Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter.

A/N: It is time for me to take that special HP Fanfic writer's Rite of Passage, a Severitus. Feel free to laugh, but leave a review at the same time!

Trial by Family

Prologue

"If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people."

Thich Nhat Hanh

Harry Potter sat on his bed, frowning at the letter in his hands.

It had arrived approximately ten minutes ago, though that fact hardly mattered to Harry. It wasn't even very significant a letter either. Its text held neither words of great import, nor warnings of great danger.

In fact, as letters go, one might describe it to be rather pointless. Harry himself was thinking that very same thing at that moment in time. He did not want to seem ungrateful, but he wondered whether his friends should bother writing to him at all, if all he was going to receive were hasty scribblings such as: "Can't say much. Having a fun summer. Hope the muggles aren't getting to you. Hermione says hi! She's been hounding me to do my homework, been dodging as best as possible. Got to go, bye for now, Ron."

Harry could appreciate that Owl Post was not the safest way to communicate if one wanted one's letters to remain private. Surely, he, more than anyone, could appreciate that. But he was not expecting them to write down all the secrets of the Order of the Phoenix in their letters. He seriously doubted they would be able to, despite the restrictions, since he was very sure they didn't know any of the Order's business. Their mother, he thought, was fiercely against them being involved any more than they already were.

With a sigh he crumpled up the letter and threw it in the bin. Then, he paused for a moment, felt bad and bent down to retrieve it again. Smoothing it out as much as possible, he folded it and left it on the window sill.

He was not having a good summer.

Sirius Black, his godfather, had died in the Department of Mysteries some weeks ago, and though he was beginning to come to terms with the part he played in the tragedy, the grief he felt, and the feeling of sheer loss was still very raw.

He'd had plenty of time to think about everything that had happened. His relatives, The Dursleys, had taken the warning from the Order members at the train station seriously. But their interpretation of those threats had led them to simply ignore him. They didn't send him on errands, or set him copious amounts of housework to do. They just… acted like he wasn't there. And though it was an improvement from the outright hostility he'd been treated with up until now, it was unsettling.

During the long hours in his room with nothing to do but read his textbooks, do his homework and just lay about generally, he'd had a chance to do some serious rumination on Sirius, his life until this point, his friends, Hogwarts, the Prophecy, and the wizarding world in general.

He'd drawn several conclusions as well.

The first, was that Sirius' death was not his fault. Not entirely. It was a horrible accident, and if blame were to be placed anywhere, it should be with Bellatrix and Voldemort. However, there were others involved also. Dumbledore, for keeping Harry so in the dark that he'd no idea he could have false visions. Sirius himself, for not only doing exactly what Harry had done, by charging into a dangerous situation without thought or preparation, but also acting with complacency and overconfidence in that fatal duel with his cousin.

He, himself, had a hand in it, and though it irked him, he'd had to agree with Snape on a few things too. He did act like a foolish and reckless Gryffindor. He could be alarmingly brash and overconfident at times.

But, having realised these truths, he looked inside himself for the answers as to why he behaved that way. A lot of it, he could put down to being a hormonally imbalanced teenager. This was not something to be taken lightly. It is a known fact the world over that teenagers always think they are right, and that their elders are over the hill and pathetically clueless.

However, Harry also knew that there was more to it than that. He had finally made a break through one night while he was gazing up at the artex ceiling in his tiny room, trying to make shapes out of the patterns.

He had little respect for people in positions of authority, just as Snape said. And the reason was, which, if any, authority figures in Harry's life had ever given him a reason to trust them? To take them seriously? In his opinion, none.

The Dursleys, well, no need to explain there. Mr and Mrs Weasley were sweethearts, but they treated him as if he was eight, and though they did their best to look after him, it was also abundantly clear that they had enough on their plates with their own children to deal with.

Dumbledore told him he was trying to preserve Harry's childhood by not clueing him in on the Prophecy sooner. The man had repeatedly ignored his requests to not have to come back to the Dursleys every year. He failed to notice, or if he did notice he took no action when Harry came to school in September looking horribly thin and malnourished. If he had checked up on him during those awful years before Hogwarts, then he became complicit in the abuse he had suffered at his relatives' hands by doing nothing to stop it.

And that had been another thing which was hard to admit. He was abused. Had been since he'd arrived in this house. It didn't matter which way he looked at it, he had been neglected and abused. So, with all that in mind, which of his authority figures proved that he could trust them? None of them.

