Severus stalked through the cold empty corridors of Hogwarts, the torches magically casting an eerie dance of light and shadow on the stone walls. The massive solid oak doors of the main entrance creaked open as he approached. As he strode across the vast courtyard he heard the echoing, metallic boom as the doors slammed shut behind him.

The trek to the boathouse was not a short one for the Potions Master. Severus pulled his robes tighter around him in an effort to ward off the damp chill. The cool night air so early in September heralded the approach of an early Scottish winter—or he could simply have been imagining it. Severus could have simply been cold from fear of what he could discover in a few short moments.

As Severus approached the steep, winding stairs, the small structure of the glass boathouse came to view in the distance. He looked across the spectacular vista and was struck with a sense of Déjá vu. He remembered the night long ago when he and Lily crossed the Black Lake together and first laid eyes on the majestic castle. The lights of the ancient castle sparkled like diamonds on a black velvet drapery. The eleven-year-old Severus was struck breathless and Lily was equally awestruck.

Severus had heard the tales of the magical castle from his mother his entire life, but nothing had prepared him for the experience. Even at that young age, Severus felt the powerful magic emanating from the castle. It breathed magic like a living thing. The air seemed to vibrate with it as the tiny punts were magically drawn into the castle. It struck Severus like a bell, the moment he stepped off the small boat and into the castle. To this day, he still believed that the castle was sentient, acknowledging each magical child as they passed through her barriers. This was why the annual ritual of traversing the lake was always honoured, even in inclement weather. Fortunately, the benign giant squid that dwelled in the Black Lake was always nearby to return any inquisitive children to their boat that may have been unfortunate enough to fall over the side.

The sky had been clear for Harry's first trip across the lake, just as it had been the night Severus first arrived at Hogwarts. He remembered as he sat in that small punt, Lily had wound her fingers into his, seeking strength from him. It was one of Severus' happiest memories. In fact, it was the memory he used to conjure his Patronus.

That happy moment had been broken, however, when the moron, Sirius Black, pompously and erroneously proclaimed that the Black Lake had been named after his family. Ironic, considering how vehemently Black tried to deny his heritage as the years passed.

In reality, the Black Lake had been simply named because of its colour, a very dark, inky hue. Beneath the nearly constant layer of mist, the water seemed as still as obsidian glass.

Severus stopped half way down the stairs and gazed out across the expanse. He could not help but wonder about Harry's experience crossing the lake. Had Harry been spellbound by the magic, awestruck by the castles dangerous beauty—or had Petunia, who as a child had both coveted and loathed anything magical, manipulated the little boy into believing magic was evil and abnormal? The look of wonder on

Harry's face as he came through the Great Hall and saw the enchanted ceiling and floating candles, indicated to Severus that Tuney had not been successful in poisoning the boy's mind against magic. Severus had a deep, sinking feeling in his gut that Petunia Dursley tried very hard to quell Harry's magic.

When Severus finally reached the boathouse, he paused just outside the door. He could see the outline of Hagrid's hulking mass through the leaded glass. There was a flash of wand light, the loud clatter of something heavy crashing to the floor and then Hagrid's disgruntled muttering. Severus smirked. He would be willing to bet an entire month's salary that the grounds keeper was using his ridiculous pink flowered umbrella that obviously contained the bits of his broken wand, to magic the boats into their proper place.

The Potions Master had to admit the fact that Hagrid could perform any sort of magic at all with a broken wand and only three years of formal training was a testament to the half-giant's innate magical ability. Had his fate chosen a different course, Hagrid might have been a formidable wizard.

Severus pushed the boathouse door open slowly, allowing the slow creek to announce his presence. Hagrid had been using magic to secure the oars to the punts to the wall. Severus' intrusion had startled the half-giant and when Hagrid suddenly turned to see who had caught him, one of the little boats fell half-way off the wall and knocked Hagrid on the head. The boat's stern splintered into a hundred pieces, but Hagrid did no more than rub his head, as if he had only been hit by an annoying acorn falling from a tree.

