Chapter Text
To understand what actually happened, you would literally have to step into my body and my mind, and then maybe, just maybe, you would have a chance to feel what I felt.
First and foremost, I didn't want this. I didn't ask for it; it was supposed to stay that way. I could have lived my whole life in peace just as I had planned, it would have been enough if I had just said nothing to anyone and played dead. But this was my life, and in it, nothing ever happens according to the rules, or according to what I intended. It never was that way. It wasn't meant to be that way this time either.
My life turned upside down from one minute to the next, all because of one single letter. Even after that, it wasn't better, but it was much more bearable. Especially because those I called friends stood by me literally through thick and thin. They didn't leave me in the lurch and were my perfect support.
So today I am going to tell you a story that is crazy to the very last dot. It is a roller coaster of emotions, feelings, unexpected and expected betrayal, and last but not least, finding a person who in a single moment becomes the center of your universe. About this feeling and this situation, I never said that I didn't ask for it, because however far-fetched it seemed, this person was able to anchor me exactly as I needed at the moment when it was most necessary.
I will tell you a story about how the impossible became real, how order can emerge from chaos, and how to learn to protect your loved ones no matter what it costs, even your emotionally unstable mind.
And if you are not ready for this show, I recommend you stop reading.
I am ready.
Are you?
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One more day. Just one more day.
I can survive that, right? Tomorrow I am supposed to move to the Burrow and enjoy the rest of the holidays there. So I just have to survive this one single day here. I hope nothing goes wrong and I manage it without much harm to my health.
Although the summer here this year was not among the worst, it was still no walk in the park.
Dudley had to straighten up his behavior a bit after the police brought him home one day. It was quite pleasant for once to watch Aunt Petunia screaming at someone other than me. Even Uncle Vernon was not thrilled when he found out, and so Dudley got his first punishment from his parents.
So yes, the summer after this incident was quite satisfactory, because this year I had a helper in my chores. Dudley didn't like it much, but I liked it very much. After very long days, Dudley understood that what he did was very bad, it was clear that he wanted to shorten his punishment, but Aunt Petunia was adamant, and his apologies did not shorten his punishment in any way.
For once, the Dursleys were fair, even though most of the time they still acted like I didn't exist, which suited me perfectly.
So the last evening before my departure to the Burrow was supposed to be, in essence, a reward.
But even I had no idea how terribly wrong I was. So terribly wrong that I wouldn't wish it on any of you. So terribly wrong that I would rather stay in this hole for the rest of the summer and pretend that none of it happened and never will happen.
The shock I experienced, I wouldn't wish on anyone in the world, not even my greatest enemy.
I was slowly waiting for midnight. For me, it was a tradition, and I had no reason to change it in any way. And fifteenth birthdays are celebrated only once in a lifetime after all, and I am really looking forward to celebrating them with Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys.
It will be a really long week. It really will.
Nightmares from the Triwizard Tournament still haunted me. I still had the scene of Wormtail killing Cedric in front of me. This will haunt me for the rest of my life.
I looked at the alarm clock standing on my nightstand. Two more minutes and I will be fifteen. The longest two minutes of my life. As if I were about to die. I nervously paced the room back and forth to kill time, when suddenly I heard a soft tapping on the window. I almost jumped to the ceiling in fright. I quickly recovered and as quietly as possible went to open it, so as not to wake my aunt and uncle.
"Thanks for the letter," I whispered, stroked the owl's feathers, and took the envelope from it.
The letter was not from Hogwarts. I recognized that immediately. On the envelope of heavy, yellowish parchment, the Hogwarts crest was missing – no lion, snake, eagle, or badger. And it wasn't from Dumbledore either, as it wasn't his rambling handwriting full of loops, and even the seal that closed the letter was completely foreign to me. It was a wax crest with a large, ornate letter P in the middle.
But who could it be? I didn't know anyone else whose last name started with P.
Well, okay. I am really curious who is writing to me at this time of night when all my legal and illegal friends are probably sleeping or planning my rescue.
I carefully broke the seal and unfolded the letter. And a second later, I realized that I should rather not have done it. I should have taken the letter, burned it, flushed the ashes down the toilet, and pretended it never happened. Already upon reading the first line, my world collapsed. At least what I thought I knew about it. My head began to hum and the room began to spin with me, I heard the blood rushing in my head, my breathing began to quicken, I began to panic. I will faint soon, I had no doubt about that. Uncle Vernon would be delighted if he found me unconscious on the floor in the morning with a strange letter in my hand. That would be quite a roar.