He even counted people like Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, and even Hagrid in with the rest of them. He knew he was being a tad harsh in doing so, especially to poor Hagrid, but all he could think was, that if it had been the child of his friend, he would not have just taken the Headmaster's word for it. He would want to see that the child was well with his own eyes, and check up regularly to make sure the child stayed well.

In all honesty, he would never had let the hypothetical child be taken out of his hands, given the chance and would probably have raised them himself. He would have protected them and stood up for them when no one else would. Not like how it was with him. For instance, if one of his teachers stepped out of line with him, who did he have to complain to? His Head of House? The Headmaster? Who, if anyone was completely in his corner? Who put his needs before anything else, just like a parent should? The answer was simple - no one.

As for Professor Snape, well, he was in a whole class of his own. Harry had snorted to himself when he'd first thought of the man that way. The git would probably have liked the fact that he was being treated as an individual case in Harry's mind.

The man was an enigma, and that was an understatement. To give him his due, he had saved Harry's life several times, and had always been consistent, if nothing else, in his treatment of James Potter's son.

But the intelligent, cunning, and wildly brilliant man that Harry just knew lived below the surface of his Potions Master, just didn't click with the way he treated Harry. Surely, a man as clever as Snape would not waste his time on pointless revenge. Especially on a dead man's son. He would have to know that it was a completely hopeless way of getting back at James, since the man was far beyond feeling any pain of any kind.

There just had to be another reason for it. The pampered prince line didn't work anymore either, for two reasons. The first was that Snape had seen in Harry's mind and knew of his own knowledge that 'The-Boy-Wonder' was not spoiled. Also, he was perfectly cordial, friendly even, with Draco Malfoy, and that kid was the walking definition of a Pampered and Positively Primped Prince.

It was difficult to admit, even to himself, but Harry decided, in his heart of hearts, that if push came to shove, Professor Snape was someone he could trust, with his life. But not with his self-esteem, oh no.

It was funny that, not a few days after he'd made his mind up about Snape, and the day after his latest, oh-so enlightening letter from Ron, that another letter arrived. It also happened that, this letter arrived on the stroke of midnight, making it the 31st of July, 1996. The day Harry turned sixteen.

The envelope which arrived looked worn and old, and the writing on the front was unfamiliar. Well, it seemed unfamiliar at first, but looking at it again, this time studying it, something stirred within Harry. Something akin to recognition.

Carefully, so as not to damage its contents, Harry opened the envelope.

My Dearest Harry,

I hope beyond all hope that I shall never have to send you this letter. It is my dearest wish that you should learn what I have to tell you directly from me, in person. But we do not always get what we want, and sadly, some wishes do not come true, no matter how many stars we wish upon.

I do not believe it is right for you to be kept in the dark, therefore, though it breaks my heart, I am writing this letter to you, my contingency plan, as it were.

Lately it seems as though events are spiralling out of control, and I believe that I am not long for this world. I cannot bear the thought of leaving you, but I also cannot deny the feelings deep within my very bones. Before I begin my story, I want you to know that I love you, more than anything else in the world.

I do not know what your life has been like, but I want you to never doubt how much I love you, and how happy I was when you were born. You announced your arrival with a great hearty cry, and it was the most wonderful sound I have ever heard. You are the greatest gift I have ever received, and I will love you for eternity.

Now I must tell you some things which have been kept from you. If you are reading this, then I am truly gone so I am afraid there no way for me to soften the blow.

James Potter is not your biological father.

When I was at school, I made friends with a very lonely and lost little boy. He was rather hostile and rude to me at first, but since I could see through his anger to the pain which lay within him, I persisted and would not leave him alone. Eventually, he relented and we began a real friendship.

Behind his façade lay a wonderfully intelligent and caring individual, and as we grew older, I started to fall in love with him. Luckily for me, he returned my feelings, and when we were seventeen, we became lovers.

I realise it must be difficult to hear of your mother and intimacy, but I feel as though I must give you all the facts.

He, my lover, was under pressure from his mother and friends to join the Dark Lord who has been rising in power lately, Voldemort. He had no desire to sign his life away to a madman, but he was finding it difficult to think of a way to avoid it. Unfortunately, he was trapped and tricked into taking this man's mark of service. When he was able to escape from his new master, he immediately went to a man you must know of, Albus Dumbledore, looking for help.

