Passion of the Snake

A Snarry Story

A/N: Thank you everyone so much for all of the kind reviews as well as the new favorites and follows I received! An extra thank you for all of the people that stuck by this story through everything it's been through so far the past couple of years, it means the world to me. As such, this chapter is dedicated to you guys! And of course another huge shout out to my wonderful beta, All Tears Must Fall! Enjoy everyone!

Chapter One: When You Were Young

"Harry!"

Said wizard groaned, rolling over in his bed. He was slowly starting to gain consciousness, but all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. It was still too early for him to get up... It was the weekend after all.

"Harry, wake up!"

Harry grumbled into his pillow, pulling his comforter up over his head. His mother was going to drive him crazy with all her shouting.

His mother...

Lily Potter.

His mother - who was dead, which meant he-

Was he dead?

Suddenly everything came rushing back to him, all of his memories washing over him. The invasion made his brain feel like it was splitting in two, and Harry buried his face into the pillow beneath him to muffle his cry of distress. His fingers clutched at his temples, trying to relieve the pain as he writhed on his bed in agony.

Each new memory that replayed across his eyelids shocked his system like electricity, adding to the ever increasing pressure that made his head feel like it was going to burst any moment. He recalled bits and pieces as they filtered past, watching some of his happiest and worst memories like they were a film.

Waking up in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley's; getting to read his Hogwarts letter; bonding with Hedwig; his first Qudditch match; saving the Philosopher's Stone; meeting Dobby; learning he was a Parselmouth; destroying Tom Riddle's diary; riding Buckbeak; meeting the Marauders; his name being drawn from the Goblet of Fire; watching Voldemort rise again; kissing Cho; teaching DA lessons; learning the prophecy; Sirius dying; using the Half-Blood Prince's potion book; Snape killing Dumbledore; hunting for Horcruxes; escaping Gringott's; Voldemort's army invading the grounds of Hogwarts; Snape dying; using the pensieve; falling, falling, falling...

And as quickly as it began, the pain vanished, leaving Harry panting and exhausted as he tried to recover from the onslaught. He rolled over onto his back, gasping in fresh air, his head still throbbing. Harry kept his eyes tightly clenched, but a few stubborn tears leaked out the corners and trickled down the sides of his face.

"Harry James Potter, don't make me come up these stairs and get you up myself!"

There was no way that could be a figment of his imagination. With shaky arms, Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position before clearing his throat of the phlegm that settled there in his sleep.

"I'm up, Mum!" He called down to her, however his voice was an octave too high. Brows furrowed, Harry reached out blindly to his right to try and find his glasses. Once located, he placed them on his face and was able to get a good look at the room he was in.

Sun was filtering through sheer golden curtains, which meant his room was facing the East. There was a small desk nestled under the windowsill, bare except for a half melted candle in a brass holster, a quill, and a small vat of ink. The walls were painted a neutral off-white, however there was a vast amount of Gryffindor memorabilia that seemed to be taking over. The walls were covered in Quidditch pennants, and his bed was centered underneath a tapestry of the Gryffindor crest on the south wall, facing a fireplace with a racing broom on the mantle.

All of the woodwork seemed to be made especially for this room as it was all made of the same cherrywood. A wardrobe stood to the right of his ornately carved four-poster bed and a nightstand was placed to the left of it. A bookshelf full of First year spell books and fairy tales was residing in the corner of the north wall to the right of the fireplace, and a shelf with coat hangers was mounted on the wall next to his door. A Gryffindor House scarf was hanging from one hook, as well as a black cloak that seemed five sizes too small for him. Harry tossed the maroon quilt off his lap, and stood from his bed, toes curling into a maroon and gold rug. This couldn't possibly be his room. It looked like it belonged to someone who was just about to be leaving for Hogwarts.

Harry searched under his pillow for Snape's wand, however it was no where to be found. It wasn't under the bed either. Nearly stubbing his toe on a trunk at the foot of his bed, he confirmed his initials were on the front and grumbled to himself as he unlatched and opened it to find it completely empty. No wands, no invisibility cloak, no Marauder's map, no mirror shard, nothing. Now he was starting to panic.

He rushed over to his wardrobe to find some decent clothes to put on to go find out what was going on, only to stop dead in front of a freestanding full length mirror in the corner of his room as he got a glimpse of his reflection.

A small scrawny boy that looked no older than eleven, with wild brown hair, so dark it was almost black, emerald green eyes hidden behind big round glasses, and dressed in white pajamas with red and gold pinstripes was staring back at him. Hands shaking, he reached up to pinch his cheeks and was horrified to find his reflection mimicking him. He stumbled closer, pushing up his fringe to find his forehead bare.

What the hell was happening? Was there a De-Aging potion in that pensieve? But where was his scar?

Trying to smother his anxiety the best he could, Harry didn't even bother changing before fleeing his room and going down the hall to the stairwell. He didn't get very far before he stopped in his tracks at the top of the stairs, eyes wide in awe as he stared at the woman standing at the bottom. She was a head taller than him, with firey auburn locks that were pulled back away from her face, and stunning green eyes that matched his own, lit with anger. She was dressed in Muggle clothing: black cotton capri pants, a lilac blouse, and a denim jacket. She had her hands on her hips in a classic "angry mum" pose, tapping her foot.

"How many times do I have to call for you, Harry?" She questioned. Harry couldn't stop the tears from welling up, overwhelmed with emotion from seeing his mother for the first time in the flesh.

"M-mum?" He stuttered, and Lily's annoyed look relaxed into one of concern.

"Harry, hun, what's wrong?"