"Pr'fessor Snape! I did'na see ya standin' there," Hagrid said nervously.

Severus supressed a smirk and waved his wand. The wooden shards of the punt gathered themselves back together and the boat settled into its proper hook on the wall.

"The headmaster told me I might find you here," Severus explained, tucking his ebony coloured wand into his equally dark hued robes.

"I was wonderin' if ya might come see me," Hagrid replied soberly as he gently placed his umbrella on a work bench. His great shoulders heaved with a sigh, as if grateful Severus had not called him out on his transgression. "Jus' was'na expectin' ya so soon."

Severus shoved his hands inside his cloak pockets to hide his nervous twitching. "Why would you be expecting me at all?"

Hagrid took a rope from off the wall and bent far over to pull the last punt into position on the dock. At least one boat had to remain on the water in case of emergency. "Well…when Dumbledore asked me ta deliver young Harry's Hogwarts letter, I was expectin' him ta look like James Potter. I was little takin' aback when I realised he didn't…but the tyke's face was still somehow familiar. Then it hit me when he walked into the Great Hall tonight."

"He looked like me," Severus answered dispassionately. He did not want Hagrid to see how much he had been affected.

Hagrid finished tying off the boat and stood to his full height. He placed his hands in the small of his back and stretched back. "Actually, he reminded me a bit of yer mum. But I made the connection, if ya know what I mean," he admitted. He gave a slight groan as he relieved the kinks in his back.

"Hagrid, I need you not to say a word to anyone about this. As it is, I'm not certain if it's true." It worried him that the half-giant already suspected so much. Hagrid was infamous for having a loose tongue when we was off his trolley.

"Can'na say it's anyone else's business, now isn'it?"

"No it isn't," Severus agreed with a sigh. "Hagrid, why did you have to hand deliver Mr Potter's letter?"

"For some reason, he was'n getting' them. Emptied out the Owlery, they did. Me an' Pr'fessor McGonagall were the only ones other than Dumbledore who knew where 'Arry was put into hidin', see. McGonagall was busy notifyin' the Muggle-borns so Dumbledore sent me."

Severus found himself somewhat reassured that Hagrid had managed to keep Harry's hiding place secret all of these years. Maybe he wouldn't have to Obliviate the gentle-giant.

"What happened when you delivered the letter?"

"Well, if truth be told, Pr'fessor, I don' think I handled the situation all so good," Hagrid admitted sheepishly.

Severus listened carefully as Hagrid told him of the night he barged into the hut the Dursleys had been camping in. Not taking into account his abnormal strength on the friable Muggle hut, the half-giant did a sight more than knock on the door—he knocked the door down. The fact that his intrusion happened at midnight when the entire family had been sleeping did not lend itself to harmonious introductions from the Dursleys.

Hagrid said he had been met by Vernon Dursley wielding a Muggle weapon. From the description he gave, Severus thought it might be a shotgun. This stuck him as odd, being that the Dursleys lived in the suburbs and from what little Severus recalled of Lily's description of Petunia's husband, he very much doubted Vernon Dursley was a sportsman. Legally acquiring such a weapon is a long and difficult process. Severus should know. His own father had applied for a firearms licence and been denied one on several occasions—thank Merlin. He wondered if Harry's uncle acquired the weapon via the illegal route and what would possess the man to take such a huge risk. Severus had to admit to himself, if he were a Muggle and any man barged into his home, much less a man the size of a small lorry, he would have met the threat with the most deadly weapon he could find too.

According to Hagrid, the Dursley's were on holiday when he managed to find them after the tracking spells had led him all across the countryside. The location made no sense to Severus. Why would anyone chose to holiday in a dilapidated shack on a rock in the middle of the Channel? From Hagrid's description, there weren't even proper beds for the boys to sleep in the cold and draughty hut.

