Disclaimer: I don't own HP and I think you'll find I'm not JK. If I were, why would I be writing a fanfic?

This chap dedicated to Bobbi

– For much needed inspiration and support… you know who you are

A/N: Um… thanks to Tori, Bobbi, Flick and Jerrrr… for their ongoing encouragement. Where would I be without you guys! And I know, I know… naughty me for not updating for ages – and on a cliffhanger too! I've been making some changes to the plot a bit, fiddling with it to make it perfect, so it took me a while to figure out how to write that. And this chapter goes a fair way into explaining what's up with Lily, as well as a few surprises. So, enjoy…


"Pardon me?" Harry asked, mentally blanking out. He gazed at the group of people that stood, shaking and apprehensive, before him. Mr Weasley cleared his throat.

"Grimmauld Place. We… we decided it would be the safest option for us…" Mr Weasley trailed off rather feebly, finishing his sentence with what Harry heard as a half-hearted 'mumble mumble'.

"Safest option," Harry repeated slowly. "Right, right. I suppose it makes sense." Harry had forgotten, again, that he owned Grimmauld Place, just as it had slipped his mind so easily at Hogwarts. He didn't really understand why he felt so shocked – after all, wasn't it he who suggested using it for the Order, when Dumbledore (he felt a pang of grief as he thought of the dead headmaster) had arrived at the Dursley's last year?

Harry broke his train of thought, walking over to the staircase and gesturing to Ginny. "We'll just go pack, then." He grabbed at Ginny's hand, and she gripped his tightly, startled. The pair walked up the stairs, hand in hand, until they reached the room that they had shared earlier that morning. Harry reached for the door handle, and turned it weakly. Ginny led him by the hand into the room, and turned to face him with her arms spread apart. He leaned into Ginny, allowing her to completely take his weight, and they stood there for a moment, Ginny just holding Harry, trying to absorb his pain and confusion.

They broke apart and took a moment to kiss before separating and filling their half-empty trunks with various items that lay discarded around the room. When they were done, Harry floated them through the door, and he and Ginny followed the trunks down the stairs to where the rest of the group was waiting patiently for their return. Mrs Weasley smiled briefly at the bewildered and exhausted group before her, before turning to the fireplace and grabbing a discarded Butterbeer bottle that hung next to it. She shook the bottle a few times, peering into the glass concernedly.

"Alright. Arthur, perhaps you should go first, hmmm?" She said coldly. Mr Weasley recoiled under his wife's angry glare and took a pinch of something out of the bottle. It was only then that Harry realised that they would be travelling with Floo Powder. Mr Weasley gave a quick grin, which went unnoticed by his wife, and threw the powder into the flames.

"Twelve Grimmauld Place." He shouted, and in a moment he was gone.

"Harry, dear, you next." Harry nodded and dragged his trunk over to the fireplace. He grabbed a pinch of powder, and yelled out his destination as he threw the powder into the fire around his feet. Harry sighed. His opinion of Floo Powder, as convenient as it was, hadn't changed much since he had first used it 5 years ago.

He still hated it.

When the entire group had safely arrived at Grimmauld Place, Ron, Hermione and Ginny took their trunks upstairs to the rooms that they had stayed in two years before. Harry stood at the bottom of the stairs, grasping his trunk handle, staring uncertainly at his mother.

"We need to talk some more." Harry said, deadpan. Lily nodded slowly.

"Is there a place we can talk?" she asked. Harry nodded, and lifted his arm to point to the top of the staircase. He levitated his trunk up the stairs, Lily walking behind him as though she were his shadow, and made it sink gently down onto the ground outside of the room that Ron and he had shared two years before. He then turned to the opposing door, which led into a spare bedroom, and turned the handle to let his mother in, trailing close behind. They sat, unsure, on the bed, and it was minutes before either of them spoke.

"I need you to explain the story, again." Harry said, determinedly unemotional. Lily sighed.

"I had a sister. Not Petunia, another sister. Rose." Harry stared in shock as he heard his mother say these words. Another sister. Rose.

"Why didn't Aunt Petunia ever mention her? Why did nobody ever mention her?"

"Petunia hated Rose, even more than she hated me, if it was possible. Because of Rose's friendship with me, even though I was magical, and her association with magical people, to Petunia she was worse than actually being a witch. She was a traitor. None of my non-Muggle friends knew about her, except James. We just didn't think anyone else should know."

And as Harry pondered this, he was suddenly and inexplicably reminded of an afternoon, before Harry even knew he was a wizard, when Harry had been locked in his cupboard and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had had a conversation outside the wooden door. He didn't know why he had so suddenly remembered that time – he usually went out of his way to forget his years at the Durley's. Harry remembered that they had spoken in hushed tones, as though conspiring with each other.

