A boy with messy black hair was playing with some colorful blocks that changed between displaying a letter and an animal whose name started with that letter. After stacking the blocks and knocking down the towers, the boy caught sight of his mum. She had long red hair tied back in pony tail and had just walked into the room with another man, who also had black hair that stood up at all angles. They parted ways after a long look at the entrance of the house, the door just closing.

The red-haired lady walked over to the boy, picked him up from the floor and sat with him on her lap in a rocking chair. But just as the tall, dark haired man started to sit down in a large over-stuffed chair, there was a loud bang at the door. The two adults were just able to exchange glances before a man walked through the doorway, wearing a large black cloak and hood that covered his face. The man from the chair stood and whipped out his wand from his cloak and stood defensively between the intruder and the woman and child.

“Lily, take Harry and go upstairs! I’ll hold him off as long as I can.”

Harry felt the fear grip him as tightly as his mum currently was, making her way up the stairs and closing the door on the scream that followed them up. She set Harry in his crib, a frantic look on her face which grew more prominent when the door slowly opened to reveal a horribly ugly man. His eyes were red and slanted, where a nose should have been, there was only a slit, and his skin was an unearthly white color, his head bearing not one hair.

“Please, please no,” Harry’s mum pleaded with the stranger.

“Step aside you silly girl.” The man’s voice was even more unnatural than his appearance.

“No, not Harry. Please, take me instead. Kill me instead.” But the man made no move to accept her offer.

“I think I’ll kill the both of you. Avada Kedavra.”

Harry gave out a startled cry as the room filled with a contrived green light, causing the small boy to close his eyes against its brightness.

“Now, Harry.” The deplorable monster turned his full attention to the boy in his crib, who recoiled as far as possible into the corner.

“Avada Kedavra” was said with as much contempt as anyone could imagine and Harry felt as though his head would split open, the pain radiating from his scar.

~*~*~*~

Severus Snape woke with a start, immediately regretting the sharp movements as his head began to throb with a new headache. In fact, his back and neck all began to throb and his legs were aching painfully. Damn. I need to stop marking essays so late in the evening. That was the reason for his headache at least. Each year, Severus was forced to teach a new bunch of dunderheads and each year, they never got any better. First years were always the worst and Severus would be senseless to expect anything more, but he remained optimistic, hoping that the third year’s final essays would yield more promising results than the constant whiny drabble likely of an eleven year old. However, it was not so as he foolishly decided to procrastinate correcting their essays until the last possible minute. And damn you, Albus for keeping me from finishing with your inane chatter that lasted too long without accomplishing anything. It felt good to blame someone else for his shortcomings, Severus decided as he began to stretch out his back and neck.

Severus glanced at the clock hanging beside the doorway to the den from where he was seated behind a hickory desk, the color of the wood matching his mood. Severus was not in a good mood, for he had only three hours of class before the weekend, the last of term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But in twenty minutes he had to teach his last class of the year- second year Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Usually these two houses wouldn’t be much of a problem, especially with Severus’ various reputations of being a vampire or bat Animagus and other such nonsense that increased the incredible amount of fear that he distilled within his students. That was the only way to get them to pay attention to the potions they were brewing as the majority of the students and many of the professors didn’t understand how volatile the ingredients were. If mixed properly, dried nettles, crushed snake fangs, stewed horned slugs and porcupine quills could create a cure for boils but if not, it could be an extremely unstable potion and cause boils if the porcupine quills were not added at the correct time. Severus knew this; he wasn’t Potions Master for nothing, and felt that the utmost level of discipline possible in his classroom was a must. However, in their ignorance, other professors continued to pester Severus about his teaching methods, mainly Minerva McGonagall.

With today being the last class of term and it being with the year that included the Weasley twins, Severus was not particularly looking forward to it. The twins were really quite good at potions but with their constant talking, and pranks against the Slytherins, Severus really had no choice but to persistently take points from Gryffindor.

It was with a heavy sigh that Severus made his way to the Potions classroom, Occluding his mind further to block the memories of the dream. The perfect beginning to an already perfect day.