"Mum!" He shouted, feeling ever the eleven year old, as he barreled down the stairs toward her and came crashing into Lily. She wrapped her arms around him the best she could as they fell, Lily landing on her back with Harry crying uncontrollably into her chest. She pet his hair as she tried to soothe him, whispering encouraging words.

Hearing the front door open, Lily tilted her head back to see James walking in, dressed in Auror robes. He had just returned from an over night raid and she was sure he was exhausted. She gave her husband a smile in response to the confused look on his face at the sight of the two of them on the floor in the entry way.

"What's going on?" James asked, taking off his outer robe and hanging it up on the coat rack next to the door. Sniffling, Harry lifted his head from the crook of his mother's neck, croaking out a questioning. "Dad?"

James knelt down next to his wife and son, brushing Harry's fringe back away from him face. Before he could ask if he was okay, Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around his father's middle, tears flowing again. Lily was rubbing her hand in circles on Harry's back, trying to calm him down again. She exchanged glances with her husband, shrugging to convey she had no idea what had come over their son.

"Harry," James murmured. He thought he might know what was going on. "Is this about Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts?" Harry croaked out, lifting his head from his father's chest.

James nodded, continuing. "I know you were worried about what House you were going to be sorted into. Are all these tears because of that?"

This was definitely not because of something as trivial as that. He was finally meeting his parents. After years of every one around him expressing how much he was like them, he was getting to find out first hand. He was going to savor every moment he had with them until he figured out what was going on. However, he couldn't tell Lily and James any of that, so he figured he was just going to roll with the alibi they were giving him.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, forcing a blush on his face to try and look embarrassed.

"There is nothing to worry about, Harry. There's never been a Potter sorted in any place other than Gryffindor." James grinned, ruffling his sons hair.

Lily rolled her eyes, getting to her feet as she helped her son up off the floor.

"You know, James, I wouldn't get ahead of yourself just yet. He does take after me and Ravenclaw wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

His Mum was in Ravenclaw? Things definitely weren't the same.

Lily started to walk out of the room and James pouted, steering Harry to follow his mother into their kitchen.

"No, of course not, love." James murmured into his wife's hair and kissed her cheek. "I'm going to go and freshen up."

Lily nodded in response, heading over to the refrigerator. Harry noticed there was an assortment of Muggle and Wizard items in the kitchen, a perfect blend of the two family backgrounds.

"Are you ready for breakfast, Harry?" She asked, pulling out a carton of eggs and a slab of bacon.

"'Course, Mum." He made his way over to the Muggle stove where a cast iron skillet was resting and flicked on the gas, picking up the bacon and unwrapping it. "I can cook this."

Lily gave him an incredulous look. "Since when can you cook?" She blurted and Harry dropped the tongs he had grabbed, startled. He'd never cooked?

"Yeah, uh. I watched a show on the telly?" He sent a quick prayer up to Merlin that they owned a television.

Lily seemed to take the answer well and Harry shooed her away from the stove. "I got this, Mum." He told her, remembering all the times he made breakfast for his "family."

She relented, going over to their kitchen table and picking up the cup of coffee she had left there to settle down and watch her son cook.

To say Lily was surprised by how easily Harry maneuvered around the kitchen was an understatement. The young wizard had showed no interest in cooking before today. After the episode earlier, and now this, she had a feeling that something was not right. Taking another sip of her drink, she hid the frown that now marred her features. She would have to have a talk with James later.

She had to refrain from jumping when she felt a hand on the small of her back as her husband sat down beside her.

"Is he feeling ok?" James asked her quietly, motioning toward Harry who was whipping up a pancake batter.

Lily shrugged, however before she could respond Harry placed a mug of coffee before James, as well as the containers of cream and sugar.

She watched as he retrieved the pot and refilled her own cup and made one of his own before returning with platters full of steaming fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and piles of pancakes. He sat down the butter and syrup next to the assortment and, before slowing down, Harry put plates and silverware before his parents and made up his own place setting.

"Breakfast is served!" Harry announced with a grin.

James' brows rose up to his hair line in surprise by the amount of food sitting before them. It all looked and smelled delicious. When did his son learn how to cook?

It was a question to be asked at a later date. Right now he was starving and the post should be arriving soon.

"Harry, would you mind opening the window so the Ministry owl doesn't run into it?"

Harry nodded, moving over to the window behind his mother's seat and opening it. The bird in question was soaring along the horizon toward their home and Harry took a moment to view the houses surrounding theirs.

He felt his heart clench as a wave of emotion slammed into him at the fact he recognized they were living in Godric's Hollow. His imagination was really messing with him now.

He blinked away the few stray tears that came to his eyes and held his arm out for the snowy owl that reminded him so much of Hedwig. James handed him the appropriate amount of money for the delivery and Harry tucked the coins into the pouch on the bird's leg and removed the Daily Prophet.

Before James could ask for the paper, Harry was sitting down and unrolling it, intrigued to see what year it was and what was going on in this Wizarding World.

Harry refrained from cringing when he saw the date: May 2nd 1991 scrawled across the top of the front page. So he hadn't had his 11th birthday. He knew he should have expected as much because his father mentioned being sorted at Hogwarts, but it still sent a jolt of panic through his system. He was defenseless and his magic was too inexperienced to protect him against Voldemort.

The thought of the Dark Lord made Harry's brow furrow as he scoured the Prophet to find there was no mention of him.

Instead, any mention of strange happenstances was said to have been caused by Gellert Grindlewald and his mystery partner, the darkest wizards of their time: The Dark Ones.