Quickly, almost in agony, my eyes skipped to the end of the page and looked for the author's signature.
Lily Evans Potter.
My mom. Who has been dead for fourteen years.
Damn. So this is going to be a disaster of catastrophic, intergalactic proportions. This will be an Armageddon of epic scales, against which the Triwizard Tournament was just a friendly game of tic tac toe. I probably won't be able to breathe through this. Just the salutation was enough to completely throw me off and ruin the remains of my mental health.
Dear Harry Tobias Potter.
Tobias? My middle name isn't Tobias. It's James. After my dad. It was always James. I have it written on all school documents, damn, even on that warrant the ministry is sure to issue for me soon!
I'm starting to get terrified. Truly, honestly terrified. This really doesn't bode well. If it turns out I'm named after someone I don't know, or worse, someone I know and hate, I'll probably volunteer for the Dementors.
So back to reading. I have to find out. Which is the disadvantage of my curiosity.
Inhale.
Exhale.
(Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth, like Madam Pomfrey said when I was panicking in the hospital wing).
Inhale.
Exhale.
Fine, I'm okay. My heart is only beating at the speed of a jackhammer and my hands are shaking so much that the parchment rustles like leaves in a gale. How long will I be able to breathe through this? For two seconds?
Oh no, I'm starting to panic again. Can't I have peace for once? Can't I have a normal birthday where I just get socks from the Dursleys and a pile of food from the Weasleys?
So okay, I have to finish reading it. It is, after all, a letter from mom. From mom. That alone is reason enough and I shouldn't act like a cowardly Slytherin hiding behind a chair in the common room.
So, Gryffindor courage (if you're out there somewhere and not asleep), here goes. Where did I leave off? Oh yeah, I haven't even started. So we continue. Now or never.
Harry Tobias Potter, if my assumptions and calculations are correct, today you celebrate your fifteenth birthday. So if that is indeed the case, James and I wish you all the best. It will be a big year for you at school, your OWL exams await you and I believe that we will be proud of you and you will pass them with flying colors.
"Wait, wait, wait..." I breathed out loud into the silence of the room. "Did she say James?" My heart skipped a beat. My finger ran over that name. James and I wish you. Not "dad and I". Not "I and your father". James. As if he were just... someone. A stranger. A friend? One parent doesn't address the other like that. "Oh no. This is starting to be really, really uncomfortable," I muttered and felt cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I feel like I won't just recover from this. Maybe I should just eat the letter so it stops existing. But curiosity was stronger than the instinct for self-preservation. My eyes jumped along the lines further.
You know, Harry, I hope you never read this letter. That James and I will tell you the truth face to face one day. Today you are exactly one year old and you made us the two happiest people in the world. But if you are holding this letter in your hands after all, something terrible must have happened. I have a certain ill foreboding, but I hope it never comes true. If something happened to us then, I believe you know the reason for our death or disappearance and that your life is nevertheless as pleasant as it can be.
"Pleasant?" I chuckled hysterically and remembered the cupboard under the stairs and Dudley's fists. "Sure, mom. A vacation in the Caribbean is total stress compared to staying with the Dursleys."
But now back to the point. Today you should be fifteen years old and although I don't want to spoil your big day, at this moment I must introduce you to the truth. To one that will change the lives of many people, including yours.
So okay. Here it is. The proverbial calm before the storm. Something inside me was desperately screaming that I really didn't want to know. That it would be better to believe it was just some trifle, an administrative error in the wizarding registry. But my Gryffindor curiosity was now stronger than the desire for peaceful sleep. Would it be wise to put the letter away?
Yes.
Will I do it?
Not a chance.
I looked again at the beginning of the next paragraph. Mom wrote the salutation there again. But this time differently. Completely differently.
Harold Tobias Snape.
The world around me ceased to exist. The room disappeared. Only this line remained, burning a hole in my retina and etching itself into my memory.
"For Merlin... just not this," I exhaled and felt my stomach churn. "Harold would still pass. That sounds... ancient. But what about that Snape at the end? Is this a joke? Did Fred and George hack into the afterlife mail?"
But Lily Potter's handwriting didn't shake as if someone were writing and laughing at the same time. It was steady and firm.
After this salutation, I hope you have understood. But if you need reassurance, then listen: James Potter is not your father. Not biologically.
At that moment, I felt as if someone had hit me with a Stunning Spell. James Potter... that hero I looked up to? That man I saw in the Mirror of Erised? He isn't my... and if my name is Snape, then that means...