~*~*~*~

The rest of the weekend passed without complaint from any of the residents of number four, Privet Drive. At least, not from someone who existed. For Harry did not exist to his relatives, not that he would voice his complaints about them anyway for fear of their swift and dire retribution. But it was not really the work that Harry minded; it was the manner in which he was ordered to work. However unlikely it would be that Harry could gain their approval, he nevertheless continued to try. And so it was without complaint that Harry worked outside all day once more.

Sunday night Harry was too tired to dream, although he did wake with a strange feeling. It was as though he did dream and was yet unable to remember anything about it, being left simply with a peculiar feeling. But even as Harry thought more on it, he could come to no conclusion.

Monday left Harry inside all day, dusting, shining, and polishing everything in sight for Aunt Petunia’s book club meeting on Wednesday. She was so particular that she hardly left Harry alone in a room to work in peace for more than five minutes. This was extremely frustrating for Harry who was trying to sort out the weird-dream feeling he experienced upon waking again that morning. Dudley was at school, the last week before the summer holidays began. This fact scarcely cheered Harry up, he was sad he was unable to attend school, yet still glad he wouldn’t see Dudley until after dinner. But staying home meant that Aunt Petunia had more time to keep him working, more time for Harry to wish someone would rescue him. But there is no other person, so just face the facts; you’re stuck here, alone…forever.

And so Tuesday came, but when Aunt Petunia went to wake Harry up, he was still gripped tightly within a dream. Just as she was going to reach out and shake him awake, Harry screamed, sitting upright a second later. With a hand pressed over her racing heart, Harry’s aunt informed him he would be mowing the lawn again today along with more jobs inside, so he’d better get a move on.

But Harry couldn’t concentrate on his work, causing the jobs to be done sloppily and with a third scolding from his Aunt Petunia, Harry was sent back outside to re-trim the hedge, “And make sure you do it properly.”

As he began to absentmindedly snip at the errant branches Harry’s mind wandered. He’d had that dream again, the one that left him with a funny feeling…a bad feeling. But Harry was more confused than anything. He remembered his mum holding him, being afraid of the fear that radiated from her, hitting him like a rogue wave in the sea. Harry just couldn’t understand; the next thing he remembered was being in a crib, looking through the bars, and seeing a blinding flash of green light that faded with the increasing pain in his head, right where his scar was.

But as hard as he tried, Harry was unable to come up with of an explanation and still the feeling of utter dread that had accompanied him since his waking would not leave.

~*~*~*~

Finally, I am able to have some time to myself, Severus sighed as he lowered himself into an over-large black leather chair in his quarters in front of a roaring fire. His last Potions class had passed quite normally or as normally as can be expected with the Weasley twins. There had been no major explosions and only one Gryffindor’s Potion had resulted in a zero for the day. But that did not mean that Professor Snape went easy on them by any means. Gryffindor suffered a loss of one hundred and twenty points and Severus was seriously considering taking points from Slytherin just to get them to pay attention. But, that would have resulted in the loss of the House Cup, which was currently displayed on a ledge behind Severus’ desk in his office, right next to the Quidditch Cup.

The end of the year feast was the same as always with Severus being forced into conversations with various other professors he did not like. However the evening was made considerably more tolerable by the decorum surrounding the students and staff. Slytherin green and silver banners hung from the ceiling and behind the staff table along with the general air of dejection that filled the Great Hall, kept Severus’ smirk in place throughout the entire night. However gloomy the other houses and professors may have felt, his Slytherins made up for it, being almost callous in their celebrations.

Severus did notice that one person did not seem overly bothered by the festivities as she sat through the evening with a polite smile on her usually cold face. While speaking to Professor Sinistra and desperately needing a way out of the conversation, Professor McGonagall thankfully intervened. With a gracious “thank you” spoken from his eyes, Severus gladly picked up the threads of a new conversation. She is too good at this…I must remind her of her decidedly Slytherin traits later. Minerva seemed pleasantly surprised at her house’s low ranking at the close of the year, but Severus figured that her smile was also due to his conduct today. No doubt she would boast about the number of points she “justifiably” took from Slytherin only to have them “unjustifiably” given back by Severus. He would then speak of how thick her precious lions were and how they unquestionably deserved every point they lost.

