It was nearly midnight on the thirtieth of July. In two minutes, Harry Potter would be fifteen. The boy in question was sitting on his shabby bed in the smallest bedroom of number four, Privet Drive, staring at a repaired alarm clock. As the clock changed from twelve fifty-eight to fifty-nine, the boy watched the red glowing numbers count down, never happier to see a year gone. It had been an awful year. Harry absently rubbed at the scar on his arm, wishing he could change the past, that he could have done something, anything, to prevent Voldemort's return and Cedric Diggory's death.

It had been just over a month since the ordeal in the graveyard, and Harry had still not recovered. Every night, he woke, visions of a dead boy or a crazed, eerily snake-like Voldemort, tormenting him. He would wake feeling the knife slicing through his skin and the ropes digging into his flesh, keeping him bound to the gravestone. Harry shuddered as the clock ticked to midnight.

“Happy Birthday, Harry,” he murmured. Never feeling more alone than he did at that very moment, Harry sighed. Deciding to attempt to sleep, he rolled away from the glowing clock.

Just as Harry's eyelids closed, he heard a tinkling sound, a soft musical chiming – like a music box. Harry glanced over his shoulder toward the clock. There, on the corner of the desk, was a decorated box. It was opened revealing two tiny figures turning in a circle to the music. Curious, Harry sat up and put his glasses on to get a better look. It was most definitely a music box, playing a vaguely familiar tune. It was a lovely thing, heart-shaped and made of porcelain with painted flowers and gold gilding decorating it. The figures were a man and a woman, intricately carved and embracing as they danced. The man had black, shoulder length hair, and he was smiling lovingly down at his pretty companion. She had long, flowing auburn hair, and she smiled adoringly back. It was quite beautiful, something given to the one you loved.

Harry wanted to pick it up and examine it more closely. But he didn't dare to touch it, remembering the port-key that had whisked him away from Hogwarts not long ago. He just sat and watched the couple turn round and round. Listening to the song, Harry began to sing softly, though he could not fathom how he knew the words…

“Catch a falling star, and put it in your pocket; save it for a rainy day…”

As the words came to him, images began to play before Harry's eyes. Memories, but not his own, someone else's…

A young couple danced upon a polished floor, eyes only for each other, melting; they faded to another place – a young mother holding her crying infant, singing softly as a tiny music box played in the background – a man with black eyes and a hooked nose, smiling as he held a baby close to his chest, his deep voice singing the very same tune. The images were just fleeting glimpses, passing before his eyes too quickly to grasp, until everything solidified and Harry found himself looking at a young man with dark hair and a hooked nose. The man was pacing in front of a young woman with red hair and bright green eyes. His body tensed as he struggled to keep his anger at bay.

“How did this happen, Lily?”

“I don't know, Severus,” the girl sobbed. “I told them we were already married, my love. But the Headmaster, he wouldn't listen!”

The man snarled, his fangs clearly displayed, “You are my WIFE, my MATE.” He reached out and touched the girl’s belly lovingly. “This is my child,” he whispered. “They cannot do this!” His pain was clearly visible on his face.

Lily fell into the man's arms, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Severus, they – they held me down and forced a potion down my throat. I tried to fight it – I did! The Headmaster performed some spell, I don't know what, but he said the baby would look like James! He said he was protecting the child from YOU, Severus, and from Voldemort. He kept mentioning a prophecy – and that the baby needed to be kept safe. He said you were not safe! Why would he say such things?”

Severus held Lily tightly, protectively. One hand carding through her long auburn locks, while the other held her close.

The images shifted to a place Harry did recognise as Albus Dumbledore's office. Snape stood before the large, ornate desk. His face a visage of anger, hands clenched at his sides in a white-knuckled fist. Lily sat in one of the guest chairs, tears falling from her large green eyes, anguish and misery clear for everyone to see. James sat beside Lily, concerned but determined, and Sirius and Remus stood behind the seated couple. Dumbledore sat imperiously behind his desk, looking over the tops of his moon-shaped spectacles. Harry had seen the Headmaster do this numerous times, but he had never seen those blue-eyes so cold and unfeeling.