Sadly, Dumbledore was not willing offer his assistance unless my lover agreed to do something for him in return, which was, to spy on his master. As you can imagine, I was incensed at this suggestion and what I felt was the old man's cavalier attitude towards my lover's life. I'm afraid I did something very foolish. I confronted Dumbledore in his office and demanded to know why he was asking such a high price from one who was coming to him for sanctuary.

Many things were said, not many of them pleasant. Our relationship was revealed, including the fact that we were engaged to be married and I was expecting you. The Headmaster did not take kindly to my reprimand nor the knowledge that I was involved with his spy. He demanded that we end our engagement, and that you were aborted. He said that we posed too much of a risk.

Of course we both refused and left the office as quickly as possible. We made plans to flee from Europe and settle elsewhere. We were never able to enact those plans.

It is only recently that I have remembered all that has occurred. From the situation I am able to deduce that my lover and I have been subjected to memory charms, since I find myself and you, my son, installed in James Potter's home, purportedly as his wife and child. I know that this is not true. I am not his wife, and you are not his son.

It is only by pure chance that I have broken the charm placed on me. I believe it is because of my work as an Unspeakable, where I have been researching and testing new potions, that I am able to recall the true facts of the situation. It breaks my heart that I have been taken away from the man I love and that you have not been able to know your real father.

You have not even emerged from this unscathed, since you currently resemble James Potter, almost as if you were his clone. You still have my eyes, however, for which I am very grateful.

You real father has not been so lucky, I am afraid, since the last time I saw him he would hardly even speak to me. He acted as if I were his worst enemy, and every looked he gave you was loaded with disgust and loathing.

I have made plans to remedy this situation, but if they fail, I am sure this final contingency of mine will not.

I have arranged for this letter to be sent to you, through the Unspeakables, the minute you turn sixteen. By then you will be old enough to take charge of your life and gain your freedom, if only in the muggle world. It will be enough, however, since the magical world must honour the laws of both lands. I have also arranged for Unspeakables to visit your real father and break the memory charms on him, on the very same night.

I am unsure what the fallout of these actions will be, but I feel for any progress to be made, the truth must be known. You deserve to know who you really are, and where you come from. And your father deserves to know he has a son, and a fiancé who never stopped loving him.

Forgive me for leaving you, if I have done so. Believe that I will always be with you in your heart, and watching over you from wherever I am.

All that remains for me to tell you is this: your father is a wonderful man, named Severus Tobias Snape.

Your ever loving mother,

Lily Evans.

The man in question, though he didn't know it at the time, was currently seated in a comfortable armchair near a warm fire in his personal library. The house he had inherited from his parents wasn't much to look at on the outside, but inside Severus Snape had stretched the power of magic to its limits in making the house comfortable, even luxurious. It was definitely a far cry from what it had been when he was growing up.

The wards he had constructed which kept the house safe did much to impede access by muggles and other undesirables, but they were sadly no match for the curse breakers working as Unspeakables with the Department of Mysteries.

The look of rage on the Potions Master's face when he was cornered and stunned reminded more than one person of their time at Hogwarts. But it did not stop them from carrying out the final wishes of one of their own. Lily Evans had left instructions on what was to be done if she died without regaining her freedom, and no one was willing to let her down.

The continued in their task, knowing that the man they had summarily abducted would thank them in the end. After all, did he not have his and Evans' son to look after?

When Severus finally awoke, he was shocked to find himself not at home. The room he was in was fairly bare, and seemed almost clinical in appearance. Not at all happy about being forcibly taken away from his house, he sat up and moved as if to rise from the bed he'd found himself in.

A wave of dizziness stopped him in his tracks and he had to reach out a hand to the wall to steady himself. A sound of water rushing flooded his ears and he almost blacked out. All at once, his memories overtook him.

"Leave me alone, you – you mudblood!"

"No! You won't get rid of me that easily, Severus Snape. I can tell you're hurt, just let me help you!"

"Argh! Alright, fine! But you breathe one word of this Evans, and I swear..."

"I had no idea you felt this way..."

"Well, I didn't either, until summer came and I couldn't see you. Look, I didn't tell you before now because I thought you would avoid me. Please don't. I know you don't like me that way but if we could just..."

"Now where did you get that idea Evans... Lily? I expect if it was anyone else I would be running in the opposite direction. But it's not, it's you. It's always been you."

"Y-You mean?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"Of course I'll marry you!"

"Please don't cry! I know it's because you're happy, but you'll set me off and then where will we be?"

"Exactly where we are now, where we should be. Together."

"Yes, together."

"Severus, you're going to be a Daddy."