"Found out something today. In that explosion, there was rubble everywhere, and they found… Roses, dead. I tried to ask someone about it, no one knows what happened." Aunt Petunia had said with what Harry could just make out as a grim expression between the bars on the cupboard door. But the more that Harry thought about it, the more that 'Roses, dead' sounded like 'Rose is… dead'. Had his Aunt been talking about her sister? Admittedly, Harry had thought it a bit odd to be making such a fuss about some flowers, but passed it off as just being 'Aunt Petunia'. Harry's theory would also explain Uncle Vernon's startled reaction.

"We'll just forget about it, Petunia!"

Harry looked at his mother, who sat so nervously perched on the bed next to him, and he was granted sudden clarity. Though there was irrefutable evidence to suggest that it was actually his mother sitting before him, he had refused to believe it, for the simple reason that he didn't want to. Her being alive would mean Harry would have some of his family back again, but it would also mean that anything Harry ever believed and was told about his interaction with Voldemort would have to be reconsidered.

These thoughts flew out the window and Harry felt his heart beating faster and his eyes filling silently with tears.

"I believe you," Harry said, truly meaning it. Lily took one look at him and broke down into waves of sobs. "I believe you, mum. Oh God, I can't believe you're here. You're here!" He gave a little chuckle, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "When I was little, I used to think that you and dad would somehow miraculously turn up on the doorstep and take me away from the Dursley's. I never thought it would, you know, actually happen. But it has, and I'm… I'm really happy you're here." He finished. Lily smiled through her tears and pulled her sleeve up to wipe her eyes.

"I've been waiting for so long to see you Harry. Too long. I didn't even know what you would look like. You look like so much like James. But my eyes – you definitely have my eyes."

"I think I've heard that once or twice." Harry said dryly. Lily missed the sarcasm.

"Where was I?" Lily asked after a beat.

"You were talking about how Aunt Petunia hated her, because she was still friends with you. So she wasn't… she didn't go to Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"No. She was very bright, and her heart was in Muggle Science, so she stayed with mum and dad, went to Muggle school. But she didn't hate me like Petunia did, and stayed friends with me. On the night that James…" Her eyes swam, and she swallowed forcefully. "On the night that He came, Rose was at Godric's Hollow. She was seeing you, actually. To say goodbye. She was very ill, you see, and the doctors - or Healers – couldn't cure it or even diagnose it." Lily added quickly from Harry's questioning look.

"She was sick. Dying. So she drank the Polyjuice Potion. But how did you make it so fast?"

"We didn't make it on the spot," Lily said, tousling Harry's hair as though he were a precocious child. "James kept some hidden, always had a bottle on hand for a defence organisation that Dumbledore organised."

"Yeah, the Order." Harry said.

"You know about the Order?"

"There's one now. A new one. Not all the same members, of course…" Harry trailed off, feeling thoroughly miserable. He steered the conversation back on track. "So, Rose took the Polyjuice and changed into… you? And you into her," Harry said with realisation. "You swapped bodies. Then-"

"I left with you, disguised as Rose, and hid in an alley by the side of the road. I could hear them inside - Voldemort looking for you, Rose pleading and crying." Lily swallowed again.

"So, then what? How did I not end up with you?" Harry asked quietly.

"The Death Eaters attacked. They fired some curses at me, none of them actually hitting me. But then one came up to me, teasing, pursuing me down the alleyway alone. His mask slipped off, and it was someone I knew from school, someone I had believed was working for our side. I later realised that he was, after I woke up a few hours later, with a few cuts and bruises but nothing much worse. But James was... and you were gone." Lily buried her head in her hands, and Harry had a few awkward moments of comforting his mother as she cried.

"Who was the Death Eater, the one who didn't kill you?" He asked patiently, as soon as he thought she was capable of stringing words together without sobbing.

"An old enemy of your fathers, he was in Slytherin. His name was Snape. Severus Snape. I don't know if you'd know him."

Harry stared in numb shock. Snape. The Snape who Harry had seen, with his own eyes, murder Dumbledore earlier this year. The same one who was burned with the Dark Mark, who had taunted and insulted both Harry and his father. It seemed impossible to Harry that the same Snape that did those things would also spare his mother's life.

"Yeah. Yeah, I… I know him."

Harry and Lily left the room in fairly high but thoughtful spirits, walking hand in hand towards the staircase. Lily paused at the door to Harry's room, and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. She smiled, oblivious to the storm of confusion inside Harry's mind, and turned to go downstairs. Harry turned the doorknob and set his trunk down in the dank and dusty bedroom. He sat on the bed, staring determinedly at his knees. Hermione, Ron and Ginny exchanged anxious looks and something of a silent conversation evolved between them – each encouraging another to talk to the slouched figure sitting between them.

"I know what you're doing, you know," Harry spoke suddenly, startling his friends. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a complete idiot." Ginny grinned.

"That's right, he's not – though he does act it. According to popular belief." Harry threw a pillow at her, but Ginny's excellent Quidditch skills allowed her to duck and an unwary Ron got a face-full of goose feathers.

"My point is that you don't have to be all nervous around me. I'm not going to start screaming at you – well, I might, but you'll be all right." He added quickly from Hermione's incredulous look. Obviously she hadn't forgotten the small shouting match that went on between Harry and, well, Harry, when he had arrived at Grimmauld Place for the first time.