“I refuse!” Snape shouted.

“It is done, Severus, and cannot be undone. The child will look exactly like James.”

“It is folly. No one will believe it,” the dark man spat.

“It is not. It is the perfect plan, Severus,” Dumbledore growled. “Do you not see that? The Prophecy says that a child born of those who have thrice defied Voldemort shall be the one to defeat him! James has not escaped Voldemort three times, you and Lily HAVE! This is the perfect disguise for the child!”

“And what of Frank and Alice Longbottom?” Lily asked. “Are we to stand back and watch as their child is sacrificed – do nothing?”

“For the greater good, yes,” Dumbledore answered. “I am positive that Lily's child is the prophesised child. The baby must be protected at all costs.”

“That is cruel, Albus,” James said quietly.

“We are at war, James, and sacrifices must be made. Frank and Alice are young; they can have another child, if they survive.”

“What of me, Dumbledore?” Snape snarled. “Lily is my mate! That child is mine. I cannot nor will I stand by and watch you hand them over to Potter! I cannot nor will I stand by and watch you tear apart MY family.”

“You can, and you will, Severus! If you do not cooperate, I shall be forced to take drastic measures to see to it that you do. It would be unfortunate if Voldemort discovered your secret, would it not?”

Remus and Lily both gasped at Dumbledore's threat, openly shocked that the Headmaster would do such a thing.

“I say, tell Voldemort and be done with him!” Sirius spat nastily.

“Sirius!” Remus exclaimed.

Snape turned toward Sirius, his eyes sparkling with rage. “Why are you even here, Black?” he growled.

“I'm the godfather!” Sirius sang happily, his face set with a look of pure hatred.

“Absolutely not!” yelled Snape. “I refuse to have you anywhere near my son!”

“Better me than a Death Eater!” Sirius hollered back.

“Gentlemen, PLEASE!” Dumbledore stood, and his magic flared around him as he glared at the two men. “I have had more than enough of your childish arguments. Severus, you will comply with my wishes or face the consequences,” Dumbledore said, his attention on the dark man. “What's done is done. The ruse has begun, and with luck, the child shall be safe to grow-up and fulfil his destiny. If I find that any of you,” Dumbledore carefully looked at each of them, “have done anything to upset my plan, you shall face my wrath.” Dumbledore sat back down. “Now get out.”

Harry was shocked as he watched the group leave and the memory again swirl and turn, while the tiny couple continued to dance. He had never seen Dumbledore act so callously! Before he had time to consider what he had just seen, he found himself in yet another memory.

“Were you there as they poisoned her?” Snape accused as he pinned James with his eyes. “Were you the one to pour the potion down her throat as your two lackeys held her down?”

“NO!” James gasped. “I would never do such a thing, Snape!”

“Please, Severus, sit down,” Lily begged. “I told you it was Mad-eye and the Prewitts. We need to calm down and think rationally.”

Snape, however, continued to pace before a large hearth. Lily was sitting on a sofa, James and Remus were stood on either side, and Sirius was skulking in a corner, watching. They appeared to be in a cosy sitting room. Harry did not recognise the place and wondered briefly if it was Godric's Hollow.

“I agree with Lily,” Remus said quietly, as he sat down beside the girl. “We need to consider things carefully. I, for one, never would have thought the Headmaster capable of such – deceit.”

Snape spun around to face Remus, “Why ever not, Lupin?! The man did, after all, condone attempted murder and then cover it up!”

“Oh, please, Snivellus,” Sirius chided as he pushed off of the wall and stalked across the room, “Surely you aren't going to bring that old business up again?” Sirius stopped beside James, matching Snape glare for glare.

