Nope, still don't own them. Darn!

A/N: I always thought Vernon's hatred of Harry was really over-the-top, so made a reason for it.

Harry sat on his bed in Dudley's second bedroom. This had been a pretty shitty summer so far. Today was his fifteenth birthday. Granted, it had only been July 31st for two minutes, but it was still his birthday. What had made the summer so shitty was that Ron and Hermione had barely written to him all summer, Dudlely, who had become an unexpected ally, along with Uncle Vernon, who had always protected him behind his aunt's back, had only been able to drug Petunia twice to make sure that he ate and to catch up with him. They had done it tonight and were due in his room in a few minutes.

Vernon had, after figuring out that his wife was taking out her jealousy and hatred of ther sister on a child that had only had the misfortune of being born to a witch and a wizard, perfected the art of contrived hatred. To put it simply, he acted as though he hated Harry whenever there was a chance of Petunia seeing or hearing. He'd given up hope on Dudley ever freeing himself from his mother's clutches, when, during the Christmas holidays, he and Petunia had went away for the weekend to a conference and Marge had been unavailable, so they'd left him with Mrs. Figg. When they'd returned, Dudley had sought him out, making the excuse of wanting to go out for an ice cream, just the two of them. When they had gotten into the car, Dudley had said he'd had no idea how much Harry had been through and that he wanted to be nicer to him.

Harry was jerked out of his reverie by a flash of light. Fawkes dropped a letter on his bed, then was gone in another flash. Harry reached for the letter and opened it.

Harry--

Birthday greetings to you. I apologize for the fact that Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley have barely written to you this summer. That is my fault, I'm afraid. It is too dangerous to risk putting anything in letters sent by owl of any substance. However, they send their greetings and well-wishes.

This brings me to my true purpose for writing to you. Within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, you will recieve some interesting and startling news. Take it with good humor and with an open mind. Remember that nothing is black and white. Also, be sure to have your things accessible. You may be leaving unexpectedly.

Harry put the letter aside as the bolts on his door were being undone and Vernon and Dudley stole quietly into the room with a six-pack of sodas in hand. They closed the door behind them and made their way over to him. "Happy Birthday," Dudley whispered.

"Thanks."

They were sitting on the floor talking when suddenly, a box about a foot wide, long, and deep appeared in front of Harry with a letter attatched to the top of it. The letter had Harry's name on it, with the instructions to read it before opening the box.

"Well, what is it?" Vernon asked him.

"One way to find out." With slightly shaking hands, Harry opened the letter.

Dear Harry,

This is the first time I've written you, and probably will be the only time. If you are recieving this letter, two things have happened: 1. I am dead, and 2. You have been raised to believe that I am your father. Unfortunately, though I am currently raising you, and watching you teethe on Sirius' wand, I am not your father. I am not even married to your mother. That honor belongs to a man named Severus Snape.

Now, if the two of you know each other, you both probably hate each other. (No shit! Harry thought) That's not his fault or yours. His memory has been modified from our fifth year onward. So he hates me, Sirius, and Remus with a passion, and believes he lost your mother's friendship fifth year.

Now for the truth. he didn't lose your mother's friendship. She always saw through the facade he'd built around himself, maybe because she knew what he went through outside of school. The incident with Remus and Sirius really did happen, and I really did stop Sev from going through to the Shrieking Shack. Lily, Remus, and I ripped Sirius a new one about that, and he eventually sought Sev out and apologized. Within a couple of months, we had built a tenuous friendship, and Lily and Sev started dating. This didn't mean that all was well, however. Sev had already joined the Death Eaters. His self-loathing was so great that a couple of months into our seventh year, he attempted suicide. Eventually, we were able to convince him that it didn't matter and that we were still his friends, and he began working for Dumbledore.

Eventually he and your mother married, and you were concieved. It was a secret wedding; Dumbledore married them, and Sirius, Remus, and I were the only witnesses.

When things in the war grew worse and the prophecy was released, for everyone's safety, Dumbledore modified Sev's memories (with his knowledge and consent), and Lily and I publicly "married" each other. You were born seven months later. We just hoped that it would be temporary. The fact that you are recieving this letter show that it was not. You have glamours on you that will gradually fade between the ages of eleven and seventeen. It merely replaced any of the features you inherited from Sev with mine. (He'll be very happy to know you didn't get his nose.)

Now I ask you to get to know Sev. The REAL Sev, not the facade, not the man who you've probably spent any part of your aquaintance hating. If I know him as well as I think I do, he's really torn up inside about all of this, so go easy on him. PLEASE forgive him, and know that he was ecstatic when your mother told him she was pregnant with you (though we had to pick him up off the floor when it finally sank in), and theclosest I've ever seen him to crying was when we discussed the memory modification. Please go forward with him. Remus and Sirius, if they are still around, will be glad to help you in understanding him. We never let Peter in on this, because we had distanced ourselves from him, and Sev and Lily both are not fond of him.

What's in the box? Several photograph albums. Your parents when they were children, teenagers, dating, etc..., and albums detailing Lily's pregnancy, your birth, and your life up until now, your first birthday. I'd promised that to Sev. Look at all of them, and then give them to him. Be prepared to SHOW him the past doesn't matter, I don't know, give him a hug or something! Anyhow, from here on out, it's up to you.

James

Harry put the letter down, gaping in shock. He handed the letter to Vernon and Dudley, who both read it.

"I knew something was different about the way you'd look each year when you came back. I guess you'll be leaving soon then," Vernon said.

"Probably. I'm kind of nervous. He's probably worse off. Probably thinks I'm going to hate him or something. I've never hated him, I just don't understand him, and he's always seemed to hate me."

"You know him?" Dudley asked.

"Yeah. He's my Potions professor. You know, the one that always gave me a hard time, yet still tried to keep us from getting killed every year."

"Do you want to look at the albums alone?" Vernon asked.

"Not really. This is still kind of shocking, you know?" Harry opened the box and pulled out the albums. He opened the oldest one, and the three of them gathered around it. It started off with elementary school pictures of a pretty red-haired girl and a skinny and neglected-looking boy. There were pictures of the children playing, reading, and even a really cute one of two six-year-olds sleeping.

Moving through the albums, the two children grew up, made friends with James, Sirius, and Remus, got married, and were expecting.

The last two albums detailed Lily's pregnancy, Harry's birth, and Harry's early life up to his first birthday.

By this time it was almost four in the morning.

"You'll need time to deal with this. I'll tell Petunia that you're to stay in here today because I caught you doing something 'freaky' to Dudley. Dudley, you'll act suitably frightened. Got it?" They got up.

"Thanks."

After they left, Harry flopped down on the bed and re-read the letter. Suddenly, the fact that Ron and Hermione hadn't written much seemed very insignificant. Now, how he and Snape...er...his father would get on was a much bigger concern. Starting with what to call him; "Father" was too formal, "Dad" he wasn't too sure about, and "Daddy" was too juvenile. He'd probably start off with "sir" and after surveying the situation, just ask. Then there was Voldemort. That was a concern with no resolution, so he wasn't going to think too hard on it right now.

That was how he spent the next day: thinking, processing, and looking at the albums. He hadn't realized how much better Snape looked when he was actually smiling, then he realized that their smiles were similar.

Keeping Dumbledore's letter in mind, he gathered up his few things and resolved to wait for any further information. At about six in the morning on August 1st, he got it: an owled not in Snape's spiky handwriting.

I will arrive at noon. Be ready. We will have much to discuss, so we are going to a more neutral and protected site.