However, much to Severus’ surprise, that particular conversation never came. Instead, the entire staff became enthralled with the topic of Harry Potter, brought on by Severus’ supposed savior with one little question.

“Harry Potter is said to come to Hogwarts next term; I wonder if he’ll tryout for Quidditch in his second year?” Minerva asked casually.

Severus mentally cursed the Gryffindor Head of House. That is why she was smirking earlier…I defiantly do need to remind her of her pathetically obvious Slytherin traits soon.

“What kind of mischief do you think Harry Potter will get into this coming year?” Poppy Pomfrey asked from the other side of Severus.

“Oh, I can only imagine!” exclaimed Pomona Sprout with a plump hand placed on her chest and a chuckle escaping her mouth. Severus attempted not to imagine what mischief the little Potter brat would get into. No doubt he’d be exactly like his father, strutting around the castle like he owned the place, including the plate I’m eating off of, hexing into oblivion all those supposedly “below” him, demanding every one of us bend to his every will. Severus could see that Potter would likely be the biggest dunderhead of all. No information would be able to penetrate that thick skull of his, besides Quidditch, Severus supposed, scoffing. As if the bloody Boy-Who-Lived would need another reason to be the center of attention.

Severus could barely suppress a groan as the conversation continued on with the rather trivial subject of Harry Bloody Potter, as if the last five minutes of discussion did not cover enough of the little horror. Why even speculate about the trouble that the brat might cause? Havoc caused by that child was certainly inevitable; for he will be running amuck about the castle no doubt. But he can be sure that I will not let his unruliness stand, he will be disciplined and receive the consequences of his actions from me, unlike the rest of the staff, I’m sure.

Yet the conversation dragged on, changing slightly to the various aspects that accompany an eleven year old, but always surrounding Harry Potter.

As if I wanted to hear more about the insufferable brat. But there was no opportunity for Severus to escape the Great Hall to the peace and quiet of his quarters. And so he sat, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the festering talk surrounding the Bloody-Boy-Who-Was-Coming-To-Hogwarts next term. Although the end of the feast did not come soon enough, it did come, much to Severus’ relief with a final speech from the Headmaster. After which, he finally dismissed the students to their respective common rooms. Severus could not leave the Great Hall fast enough.

His long legs and larger stride allowed Severus to arrive in the dungeons at a considerably faster rate than any other in the castle. It wasn’t the first time that he was thankful for his height, allowing him to tower over students and professors alike as well as to move swiftly through the corridors. But Severus stood after sinking gratefully into the sofa in his quarters when he saw Dumbledore’s head floating in a sea of green flame in the fireplace.

“May I come through Severus?”

With a hesitated “Yes, sir,” mumbled through clenched teeth, Severus sank back into the comfortable cushions of the sofa.

Dumbledore did not waste any time in getting to the point, as he usually did, for the Headmaster knew that Severus despised small talk.

“What are your thoughts on Harry arriving at Hogwarts at the beginning of term?” Dumbledore was not totally able to suppress the look of amusement that crossed his wizened face at Severus’ equally shocked expression. It took a few more seconds than he would have liked to respond, but Severus was finally able to respond.

“And why does the arrival of one Mr. Potter take precedence over my thoughts, Albus?”

“I simply believed that due to your knowledge of Harry’s mother that you would be able and willing to introduce young Mr. Potter to the wizarding world in earnest.”

“Have his relatives not explained these things to him already?” Seriously, there is no way they couldn’t, really.

Dumbledore leaned forward, a saddened expression on his face, “Being Muggles, I don’t suspect his relatives fully understand our world either. It would be better coming from a wizard, who is able then to answer the questions Harry will undoubtedly have.”