"You right, mate? Mum's gonna' have a fit when she sees you later. 'Oh, he's looking a bit peaky.' " Ron mimicked after he pulled several feathers and a harassed-looking duckling from his mouth. Hermione hit him. "What did you do that for?" Ron looked scandalised.

"Oh, for God's sake Ronald, I only hit you."

"Only hit- only hit me? You could have taken my arm off! It's definitely broken! Ow!" he added meekly. Hermione appeared to be unconvinced, rolling her eyes surreptitiously at Harry and Ginny when Ron scratched his nose.

"I'm going to go and look around a bit. You know… work out what's what?" Harry said, after sitting uncomfortably in silence for a few moments. Hermione and Ginny (but not so much Ron) knew Harry's real reason for wanting to look round. He wanted to find something to connect him with Sirius again, to find his spirit within the walls. So the three of them looked on as Harry walked moodily out of the room, and there was silence between the moth-eaten walls for a moment.

"Where's he going then?" Ron asked, oblivious to the incredulous looks he was receiving from both girls in the room.

"You, Ron Weasley, have got to be the least perceptive and most idiotic brother I have. Including Percy the Git." Ginny said with her nose stuck in the air.

Harry wandered around the darkened hallways, jumping at various unexpected creaks. He reached the drawing room, and paused for a moment in the doorway before deciding to move on. Slowly, with his steps heavily thudding underfoot, Harry made his way to the next ajar door in the hallway, and when he reached it he took a deep breath and walked in.

Inside the room was a bed with moth eaten covers that Harry tried to avoid – he didn't have any Doxy spray on him, or the venom antidote, and would have preferred to leave the room without having been attacked. There was a cardboard box resting against the wall on the other side of the room, and Harry made his way towards it. When he reached it, he crouched down and checked the box as thoroughly as he could without using his hands before lifting several heavy books from the box and placing them on the dirty carpet next to him.

He lifted the book on the top of the pile up and brought it up so that it was level with his eyes. The cover was black, but felt smooth, which heightened Harry's suspicion.

"Specialis Revelio." He said smartly, clasping his wand and tapping the book cover gently. Nothing happened.

Satisfied, Harry pinched the edge of the cover gently and opened the book. His stomach seemed to drop several inches – it was Sirius' diary.

18th March

Prongs asked Lily out again today. She didn't go for it – called him a "pig-headed arrogant moron". Never heard that one before but managed to stop myself laughing. Feel kinda sorry for the guy, he tries so hard.

Slughorn getting on my nerves. Told me my hiccoughing solution too strong. I don't see what the problem was, it stopped his hiccoughs well enough. Okay, it was bright green, and it did dissolve the bottom of my cauldron, but I thought my effort was good. Moony got it perfect, of course. Snape sat in the corner, and whatever he was working on, it wasn't a hiccoughing solution.

Harry automatically gripped the edge of the parchment tighter at the mention of Snape.

Got into the kitchens. Got caught by Dumbledore, but he gave me that smile, and walked on. Lucky it wasn't anyone else.

Regulus isn't going well. He's getting all these detentions for skipping his classes. I think I know what he's up to. If anyone should be called a moron, it's him. Dear old mum would be proud if she knew. He's trying to keep it top secret, but failing, if I know about it. I'm pretty sure he's sneaking out to-

Harry turned the page over, but there was nothing else written there. The text had just abruptly stopped. Silently cursing the page, Harry grabbed it and ran into his room, relieved to find that the others had ventured through the main hall and into the kitchen for some lunch. His stomach rumbled at the thought of it.

He reached for some spare parchment and a discarded ballpoint in his trunk, and carefully copied the diary entry. When Harry searched for others in the book, he only found pages of blank parchment. He made a mental note to ask Lupin about it as soon as he saw him next.

Getting up to go downstairs, Harry was troubled by a great lot of commotion coming from the entrance. Someone must have rung the doorbell and woken the insane portrait of Sirius' mother, who was presently wailing something about Mudbloods invading the "Noble House of Black". Harry walked quietly down the stairs, and turned a corner to see Mr Weasley talking to someone at the front door. Harry, overcome by curiosity, stepped behind Mr Weasley to peer over his shoulder and somewhere in the back of his brain he instantly regretted doing this.

He raged forward, trying to reach over Mr Weasley's shoulder and pull himself through to the front door, but was unable to reach as Mr Weasley, who was remarkably quick on the uptake, restrained Harry and held him behind his back.

His memory catapulted back to the conversation that he had with his mother, and Harry could only say one word, a single unrelenting word that reverberated callously through his mind.

That word…

…was 'Snape'.


A/N: What did you think guys? Evil cliffy… What do you think is gonna happen? Give it a go – tell me your theories in your reviews. I'm interested – and there's a pressiein it for anyone that does. Be really creative… I know all of you guys are! Until next time… ciao…