Hagrid mentioned that Harry dressed in clothed that were oversized and unclean. Severus had seen Muggle youth dressed in such a manner on the streets of Cokeworth and in the markets of Manchester. He was certain it was the current generation's rebellion against authority. Well, if the boy began showing any signs of insolence or disrespect here at Hogwarts, Severus would see that they were jacked in quickly. Then Hagrid said something that greatly concerned Severus. In the heat of her diatribe, Petunia had called Lily a filthy slag. It was enough to make Severus want to Apparate to Surrey and hex the horse-faced shrew's tongue out right then.

"Then she called poor Harry a…," Hagrid hesitated. What little of his cheeks Severus could discern through the matted beard on Hagrid's face was red from righteous anger. "Well…I can'na repeat what she done said, and I should'n be held accountable fer what I did. Usin' that kinda language aroun' children," he added defensively.

"You have nothing to fear from me," Severus assured Hagrid coolly. "What did Hor...erm…Petunia, say to make you hex her?" Severus just managed to catch himself. He had nearly referred to Petunia as Horse-face. Proof that the habits of childhood were wont to die hard.

Hagrid seemed unsure as his beetle-like eyes darted about, looking to see if there was anyone else who might overhear. "She…she…." Hagrid swallowed hard before he rushed out his next words. "She called the little tyke the bastard of a freak."

Those words stung Severus to the quick. How many times had Petunia called him and Lily freaks? But to call Harry a bastard of a freak…did Petunia suspect something?

"Did you tell the headmaster of this?" Severus inquired. How much did Dumbledore know?

Hagrid scratched the back of his head and said sheepishly, "I was goin' ta, but Harry asked me ta let it pass. He didn't seem put-out by it. Said the whole family was scared of magic—tha' they tend to overreact sometimes, is all."

If Hagrid wasn't three times his size, Severus felt he might throttle him. The fact that Harry was blasé about Petunia's insults and her husband's tendency for violence disturbed Severus. Most considered Hagrid's naiveté as part of his charm, but for adult of the gamekeeper's age, such ingenuousness could prove to be a dangerous thing. Severus could not imagine the boy being so unmoved by the Dursley's behaviour if it wasn't a common occurrence. He wouldn't have a chance to speak to Harry's aunt and uncle until the weekend—not that he expected the full truth from Petunia and her husband. But what if the truth was unthinkable? How would Severus find out?

Severus' didn't think he could get anything else useful from Hagrid so he excused himself to leave. He stopped at the door when Hagrid called out to him.

"Pr'fessor. I'm not going to ask why. I know you ta be a good soul and you would never hurt Lily, thick as thieves you were here at Hogwarts… but do you really think that Harry could be yours?"

Severus took a moment to school his features before he turned again to the gamekeeper, "What do you think?" he asked dispassionately.

"I think you would'n be here unless you did."

Severus stalked away from the boathouse. Even if Hagrid miraculously managed to keep his suspicions to himself, the credulous giant was able to put two and two together and realise that Lily may not have been the saint that history and Albus Dumbledore had painted her to be. If Hagrid could make the connection between Severus and Harry, then it would only be a matter of time before others would.

Doubtless, others would not believe so readily that the circumstances behind Harry's conception were conceptual. Severus had a dark past and many would immediately expect the unthinkable of him rather than think that Lily could be unfaithful to James Potter, if only for a brief time. Severus' analytical mind kept screaming at him that Harry's resemblance to him was strictly coincidental. It had been a brief affair, abruptly cut short for reasons that remained unknown to him, but Lily and James had been together for…. Try though he might, Severus could not deny it. The timing was right and looking at the boy was like peering into a mirror of the past.

Severus could survive the scrutiny, the uncomfortable questions, and the unwarranted accusations— but could Harry? Perhaps it would be better for Harry if Severus said nothing and simply denied everything once the hard questions began to be asked. But how could he do it? Even if Harry never knew the truth, Severus always would.

Two young boys sat excitedly on the edges of their beds. One was tall for his age with red hair and freckles, and the other, fair, with emerald eyes behind round glasses. Hidden underneath the fringe of his stringy, raven-black hair was a peculiar scare shaped like a lightning bolt.