Severus schooled his face into a scowl and sneered, “And why, pray tell, do you wish me to travel to the brat’s house. Surely you or Minerva would be better suited to deal with the insufferable being.”

At this, Dumbledore sat back into his chair with a heavy sigh. “Alas, I am detained on important business elsewhere as is Minerva. Therefore you are the most likely candidate due to your relationship with him.”

Shock and disgust flitted across Severus’ cold expression, taking up residence within the depths of his eyes, “I have no relation to that boy.”

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed, his reply setting Severus’ body on edge. “Have you read Lily’s journal, Severus?”

“How could I? Those were her private thoughts; I’ll not violate her memory in that way!” Severus all but yelled, fists clenched, attempting to control his rage. How dare he even suggest it!

“I believe it to be for the best if you-”

“You always believe things to be for the best, but they do not always turn out that way. Do they, Dumbledore?”

Giving the Headmaster a hard glare, the best he could summon in conjunction with attempting to contain his fury, Severus then continued in Dumbledore’s shocked silence, “And yet you remain optimistic that somehow the past will cease to have meaning and that the future can change so easily. I however refuse to believe that. The past remains and it does not change on a whim.”

Severus stiffly stood, looking down at Dumbledore’s still shocked face, his mouth beginning to curve downward into a frown. Standing, Dumbledore’s blue eyes began to twinkle again, shining with concern and understanding. Severus motioned towards the fireplace, intending for the Headmaster to floo back up to his quarters.

Dumbledore took one step and turned to face Severus, placing a weathered hand on his arm. “Think on my words, Severus. I do not doubt your memory will be swayed from its current perspective if you do indeed read Lily’s journal. But it will be better for all those concerned, my boy.”

Turning away after his words, with Severus’ fists relaxing and his knees buckling, Dumbledore made for the fireplace. Severus didn’t hear the rush of the Floo, or even see the blast of green flame. He simply sat, knees finally giving out, falling back into an over stuffed chair. Finally, I am able to have some time to myself. But not for long if what Albus says is true…but it can’t be true. Lily told me herself what had happened. Is he suggesting she lied?

~*~*~*~

Harry woke to the sound of a frying pan being slammed down onto the stove. He’d had the dream again, waking in the early morning to a silent scream and being unable to sleep in anything but the lightest sense of the term, he dozed into the later morning.

It was Wednesday which meant Aunt Petunia’s Book Club was meeting here later. Harry sighed, he hated these “Book Club Meetings,” Aunt Petunia invited all her friends over for dinner and tea to gossip. They never talked about books and Harry seriously doubted that any of them had even read a book in their lives. During the meetings, Harry was expected to stay in his cupboard, not make a sound, and pretend he didn’t exist. All things considered, it wasn’t too bad. It was the morning before of the meeting that was the worst.

As if on cue, Aunt Petunia knocked on Harry’s cupboard door, telling him to mind the breakfast. Harry could hear her footsteps on the stairs above her head, most likely to wake Uncle Vernon and Dudley. So Harry made his way into the kitchen, turning over the bacon and pulling out another frying pan and cracking open several eggs. Then he went to the counter and put two slices of bread into the toaster, moving past the refrigerator, Harry grabbed the butter, jam, milk, and orange juice and placed them on the table. By this time the eggs needed to be flipped so Harry returned to the stove. After Harry finished setting the table, the Dursleys arrived and sat down. Harry moved to serve them, setting the pan on the table with what was leftover.

Once Harry finished cleaning up what little mess he made from cooking, his relatives had finished stuffing their faces with breakfast. There was a little left that Aunt Petunia said none too nicely that Harry could eat if he finished cleaning the kitchen.

“Once you’re done in here clean the upstairs bathroom. It’s absolutely filthy and needs to be clean for my meeting tonight.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia” came Harry’s reply, delivered to the gleaming white floor. Because we don’t have another bathroom downstairs, so everyone is going to use the upstairs one. Why don’t you just tell me the truth…that you hate me because I’m a freak and want me to clean your bathroom. There’s no way you would let even one of your “friends” go upstairs without inviting them.