“It must warm your mother's heart, Black, to know that you are capable of cold blooded murder,” Snape snarled.

Sirius shrugged nonplussed. “It was a joke, Snivelly…”

“Indeed,” Snape cut off Sirius, eyebrow raised, and he looked down his long nose at the other man, “murder is such an entertaining and harmless idea for a prank.”

“If you could have kept your very large and greasy nose out of other people's business, you would not have taken the bait!”

“Stop!” James reached out and placed a hand on Sirius' arm. “This is getting us nowhere.” James sat down heavily in a winged-backed chair beside the hearth. Sirius looked about to protest, but glares from Remus and Lily stopped him. He angrily flung himself beside Remus on the sofa, pouting.

Snape remained standing, fists clenched in anger.

For many moments, the small group was quiet. Finally, James spoke, breaking the silence. “Have you found the counter to the potion Albus gave Lily?” he asked.

Snape startled slightly and then his shoulder's sagged in defeat. He walked to the chair opposite James and sat wearily. “No,” he answered. “I do not know what he used or where he found it.” Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I believe only Moody knows. However, with his false eye and his skill at Occlumency, I cannot read him. The others were all Obliviated.”

“Minerva's memories have been altered as well,” Remus added. “I would not be surprised if she disapproved of Albus' plan.”

Snape nodded in agreement. “I am still searching, but have found nothing that permanently alters a foetus without changing the DNA. Due to the wording of the Prophecy, Albus would not have wanted to change the child's parentage. Such an alteration would make the Prophecy moot. And so far, I have found no potion or spell that will only change an unborn child's features.”

“Do you know the entire Prophecy, Sev?” Lily asked.

“Yes. I wish I had not, but I heard the entire thing.” Severus looked sadly at his wife, “If I had known you were pregnant, I never would have agreed to Albus' plan at the time.”

“It's not your fault, love. How could you have known, when I didn't even know?” Lily rubbed the swell of her belly. Harry watched her raptly. She was very pregnant – with him. His eyes watered as he watched her hand gently stroke the contours of her burgeoning stomach. He realised that, for the first time, he was seeing his mother – his family, up close and personal. He wished he could touch her, speak to her. But he couldn't, and it broke Harry's heart.

“Can you tell us the entire Prophecy, Severus?” James asked.

Snape nodded grimly. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.”* Harry gasped. Did that truly mean him?! And if so, did that mean what he thought it did? Would he have to kill or be killed?!

Severus sighed, rubbing at his eyes wearily. “Albus convinced me to give the Dark Lord only the first half of the Prophecy. Voldemort knows only that a child with the power to defeat him will be born at the end of July to parents who have thrice defied him.” He looked solemnly at the group before him. “I believe he will attempt to go after the Longbottoms when he discovers they are expecting.”

“I still don't understand why Albus felt he had to go to such lengths to protect Lily’s and your child, Severus,” Remus said. “Only a few people even knew you two were married, let alone expecting!”

“Who knows, Moony?” Sirius intoned, slouching down against the cushions as he leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Albus strongly believes that Lily's baby is the one mentioned in the Prophecy, and he appears to be going to any measure to be sure that Voldemort won't.”

“His plan is teetering on the precipice of failure,” Snape groused. “There is too much that could go wrong.”

“I agree,” James said bitterly. “He Obliviated Cassandra and shipped her off to France!”

Lily looked at James sympathetically. “I am sorry, James.”

“It's not your fault, Lily. Albus has ruined all our lives.”

The memory swirled again. Harry had been so engrossed that the sudden shift made him feel nauseous. He could hardly believe the things he was seeing and hearing. Was this some sort of joke? Were these actual memories, or were they made up? If these events were to be believed, then he was not James Potter's son. Harry could not even consider the fact that it would mean he was Snape's son. It was simply too awful to even think about. He watched the images fade as a young couple danced on, slowly going somewhere else...