Harry Potter had just met his new friend, Ron Weasley, that very morning on the train to Hogwarts. Ron looked just like the rest of his family—all red hair and freckles. Harry had never seen a family the size of the Weasleys. So far, Harry had met Ron's mum, his little sister, and three of his older brothers, and that wasn't even the lot of them. Ron seemed to be a little put out being in the middle of such a large family. One older brother had been Head Boy and another, captain of the school Quidditch team. Now Percy, the oldest at Hogwarts now, was just named a Prefect. He was nice enough to Harry, but he seemed a bit bossy to Ron and their other brothers, the twins, Fred and George. Despite the fact that Ron seemed to be lost in such a large family, Harry couldn't help but feel envious that it was obvious that his new friend belonged somewhere.

Harry other dorm mates, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas, were already asleep. Harry had no idea how late it was, but he was too excited to sleep and Ron had proven himself a good friend by staying up with him.

"It's the last cauldron cake. You want?" Ron asked as he longingly eyed the flaky, sweet pastry that lay on the edge of Harry's bed.

"Nah," Harry replied, tossing the tasty treat to his new friend as he rubbed his belly. "I'm podged."

Harry grinned as Ron caught the pasty, eagerly tore it open and shoved half of it into his mouth. It felt so nice to have a friend to share with.

And it was true— Harry couldn't remember ever being so full in his life. Aunt Petunia had never let him eat until he had his fill. Harry could count on one hand how many times he was allowed a second helping, much less pudding or sweeties. The only time he was ever got such treats was when he went to his babysitter's house, Mrs Figg. Mrs Figg always let Harry indulge in whatever he wanted, but the house always smelled like cats and cabbages and that always threw off Harry's appetite.

Hogwarts was truly incredible, with its talking portraits, magical floating candles, and bewitched ceiling. It was like nothing Harry could have imagined in his wildest dreams. At the feast, Harry had been awestruck; he had never seen so much food in his entire life. It seemed Hogwarts served a bit of everything, even peppermint humbugs, which struck Harry as a bit odd.

As Harry listened to Ron's satisfied smackings, he couldn't help but think about that dark-haired teacher. Whenever Harry looked his way he would get the strangest pain in his scar. Harry had never had pain in his scar before.

Percy told him that the teacher's name was Professor Snape. In fact, Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Professor Snape was looking at him. It was kinda weird. Harry would get this strange feeling that he was being watched, but when he looked up at the Head table Professor Snape was looking elsewhere or talking to the teacher next to him—the one with the purple turban.

"Ron?" Harry began.

"Mmph?" Ron responded with a full mouth, causing more than a few crumbs to fly from his lips.

"That teacher, Professor Snape, I think he was watching us. Why do you suppose that was?"

Ron shrugged and swallowed loudly. "Fred and George say he is a real git and hates Gryffindors—always taking points for no reason, assigning awful detentions and favouring the Slytherins." Ron snorted. "He was probably was wondering which one of us he would torture first. I sure do hope Potions are not the first class on our timetable tomorrow." Ron yawned loudly and crawled beneath his duvet. "I don't know about you but I'm knackered. G'night,Harry."

"I am too. Night, Ron," Harry replied softly. As he climbed into his incredibly soft bed, Harry could have sworn that he had caught Professor Snape staring at him just once. But contrary to what Ron had said, Harry saw no malice in the professor's eyes. If anything, Harry thought he looked curious…or maybe something Harry couldn't quite place.

Harry was sure of one thing, though— it was not hate or disgust. Thanks to his relatives, Harry was all-too familiar with those looks.

Harry decided not to worry about it anymore. For the first time in his memory, he didn't have to worry about anything. His belly was full, his bed was warm, he had a friend, and he was safe inside Hogwarts. Harry rolled over on his side, pulled his soft covers up to his chin, and closed his eyes. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that never remembered being so comfortable.