Half an hour later when Harry made his way upstairs to the bathroom, leaving a spotless kitchen behind him, he didn’t even look into the sitting room to see his aunt watching the telly, reading a magazine or spying on the neighbors. When he got there, Harry did have to agree with his aunt, the bathroom was really messy. Maybe I can spend all morning and afternoon here instead of doing something worse all day.

With this thought set firmly in place, Harry began to meticulously clean all the grime and hair away from the sink. Lifting a hand to swipe at his fringe covering his eyes, Harry looked into the mirror. Wow. His face had changed.

He was still pale, maybe even paler than the last time he looked at his reflection. His hair was longer, or perhaps just less messy. Upon further inspection, all the hair that would stick up at the back was lying flat on his head, black and silky soft. His nose had changed shape too, albeit not a lot. It was a tad smaller and thinner as well as his face, his cheeks angling sharply from his temples.

Harry didn’t realize how long he had been staring at his reflection when he heard someone on the steps. Scrambling to gather cleaning supplies, Harry attempted to look like he had been working the whole time. It was his Aunt Petunia, but rather than comment on the bit of progress Harry made or send him off on another job or even yell at him to speed up, she simply looked in, raised her eyebrows, and sniffed the cleaners. A few seconds later she turned from the doorway and went back downstairs.

Harry let out a rush of air from a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Wonder why she even came up here, if not to yell. Maybe she likes the smell of cleaner too much. I’ll bet that’s why she cleans the kitchen almost every day.

Laughing quietly at his joke, Harry got back to work in earnest. Finishing close to an hour later, he made his way quickly downstairs and locked the door to his cupboard quietly behind him. Soon Aunt Petunia’s friends would be arriving and Harry didn’t want to be in plain sight. So he lay down thinking about the dream. It was always the same dream, or parts of a dream that he could remember. Without acquiring any new insight to what it could mean, Harry began to puzzle over his appearance.

It must be because I’m a freak. But why am I changing now? What does it mean? What if I’m changing to look like my family? What if they couldn’t find me before because I looked different?...But that’s stupid. You’re a freak, Harry. A good for nothing freak, no one would want you to be in their family.

Harry then curled up on his side, trying to stop the sobs from coming. He never cried when Uncle Vernon hit him or when Dudley’s gang caught up with him, so why was he crying now? Harry swiped at the traitor tears that showed just how much he wanted to belong, not be a freak, and be loved as the door bell rang and his aunt’s first guest arrived.

~*~*~*~

Severus rubbed his potion-stained hands over his face, attempting to dispel the sleepiness from his eyes. It was Tuesday and he had successfully locked himself away in his potions lab, purposefully ignoring the knocks on his door and calls through the Floo. Severus simply needed time to think about the meaning behind Dumbledore’s words. How can I simply throw out everything I’ve come to know about Lily and Potter, though? It’s not that easy, Albus.

Sighing through his now-steepled fingers, Severus came to a decision; he would read Lily’s journal, read but not act on anything yet. He stood and walked through a short hall to his bedroom. Settling himself on the edge of his bed, Severus reached into the nightstand and pulled out a slightly worn light honey-colored leather bound book. Holding back another sigh, Severus rubbed his hand over the cover with gentle fingers.

Many nights after being driven out of sleep from nightmares, Severus would reach down and extract this journal and stroke it just as he was. But, he never opened the cover. He simply couldn’t. I don’t want to change the way I think about you. But there was no way the Headmaster would stop beleaguering him and there was no way around this particular situation.

Hesitantly, with careful fingers, Severus opened the cover and began to read the first entry.

October 13, 1981

Finally, I’ve got a new journal to write down my thoughts! Took you long enough, Severus, I only asked you to pick me up one a week and a half ago! I guess I can’t be too harsh, not much has happened in the month since my last entry. I’ve secured a job at the Ministry as an alchemist and part time brewer at St. Mungos. Sev too has been accepted to teach at Hogwarts as Potions Professor. I’m really proud of him; he’s doing wonderful things in our lab here at home and I can’t wait to see his name in a potions journal again! I just know he can do it, especially since he’ll want to escape Dumbledore from time to time and will likely lock himself in his lab for days at a time. I just hope that someone reminds him to eat!

