A/N: The prologue is there only to give a general explanation as to how this world's Harry differs from canon Harry with respect to life circumstances and upbringing, and to introduce you in broad strokes to the Snake of the title, Evan Snape, who is Lily's and Severus' son. Skipping the prologue will not in any way hamper you from reading the story, and as its style differs considerably from that of the rest of the story, taking a look at the actual first chapter will probably serve far better to give you an idea of my writing style, the tone of the story, and the actual characters. I never consider prologues to be too informative of the story flow, and do like making mine stand out in the same way that I like making interludes, unusual POV scenes, and scenes of flashbacks and dreams stand out, to give flavor to the writing (which I know might put off some first-time readers, ergo my urging to skip it if it's not to your taste).
Prologue: The Two Boys Who Could Have Been One
Harry James Potter grew up hearing stories about his parents. Potter, an old pure-blood family with wealth and standing in the wizarding world, could trace its ancestry back to the Peverells. The name was well respected, familiar, and nearly extinct, for his grandparents had died before his father had married his Muggle-born mother, and his parents themselves had followed within two years. James was the middle name chosen for him by his guardian, in memory of the sacrifice his parents had made for him to live. First name, though, had oft been a matter of question, as so many of his parents' friends had been told a different version, and thus believed him to be named alternatively Harold, Henry, Hadrian (Merlin forbid) or, in one particularly hilarious instance, Hieronymus. He himself found it hilarious that no one would actually believe his name to be simply Harry, but that was what it was, and if asked, he would have been quite happy to show his own enthusiasm on the subject.
Harry was told from his earliest childhood that he favoured his father greatly, with his completely untameable black hair, bad eyesight that required glasses and a natural charm that came effortlessly to him. From his mother, he had inherited a slighter build, which was one of the things he hated about himself, but his guardian promised would be absolutely essential for a Seeker, his favourite position in a Quidditch team. His father had been a Chaser during his Hogwarts days, and Harry had inherited his expertise and agility on a broom. The other thing that was blatantly his mother's was the colour and shape of his eyes, blue as brilliant as a summer sky, that were often wont to deepen into dark cerulean when he was very focused or emotional. His guardian had told him those were the eyes that had completely enchanted his father, back when such things as fighting dark lords and having a family were still ideas, rather than reality.
His guardian was an easy-going man with a fun-loving childish streak that never died out, even after assuming responsibility of an orphaned six-month-old child, and a brash personality that often made him clash with those of differing opinions. He'd never married, preferring the ease of casual relationships, and had only once made the mistake of introducing one of his lady-friends to Harry, who'd been nearly three at the time, and if asked today, eight years later, wouldn't even remember it. The disastrous incident was, thankfully, salvaged by one of his mother's best friends, after which his guardian had made certain to keep his private life well away from Harry.
This was partly the reason why Harry had very few female role-models in his life. His mother's best friend had her own family, and came over rarely after that one and only time Harry had been introduced to her son (or, more precisely, remembered being introduced), a play date that, rather than allowing the two boys to make new friends, only resulted in a very deep dislike, for the other boy was subdued, studious, shy, and sullen, the complete opposite of Harry, who was boisterous, playful, outgoing and cheerful. Why this was so, was at the time too difficult for Harry's five-year-old mind to comprehend, but by the time he could have, the status quo had already been set, and wasn't to be changed.
As far as friendships went, Harry's circle was rather humble in spite of his fame. His guardian's brother had a daughter one year younger, but she seemed afraid of him, and the only topic they could discuss was Quidditch, as both of their fathers had played it for their respective houses. Still, she was a girl, and in Harry's mind couldn't be considered under the category of 'best mate'. His best friend was a boy his age who was the youngest of six brothers in a rather poor family, whose parents were about a decade older than his own guardian. The boy's mother was, in Harry's mind, the epitome of motherhood, and his mixed feelings varied with the situation, for the woman liked to coddle, and Harry alternated between enjoying the attention, and feeling smothered. The oldest brothers held little interest for Harry, who, in his nearly eleven years of life had only seen them exactly three times, the middle brother was too rigid and pompous to want to be befriended. The twins were Harry's calibre, however, and would have been his best friends, had they not been, the first time he'd considered identifying a person as his best friend, at that stage when they wouldn't deign to give time of day to those younger than themselves. Still, they were pranksters extraordinaire, nearly at the rank of his guardian, and that always held sway over Harry's view of them. Their only sister was shy and never spoke more than three sentences to him, so he mostly ignored her. Aside from them was his guardian's best friend, a tired-looking, kind man Harry considered his uncle, who sometimes even acted as another parent to him, and who was his private tutor for the six years before Hogwarts.