“Albus’ plan has failed,” Snape said as he knelt beside a stroller, peaking in at the sleeping infant. Snape smiled at the baby as the tips of his fingers lightly caressed the soft skin. “James’ escape from Voldemort in January marks Harry as one of the infants from the Prophecy.” Snape stood and looked deeply into Lily’s eyes.

“Tonight, Lily. I will come for you and Harry tonight. We will go far away, somewhere they cannot find us.”

The couple was standing in a garden of some sort, perhaps a park. Harry couldn't tell. Lily was pushing a stroller back and forth in front of her, gently rocking the sleeping baby.

“We'll be ready, Severus,” she told the man. She reached out and grasped his arm, her voice full of concern. “It's been weeks, love, do you need to feed?” Severus nodded and turned, embracing Lily. She dutifully tilted her head exposing her neck. Harry watched in horror as his most hated professor's teeth elongated, and he sank his fangs into his mother's neck.

“Stupify!” Albus Dumbledore walked into the clearing. “A vampire is never more vulnerable than when they are feeding,” he said calmly as Snape sank to the ground and Lily screamed in surprise. “Go home, Lily,” he demanded, his blue eyes cold and calculating.

Frightened by the power that suddenly radiated from the Headmaster, Lily gripped the stroller and ran along the path. Quickly, she slipped behind a large oak and watched Dumbledore.

The elderly wizard stood over Snape's prone body. “I had hoped it would not come to this, my boy,” he said as he waved his wand over Snape. Ropes sprung from the end of Dumbledore's wand, wrapping tightly around the Potions master. Dumbledore stood for a moment, looking down at Snape, his expression determined and hard. “Ennervate,” Dumbledore said.

Snape's eyes immediately snapped open, and he struggled against his bonds. Harry had never seen his professor so angry before. Snape snarled and writhed, his fangs displayed, sharp and dangerous. His lips were tinged with blood, making him look like a wild animal.

“It is no use fighting, Severus,” Dumbledore told the man. “You brought this upon yourself, after all.” Snape growled. The sound scared Harry, it was so inhuman.

Unfazed, Dumbledore knelt down beside the struggling man. “I did warn you, my boy. Obliviate!” A white light shot out of Dumbledore's wand, striking Snape between his eyes. The vampire's eyes turned glassy and unseeing. Harry heard Lily gasp softly, and he looked at her, confused for a moment. Then he watched his mother, her face full of fear as she took hold of the carriage and ran in the opposite direction.

The images faded once more and Harry, again, was left staring at the tiny figures turning round and round. Harry watched them for a moment. His mind unable to grasp all that he had seen. It was then that he noticed, tucked into the music box, the corner of what appeared to be paper. Carefully, Harry tugged at it until it came loose from the box. It was two tightly folded bits of parchment. Harry smoothed out the wrinkles as best he could. The first was a note:

Harry,

If you a reading this, then my fears have come true, and Albus Dumbledore has used a memory charm on myself, Severus, James, Sirius and Remus. I am sorry, my darling baby boy, I fear I don't have much time to explain. I am placing my memories in the music box. I hope that the box will come to you on your fifteenth birthday. If it does, keep it safe, and go to Severus! I love you!

Harry looked bewildered for a moment before he read at the second page. It was a birth certificate. His…

“Well – shit!” he exclaimed.

Meanwhile, many miles away, in a dingy sitting room, Severus Snape sat staring into the fire burning in the hearth of his home, humming a song he'd long ago forgotten…

“Catch a falling star, and put it in your pocket; never let it fade away…”

Memories flooded back. Long lost memories. His fangs burst through his gums as the images sprang back into his mind. My love, my wife, my mate, my child, my son. “Mine,” he growled lowly as he stood and headed for the door. That sanctimonious, meddling, self-righteous old man was going to pay for his crimes. But first, he was going to claim his child. Hopefully, the boy would forgive him.