October 22, 1981

Dumbledore visited today. He said that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was gathering supporters with increased fervor. He wouldn’t say why but he said that he would be back in a few days to speak more. Hopefully then some of my questions will be answered.

October 23, 1981

Severus never returned last night. He left with Dumbledore. I don’t know where he is. Harry’s speaking really well now and keeps asking for “Daddy.” I can’t tell him I don’t know where he is and James is beginning to look worried. I wonder what’s keeping Severus.

October 24, 1981

Dumbledore returned today, but Severus wasn’t with him. He thinks You-Know-Who is going to try and fulfill the prophecy made about Harry. Sirius came over after James Floo-called him. We want him to be our Secret Keeper. Dumbledore thinks that’s the only way we can protect Harry. It’s very advanced magic and I’m glad we’ve got Dumbledore here to help us. I just hope it’s enough.

October 25, 1981

Severus came to visit today. I should have noticed right away that something was…off with him. He walked and moved with more purpose than usual…than necessary. He seemed in pain, but not a new pain. I doubt that James could tell, Severus was hiding it extremely well…but it took forever to get him alone. Even then he would refuse to talk about it…some accident…nothing to worry about… But I did worry…worried too much. I was holding his arm as he talked to me, convinced me that Albus was right; having the protection of the Fidelius Charm was the only option to protect Harry, protect me. But I was so scared, I was holding onto his arm, his left arm, too hard…saw him wince. An accident…bumped into the table at Spinner’s End…used a bruise salve this morning…not completely healed yet…nothing to worry about. But his expression was off, he looked frightened. Severus never had “accidents” he never bumped into things. But then it all made sense…he was branded with the Dark Mark…Severus was a Death Eater. He didn’t deny it of course, instead he tried to convince me of why he did it…to save Harry…to protect me…Albus needed someone on the other side…to spy…it was the only way. Lies, all of his excuses are lies. Or he would have told me it before. Why didn’t he tell me? I thought he loved, trusted me? But of course he didn’t tell me.

I bet he relishes his role as spy, able to keep all his secrets to himself. He’s been lying to all of us for an entire year…about everything. It hurt more than I would have expected, the wounds are still fresh even as I write this tonight. I was so angry, so furious with him for doing this to us! I wanted him to feel some of my pain, to know what he’s done to me. How could he do this? And, how could I let him stay with us, with Harry? He’s put in greater danger with his lies. So I spewed my own lies to him…Harry isn’t your son…we never used a glamour…he just looks like James. I wanted him to leave, needed him to leave, otherwise none of us would be safe. I have to keep Harry safe.

...how could Severus do this to us?

October 27, 1981

Dumbledore visited again today. He tried to convince me that Severus was telling the truth, that he became a Death Eater to help the Order. I don’t know if I believe him or ever will, not yet.

October 30, 1981

Sirius came by the house early this morning. He’s worried that he won’t be able to protect us as Secret Keeper. James agrees with me that he is the best one…but Sirius was adamant. He wants us to change Secret Keepers to Peter, to make him the one. We said we’d think about it.

October 31, 1981

I really do wish that Severus would come by Godric’s Hallow. I miss him. It’s impossible to think that he would have actually agreed to become a Death Eater, but if he truly did love me and Harry, then I guess it’s possible…it might be possible. I still don’t know, but I do know that I miss him. Harry’s still not the same without him here and James is becoming suspicious about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named showing up at any second. Albus keeps reminding us how important it is to stay in the house, wands close by. He keeps trying to talk to me about Severus, but what does it really matter? It’s not like he’s going to try and convince me of anything himself.

I just don’t know what to expect from anyone anymore, friend or foe…or an unidentified mixture of both.