindor, too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not,” Ron finished a little glumly. “What about you?” “Slytherin, most likely,” Harry answered. “given my family history. But I do have a fairly strong Gryffindor heritage, too, so you never know.” A loud bang signalled the door again, and two identical redheads bounded into the small carriage. “Do you mind?” Ron scowled at them. “Not really,” one of them answered cheerfully. “Don’t mind us,” the other addressed Harry, “we’re just checking up on little Ronniekins, here. First year and all.” He put out his hand, “I’m George, and that dashing man there is Fred.” George sqawked as the Gender-Bender Jinx (patent pending) he’d concealed in his hand didn’t do anything to Harry, but backfired onto him. Now sporting a very fashionable purple halter-top and matching skirt, he turned to his twin in astonishment. Ron howled in delight, clapping his hands and sending Harry a very thankful look. “Did you hold it the wrong way again, George?” Fred asked, searching in his pockets for the anti-jinx. “No,” George said, puzzled, the halter top looking ridiculous on his completely flat boy’s chest. “What happened?” He looked at the boy he’d meant to prank. One way of looking after Ronnie was to show any potential friends not to mess with the Weasleys. Pity Ron didn’t see it that way. Now he caught sight of the arched eyebrow and wry smile attatched to said boy, and tapped his twin on the shoulder. “Ah, Fred?” “What? Oh, here it is.” Fred asked, having located the anti-jinx. He pressed it onto the exposed skin of George’s arm. Nothing happened. “Fred,” George said insistently, still staring at the black-haired boy. Ron was in silent conniptions, barely able to breathe. Fred looked up and looked at the boy for the first time. “Fred. We just tried to prank Harry Snape.” “Ah.” Fred shot a look of disbelief at his younger brother. How in Merlin’s name did he manage to befriend Harry Snape within two minutes of boarding the train? They both seemed unable to decide which angle to take with this. Laugh it off and say he passed the test, he was allowed to be friends with their brother? Offer their unlimited service? Or apologise profusely and scamper out as quickly as humanly possible? Harry made the decision for them. “Ron?” he asked. “What do you think?” Ron knew this was just his twin brothers’ twisted way of looking out for him. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to let this spectacular opportunity pass. “I think Fred gets a matching set and they keep them for the train ride,” he answered, grinning. A moment later, Ron almost fell off his seat in mirth as Fred’s robes transformed into a similar outfit. In orange. Fred and George looked at each other and grinned. Wearing transfigured girls’ clothes was a small price to pay. They’d been through worse. As one, they knelt in front of Harry. “We pay homage to our superior in the art of pranking-” Fred began. “-and humbly wish to be forgiven-” “-that in time we may be allowed to witness yet more genius-” “-and possibly collaborate on future projects?” It was the first time that Harry had felt comfortable in the presence of someone in awe of him. He listened to his instincts. “Go now,” he intoned dramatically, “and think on your actions. Your penance will be a month without pranking your family, beginning today. When your time is served, you may approach me again.” He waved a regal hand, fighting to control his laughter. “Dismissed.” They rose and bowed again, George shooting Ron an ill-concealed thumbs up, and exited the compartment. Once the door was closed, Ron and Harry heard them whoop with excitement and run off. Ron caught his breath again and said, very seriously, “Thank you. Oh my God, thank you. Do you know what it’s like to live with them?” “I can guess,” he grinned. They both heard an explosion of squeals and cat-calls from another carriage further down, obviously the boys had returned to their friends. “So why orange and purple?” “Purple was the colour already in the jinx. I chose orange in deference to the greatest Quidditch team of all time.” Ron stared at him. “The Chudley Cannons?” he choked. Harry narrowed his eyes, ready to defend their losing streak for the duration of the ride. “Yes.” “I don’t believe it! I’ve been trying to convince everyone how great they are… You really support the Cannons?!” For the next twenty minutes, they extolled the virtues and discussed the merits of possibly the worst Quidditch team in British history. During a particularly animated description of a particular move their chasers had performed, the door to their compartment opened once more. Draco stood in the doorway, assessing the boy laughing with his brother. Then he rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve actually found another human being on the planet who thinks the Cannons are worth more than target practice.” “Don’t get me started on that, Draco,” Harry said playfully. “No, I can see you’ve been started already,” he smirked. He sat next to Harry with an air of granting the others permission to be in his presence. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” “Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley.” Draco saw Harry was willing to defend the boy and let it go. For now. “You support the Cannons? Damn, Harry, this disease is catching.” “Yeah,” Ron could tell he was teasing. “I’ve read everything ever written about them.” “Harry’s been to every game since we were seven,” Draco said. Harry saw the dejected look on the other boy’s face. “I’ve only seen one, and that was a favour from a friend who went. He gave me his ominoculars.” “We’ll go to the next game together,” Harry announced. He was beginning to get a feel for the Weasleys’ financial status. The three of them had outdated and well-loved robes. Add Draco’s reaction … Harry was willing to bet they literally lived on magic. “But, but…well…No,” he said, defiant and slightly offended. Damn. Apparently he didn’t know the difference between charity and generosity. “You’d better take the offer,” Draco said warningly. “He’s very stubborn about getting his way, and,” he held a hand to the side of his mouth, blocking it from Harry’s view and stage-whispered, “he’s never had anyone else obsessed enough to go with him.” Harry hit him then turned back to Ron. “Please?” he asked. Ron smiled. “Well, I suppose I could ask Dad.” “Cool.” A nervous-looking boy passed the slightly open door. Draco caught his eye and nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Longbottom.” The boy nodded in return. “Malfoy,” he squeaked, and hurried off. The owl chose that moment to declare his presence, nipping Ron on the ear and zooming about at an alarming speed. “That’s Pig, by the way. Happy little thing, isn’t he?” “Pig?” Harry asked, staring pointedly at the jittery owl. “‘Happy’ hardly covers it,” Draco snorted, his eyes following its manic flight path. “Fred and George gave me a spell to turn him yellow. Want to see?” “Sure.” Ron caught the little bird, cleared his throat, and was just pointing his wand when the door slid open yet again to reveal a bushy-haired girl. “Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one.” She barely waited for a response when she saw Ron’s wand out. “Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see then.” “Sunshine daisies, butter mellow, make this crazy owl turn yellow.” No-one was surprised when nothing happened. The girl looked unconvinced. “Are you sure that’s a real spell? Well, it’s not very good, is it?” She continued in a superior tone. “I’ve tried a few spells already, but they’ve all worked for me. For example…” She never got to dazzle them with her skill, as before her eyes, the hyperactive owl gave a squawk and turned a bright shade of yellow. There was silence for two seconds, then the boys burst into laughter. Roaring and rolling on the seats, they howled at her. “The look on your face!” Draco crowed. “Priceless!” Ron gaffawed. He’d spent an hour with Harry and had spent the whole time laughing. She looked rather put out. But it obviously didn’t deter her from poking her nose in. “I’m Hermione Granger.” She sat opposite Harry and Draco, but managed to put three feet between herself and Ron. “And you are?” “Ron Weasley,” he managed, with a mouthful of pastie. She looked vaguely repulsed as she said unconvincingly, “Pleasure.” She turned to Draco, an eyebrow raised. Draco was wearing his best public face when he said, “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” Granger giggled. “Shaken, not stirred?” They stared at her, wondering if the girl was sane. “Oh, really,” she huffed. “You’ve never seen James Bond?” “Never met the man,” Draco sniffed. “Does he work for the Ministry?” She snorted, a scornful look crossing her face. “As if a Muggle movie character would - actually,” she stopped. “You never really know, do you?” she said, mostly to herself. She shook her head, then looked expectantly at Harry. “Harry Snape.” “Are you really? I know all about you, of course.” “Oh, you do?” Draco crossed his arms. “How, exactly?” he asked coolly. “Honestly, don’t you lot read? He’s in ‘Modern Magical History’ and ‘The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts’ and ‘Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century’.” She wasn’t impressed, and stood to leave. “You three better get into your robes. I expect we’ll be arriving soon.” She turned, exiting the carriage. Just before she closed the door again, she said to Ron, “You’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way. Did you know? Just there.” As she tapped the side of her own nose, Harry gave her a farewell gesture by turning Pig purple with green spots.
Harry was grinning ear-to-ear when the images faded from view. He was so glad that his friendship with the other Gryffindors would be as similar as possible. He would have been devastated if he’d lost his two best friends, but he realised that he would have felt the loss of the entire Weasley family just as keenly. With that introduction, he felt confidant that he’d still receive a knitted jumper with his initial on it for Christmas in his first year.
And Neville hadn’t changed a bit.