The fame of the Boy Who Lived was a mixed bag in Harry's household. While he loved the attention, in the house, he was not treated in any special way because of it, and the only time he'd seen his guardian angry to the point of a smarting bottom was the day he had tried to use it as a ploy to gain something he'd wanted. His guardian had needed almost a week to start treating him normally again, and his uncle and guardian's best friend had explained to him during that time, when he'd come to the man with tears in his eyes, that he'd only gained his fame at the cost of his parents, and that he should consider the fact that every time he tried to use this fame for his own gain, he'd instead be essentially using this ultimate sacrifice his parents (and his guardian's almost-adoptive brother) had made. Harry, whose one unfulfilled heart's desire was to know his parents, whom everyone, it seemed, but he himself had known, never felt more shame in his entire short life than in that moment, and never did it again. That was the day he started hating the idea of people sacrificing themselves for him, and determined to stare death in the face if it meant others wouldn't be dying for him.
His favourite activity was Quidditch, of which he knew probably more than even the most zealous of fans, and his usual occupations were flying and pranking, neither of which demanded he sit down for long periods of time and read. Indeed, everyone who'd ever met him said that while his mind was very sharp, as things tended to come naturally to him without his conscious effort, his main problem in learning things was that he had too much unfocused energy, and was utterly unmotivated to direct that energy towards written word. From the stories his guardian and his uncle told him of their school years, however, he already had a preference for two subjects – Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration; the first, because defensive and offensive spells came much more naturally to him than any single charm without a specific effect on his interaction with others, and the second, because of the fact that he was a very visual person, and therefore had no problem imagining things in his head. As this was also something his father excelled at, Harry felt sufficient motivation for it, even if, at present, he could only learn the theoretical aspects.
In all, Harry Potter was a relatively happy child with no concept of Number Four, Privet Drive, the cupboard under the stairs, or the Dursleys. Had he any concept, however, he would have been altogether thoroughly relieved that his mother wasn't Lily Evans.
Evan Stephen Snape was not a child of wealth by any means, but such things mattered very little to someone of humble nature. Snape was a family name of little standing, one that would have been gladly discarded by his father for his mother's, had such a thing been seen as anything but a complete travesty in the wizarding world. As it was, his mother had taken it instead, and it had been given to him, the only name he'd known, and a name he quite liked if pushed to give an answer. His ancestry was that of the Prince family, a Pure-blood family reduced to his aging great-grandmother, for his grandparents on that side were dead and buried for quite a few years. The Prince family's wealth lay in their land and material possessions, more than any money in vaults, and the barest of ideas that his father might one day be recognised as the rightful heir was thoroughly extinguished the day he'd married a Muggle-born, the second in as many generations to do so. Stephen was the name of his grandfather on his mother's side, a man that had died the day he was born, and the reason why he'd been a preterm baby by a month and a half. Evan was the name his father had chosen because of his mother's surname, and if asked, Evan would have said the thing he loved most about it was that it connected him to his mother in yet another way.
In appearance, Evan also favoured his father a great deal – his hair was straight and shiny black, easy to dirty, prone to oiling and annoying to tend to. He had his father's long nose, though not as hooked, as well his elongated face. His eyes were his one feature he shared with his mother, piercing green and, framed with the curtain of black, rarely seen but instantly capturing attention when on display. It was the thing his father loved most about his mother's appearance, and in a way it made him feel that much closer to the emotionally closed-off man, as well.
He had both parents, and loved both equally, though in very different ways. He was an only child, and only had vague recollections of the time, filled with night terrors that had persisted to this very day, when he'd been four, when his mother was gone for nearly three months, at the hospital because of a bad stillbirth, and his father had been in one of his worst moods for the duration of it. It was (though, luckily, he didn't know it then) the one time his parents had drifted so far apart, it had nearly come to a separation. His mother was the kindest, most open-hearted person he'd ever met, quick to anger but even quicker to forgive, always having good advice and a willing shoulder to cry on. His father was a snarky, impatient man who had no tolerance for foolishness and even less for disrespect, a proud man who carried grudges and had no problem expressing his displeasure at every opportunity. In spite of that, Evan rather liked the man's possessive protectiveness, and the man's advice, while usually delivered in a cold, disapproving tone, always was spot-on. He had no doubt of his parents' love for each other or for him, but he was by far more comfortable with the man's rare hand on his shoulder or head, than the woman's openly affectionate kisses and long hugs (even though he secretly craved them).
