Disclaimer: I don't own HP.

Note: And for the fourth rewrite of this chapter…

Chapter 1

If ever there was a famous couple in the wizarding world, it was James and Lily Potter. They were top of their class, possessed astounding skills in their own fields (Transfiguration and Charms respectively), and most of all loving parents. No matter how enjoyable their friends and their jobs, nothing beat their tiny son, Harry. If only they had known that their lives would end on Halloween 1981 and that their son would be exposed to the worst sort of muggles imaginable they wouldn't have chosen Peter Pettigrew as their Secret Keeper.

1981:

"Whose got a funny nose? Whose got a funny nose? Yes, that's right, Daddy does!"

James Potter rolled his eyes as his wife cooed to their son. "My nose is not funny, Lils," he grumbled as he eyed the mountain of paperwork on his desk. "It's artistic," he added and stuck his nose into the air to further illustrate his point.

"Says you," she retorted, rubbing her nose with their son's. James smiled as he watched them, thankful that he was so lucky to have such a wonderful wife and son. Even if said wife loved to make fun of him. "Thank goodness Harry didn't inherit it. He inherited his mum's good looks, didn't he?" She grinned as her son smiled and garbled happily to himself, waving his hands in the air wildly as if trying to agree.

"Well, I guess when you say it like that I can't be too upset, Lils. After all, he'll be inheriting all the really important stuff from me." Dodging the smack upside the head he knew she would deliver, he smirked and attempted to get back to his work. Being an Auror sometimes really wasn't worth this amount of nonsense. Why couldn't they just catch the guy and be done with it?

"Albus will perform the spell tomorrow," he remarked, giving Lily a significant glance. He sighed when he noted the back of her neck tense; he hated making her worry. "Will he? Are you sure it's Peter then?" she asked, giving Harry another smile to make sure that he didn't start fussing. "Yes, Sirius was too worried about the possibilities." Lily bit her lip and nodded. "It'll be all right," she vowed.

"Yes, it will," he said, trying for a reassuring smile. James wasn't sure how well it worked, but at least some of the tension eased out of her neck. Giving a sigh he attempted to scratch out a few words with his quill, but was soon distracted again by his wife and son. Oh, well, who cares? He could always get it done later.

Giving up on the paperwork, James took Harry and tickled him playfully. He smiled at the giggling infant before throwing him up in the air a few times. The squeals of happiness that followed were sounds of music to his ears. Life was too short, he reasoned. Especially in this time of war. It was best to enjoy it while he could.

He loved his family.

Present:

Hogwarts:

Severus Snape, the greasy bat of a professor that hated all children (big and small), lived in the dungeons. He hated the sun, despised all noises, and abhorred the very thought of frolicking in the grass during the summer. He was a loner, a recluse, and hater of all things happy. The only things that he could say he loved, though love was a word he was very hesitant to use at all, was his quarters filled to the brim with books and his potions.

Books had been his saving grace when he was small. His mother was meek and his father was a man who Severus had never wanted to cross. He'd buried himself in the family library for as long as he could remember and he had continued the behavior at Hogwarts when his peers had become more than a little vicious. Potions had been the only skill he had inherited from his mother. She had been a brilliant witch with many ideas that Severus still used to this day. However, his father had strangled her, both mentally and at the end, physically.

Severus was not a happy adult and he despised anyone that tried to change it. He was, however, sometimes content in brief moments that carried him from one year to the next. He was, however, far from content at the moment, all due to the irritating manipulation of his employer, Albus Dumbledore.

If only Severus had known that this manipulation would lead to a better future and a much happier life. Maybe then he would have approached the assignment with some sort of lightness in his heart and quickness in his steps.

As it was, he was ready to strangle the beloved headmaster at the thought of what awaited him.

Number Four Privet Drive:

The cupboard under the stairs was small and very dark, except for the times when the sun shone through the windows and into the small vent on the door. Then there were little strips of light that danced over the farthest wall. It had been Harry's bedroom since he was really, really little before he'd used his oddness. He remembered before the cupboard that there had been a nice room with two cots and a window that had nice curtains covered with stars. His freakishness though had made everything change.

There were spiders in the cupboard that liked to dance over the thin mattress on the floor and up into his hair while he slept. They never bit and when they danced over his skin it felt like someone was tickling him. At times he was grateful for the spiders, because they were always there to lend an ear when he was feeling bad, which was a lot.

There were no blankets in the cupboard and there hadn't been since he was very young. His uncle had removed them when Dudley, his cousin, had made fun of the ragged tears in the corners. He hadn't meant to change them, to make them look like his cousin's brand new ones with stars…but it always happened anyway.

The pillow in the cupboard had a series of lumps that never seemed to go away, no matter how hard he tried to smash it flat. Sometimes he wished that his odd ability would work for things like that, but it had a mind of its own.

The clothes in the cupboard were all that he owned, and like everything else, were hand me downs from his cousin, who was way too large. Sometimes Harry couldn't help but laugh when he realized that Dudley almost had to turn sideways to fit through doors now. He always made sure to laugh behind his hand of course. It wouldn't do to have his uncle or aunt see him.

There were no pictures of family in the cupboard, since Harry had lost his Mum and Dad when he was very young. He had no real memories of them, but he knew that his mummy's hair was a kind of red that resembled a penny. He also knew that his Dad wore glasses, but not the kind that he wore.

Harry had broken glasses that his Aunt Petunia had fished out of a charity bin. She'd sniffed when she'd handed them to him, her face twisted into such a look of disapproval that it had followed him into his dreams that night and the next as well. Harry had hid his face in shame when the kids in school made fun of him the next day.

Harry lived in the cupboard and he was very used to it. When he wasn't in school he stayed in the cupboard all day unless he needed to clean or cook something. He didn't really mind it, since he had a few school books there, and his uncle couldn't fit into it to punish him when he was bad.

The Boy-Who-Lived was in a cupboard and no one in the magical world seemed to care.

Until now.

End Chapter 1.

Note: This is my first little ficlet in a long while. So please be gentle!