We begin this story in a castle hidden far from muggles, deep within the mountains of England, land uncharted by the non magical folk of the land. In this castle, a village just a short walk away inhabited by the same type of people, lived magical folk. They called themselves wizards and witches. Of course, these people resembled nothing like the witches and wizards of muggle tales. They weren't green, didn't have boils, didn't cackle ominously and eat small children - in most cases - and didn't run about in extravagant robes and grow long beards. Though, thinking about the Headmaster of the castle, that wasn't entirely true. Otherwise, witches and wizards like you and I.

No, the only difference was they were able to perform extraordinary things without the use of our technology. They could make objects float, they could clean things with a flick of a stick, they could summon objects to them, they could transport through fireplaces, they could enchant paintings to be alive, etc…

But let us diverge from the magical race as a whole and focus on this castle which, by the way, is known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. Within, their lived a select few whom chose to remain here year round, perhaps leaving only to visit family or their homes they wished not to stay in. One of these individuals went by the name of Severus Snape.

He was a dark and unpleasant fellow. He took pleasure in torturing his students(though he had only been a teacher for one year, most of his students children he himself had gone to school with); he was the potions professor at this fine institute. His midnight hair fell in limp strands a little past his shoulders and his dark eyes, undeniably black, would peer out from those greasy locks. His sharp, large, pale nose poked out to stand prominently in attention. Through the dark curtain, one was always sure to see his customary sneer or scowl of disdain.

It was on the summer of 1980, right before school was starting and right after the Potter child was born, that he decided a visit to his childhood home was in order. He left his quarters in the castle with nothing and Apparated right outside of the castle gates to an alley near his home. He had set up wards around his home so that none could enter by Apparation.

Walking down the street, he tugged uncomfortably at the sleeves of his stark white button up shirt. He had taken off his cloaks before leaving so as to blend in. Unfortunately, it had never been comfortable for him to dress as a muggle and it had been so very long since he had forced himself to do so. His eyes shifted uneasily around the street. He walked quicker down the dark, dingy street until his sad shack of a home came in view, cramped between two equally disgusting homes.

Let me take a moment, reader, to tell you of Sir Snape's home. He lived at the end of Spinners End, a once illustrious place with many families. But, as all things do, London's center of business shifted away and the area began to fall to ruins. The place was dark and frightening, a most dangerous place with suspicious characters at every turn. Most of the houses were left abandoned, a figurative time bomb waiting to let the rotten houses fall in a heap to the ground.

Yet again I diverge. Snape, by now, had nearly reached his door when his foot stubbed softly onto something. Quickly, the man stopped and looked down to his feet, nothing but air in front of them. He frowned, his forehead scrunching before he pulled an ebony stick - a wand - from his endless pockets and waved it about with murmured words even I could not pick up. Moments later and a basket appeared, a covered ball of something slowly rising and lowering steadily.

Snape had blinked down to the thing for a few moments before, with a quick glance around him, opened the door and levitated the basket into his dilapidated home. He set the basket down gently on a table and sat beside it on a hard wooden chair. It was at this time that he discovered the crisp role of parchment tucked neatly inside the basket by the bundle. Carefully, he extracted it and rolled it open.

Dear Severus Snape,

By now you have discovered the child I have left at your home. It is my child, you are the father. After our drunken fling, I discovered I was pregnant. It took me quite a time to discover that you were the father (I had to wait until the child was born). It took me even longer to find you. The child was born last year, September 19, 1979. It is a girl, in case you are too incompetent enough to discover that yourself. I have not named the child, that is up to you. I don't want the child, I never have, never did, and never will. Don't come looking for me to take it back. What you do with her is up to you. Please, I ask of you, do not come looking for me.

Goodbye.

Snape stared at the letter, if one could call it that, for a long time before he remembered to breath. Hastily, he reached over and pulled the blanket back to reveal a small figure with blue eyes beginning to change to brown, staring up at him. Calmly, the babe continued to breath, watching with wide eyes as Snape sat back heavily against his chair. He stared at the child for a long time before he stood quickly, startling the baby. He glanced down and, after pocketing his wand and the short missive, plucked the baby up with her blankets. He adjusted the child until it rested in the crook of his arm and he swiftly left his home to return to the alley so that he could speak with the Headmaster of Hogwarts: Albus Dumbledore.

This, dear readers, is where I leave you so that you may plunge alone into this tale of love and lost, betrayal and trust, past and present, and right and wrong.

-^.^-

A/N: Alright, this is my jump back into writing. I know I took a really long time off, but I'm getting back into the hang of it. I will start updating my other stories once I shed my rust. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this story, I know it's not that great.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR IT'S CHARACTERS.