Evan's natural introversion meant he had very few friends. He attended a Muggle primary school, something his mother insisted and his father grudgingly agreed on, but he was often viewed as strange and dislikeable there. While he did like the materials they learned, it was mostly because they gave him a better understanding of the subjects he truly enjoyed, such as Potions or Arithmancy, something his father was rather proud of. His one confrontation with the class bully had ended in a rather terrifying display of accidental magic, after which other children usually just left him alone. His one attempt at befriending a child of his mother's old, long-gone friends (or, more precisely, the one remembered attempt) had ended without results, mostly because he didn't have any inclination to actually try. The boy was loud, brash, inconsiderate and boastful, qualities that clashed harshly with his quiet, cautious, considerate and humble personality. The two friends he considered close to him were both girls and both a year younger than he. The first was the daughter of his father's old friend from Hogwarts, who was as shy and quiet as he was, and with whom he could share his interest in Potions and Herbology. The second was the youngest child of a very large family, a tomboy who wasn't afraid to speak her own opinion and defend him from her brothers. Her mother was great friends with his own, a willing mentor when his mother had needed one after his birth, which meant he was not an uncommon fixture in that household. Of the girl's brothers, he appreciated the wit of the prank-loving twins and the calm, dignified way the two oldest spoke to him, not as if he were an age-mate of their youngest two siblings, but as an intelligent, inquisitive, mature boy that he was. The middle brother was too self-absorbed and proud for his liking, and the youngest was too loud and brash.
Occasionally, when his father's acquaintances brought their children with them, he'd be forced to socialise, but they were all as conceited as their parents, and not rarely sneered down on his much less lavish clothes and possessions. If asked personally, Evan would have said his family was middle-class, but the children he met were of the upper echelons of their society, and that naturally put him in a somewhat subservient position, a position he hated from the bottom of his heart. Why his father maintained ties with these people, Evan wouldn't be able to say, but these encounters led to his fierce ambition to prove that being middle-class didn't mean he was less worthy than the others, nor that his ancestry defined his power as a wizard. Pride, he had aplenty, though his, unlike his father's rather poignant, in-your-face type, was quiet and expressed itself not in his relationships with others, but in his actions towards himself. He held grudges, but good deeds did often erase the bad ones in his mind, at least partially, and he had brains enough to know when another person's worth in a particular situation outweighed his own animosity and dislike towards them, a thing his father still often struggled with.
Evan's favourite activity was reading, and he very rarely went anywhere without a book. His public education may have been delegated to the Muggle teachers, but his common sense and intellect had been honed by his father, who often gave him challenging logical problems to solve with little to no help. He read crime novels and enjoyed snarky, weird characters who never ran out of amusing comebacks and usually got along only with their sidekick, a person who never lost faith in them. His wizarding education, though mostly theoretical, was advanced enough he knew his favourite subjects would be Potions and Ancient Runes, both requiring precision and patience, of which he had more than enough. These preferences, however, had, in his almost eleven years of existence, reflected themselves in his physical stature, and those who knew him often tried to, without any success, convince him that there were things other than books to be seen and tried in the world.
In all, Evan Snape was a relatively happy child with no concept of fame notoriety, prophecies, or foreign soul fragments. Had he any concept, however, he would have been altogether thoroughly relieved that his father wasn't James Potter.
A/N: This story, and the series that it belongs to, take place from 1991 onwards and follow the timeline of the original HP books. If anyone is interested in the way these changes originally came about, i.e. how the story initially diverged from canon in the Marauder Era, there is a prequel series titled The Butterfly Wings and the Hurricane, with the first story in it named The Path Not Tread. Whereas this will be more an outright adventure genre, the prequel story is a heavy drama, so be aware that their tones do differ noticeably.
I will attempt to keep a regular schedule of updating, though as I'm currently in the final stages of my Masters degree, I can't make a firm promise of it. Also, if anyone would be so kind as to britpick for me, that would be greatly appreciated; I don't have a beta, so any mistakes are mine alone.