"No," I whispered into the empty room. "It can't be true. Anyone but that greasy bat from the dungeons. Please, let it rather be Voldemort, but not Snape!"
GOD, NO!
So okay.
Inhale.
Exhale. Again.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Okay, at this moment, I officially panicked. I don't need to know more, I don't want to. Oh, Merlin, my curiosity will truly kill me one day. I glanced at the next line.
If you are interested, your father's name is...
"Sure, I got that, mom. I really don't yearn to read further," I hissed through clenched teeth.
And yes, James knew about it. You see, I had to send your father the same letter. He must know too. Regardless of that, there are laws that tie my hands and I cannot inform only one side. I had to write to him and send a similar letter as to you. And it is better if he learns it from me than if he learns it from the ministry registry. They aren't exactly lenient toward such secrets there.
Damn. This will be the end of me. I won't survive this school year. Goodbye, Harry Potter, it was nice as long as I thought my father was a Gryffindor. If I can handle this, then I can handle absolutely everything. Even killing Voldemort and dancing the charleston on his grave.
You are his son after all and he has a right to it. I don't know where your father will be located at this time, but please, find him and try to find a way to him. He is a person with a great heart, you just have to get to know him closer.
"I'll probably have to visit a medimagician for my eyes, because I must have read something wrong," I muttered into the silence of the room and the letter shook dangerously in my hand. "Snape having a great heart? I'd really like to be there for that one day. I really would. Maybe when he wins a contest for the greasiest hair of the century."
Harry, please, do it not only for me, but also for yourself. Promise me that you will at least try. In this envelope you will find your real birth certificate. The one with the name you have used until now is likely with Dumbledore, or whoever has you in guardianship. I firmly believe it is Sirius. Oh, Merlin, he will be furious. Tell Sirius as soon as possible so he has time to come to terms with it. He won't want to believe it, so please have patience with him. But once he absorbs the information, he will live up to his role as godfather and defend you.
"Sirius will kill him," I stated dryly. "And then he'll kill me. And then he'll kill himself. That will be a great family gathering."
One more thing you should know.
Alright then. One more surprise and the nightmare will end, right? Then I'll wake up and everything will be back in the old tracks. I hope it's really just a dream, or I've become the victim of some brutal joke by Fred and George.
Today the genetic spell will slowly stop working. That is why you looked like a small copy of James for fifteen years. Yes, you understand correctly. I don't know how long it will take before it fades completely, but I can tell you two things. First: you do NOT have your father's nose. Fortunately, we managed to find that out during that short time.
"Merlin, thanks!" I burst out and for the first time that night I felt a bit relieved. At least I won't look like a giant hook in a robe.
Second: you will still have green eyes. But what you will look like further, I won't tell you, because I don't know myself. We cast the genetic spell on you as soon as possible. Harry, son, try to enjoy your birthday despite this news. Celebrate and have fun with friends. Don't be unhappy and please, accept what you are. Don't give up and remember that we still love you. James and I. Forever with love, Mom.
Inhale.
Exhale.
No, I won't breathe through this. I just can't do this anymore. I feel my hands starting to shake and by far not just them. Everything inside me was shaking, as if my whole body wanted to get rid of that truth. I refused to accept the truth that was right in front of me, in black and white. My head tried to absorb this information and accept it, but in my subconscious, it somehow wouldn't go. My father is supposed to be someone who has bullied me since the first day at school? Someone who made me into someone I wasn't and never let it be explained? How am I supposed to find a way to such a person so we can act like one big family?
Another thing occurred to me. Mom mentioned something in the letter that sounded dangerously like the words: genetic spell, and that it should gradually wear off. My next steps thus led to the nearest mirror I had at hand.
And fortunately, I didn't see any conspicuous changes on myself. But that didn't mean they weren't there, even if I didn't have to notice them completely yet.
Okay, Potter... No, I'm not Potter. Try again. Okay, Snape, pull yourself together.
But it wasn't possible. Reality was slowly but surely catching up with me, I was starting to realize the gravity of this letter, and that it truly will change the lives of a lot of people. My brain was slowly running out of much-needed oxygen and I felt the whole room starting to spin with me. The only thing I hoped for at that moment was that I wouldn't wake anyone in the house. Because when I hit the ground, it will be a truly loud thud.
My knees buckled like a house of cards. The last thing I perceived was that endlessly long fall to the floor. My last thought was that this cannot end well, and before I hit my head on the ground, a terrified woman's scream sounded in my ears, which I couldn't place:
"For God's sake, Harry! What are you doing again?!"
Then only sweet, merciful unconsciousness swallowed me.