In which Severus Snape meets the friends of James Potter. He continues to be less than impressed.


Two days after my meeting the original Severus Snape for the first time, a man from adoption services arrived at Dinsmore to finish paperwork with Pandora. Both James and I entered the kitchen where papers were strewn about the table where both adults sat, asking and answering questions.

James boldly marched over and wiggled onto Pandora's lap. He openly stared at the legal papers. I stood at Pandora's side and looked up at the man. I never learned what the man's name was, but I do not care. James and I silently listened to the conversation.

"The boy's name here, here, and here," the man said, pointing at separate lines on two different papers. As Pandora's quill touched the paper, James leaned forward and peered at the writing.

"What's all of Sev's name?" he asked curiously.

"Severus Dominic Potter," Pandora replied absently as she began to write.

I felt chilled when I realized I did not want James' name. I did not want to be a part of him, beholden to James for something that I had always wanted. I wanted Pandora's name, but not her name, necessarily. I remembered the man I was named for first, with his cheerful devil-be-damned-with-the-rest-of-the-world attitude and his belief in exceptions to every rule. I wanted to have the same name as my grandfather, not the same name as the person Pandora said was my brother. "No," I said. This startled the others. I felt slightly uncomfortable at having gained their attention as my gutter rat's instincts rose to the surface. I felt a lump grow in my throat, but I could not stop; I would not stop. Something within me demanded to have that name. "I don't want to be a Potter," I said.

The man rolled his eyes in irritation and leaned forward. "Your legal papers have already been signed," he said testily and slowly, as if he thought I was a simple-minded child like Sirius, "it's too—" Pandora silenced him with a single wave of her hand and a quick glance. James solemnly watched and witnessed.

"Why do you wish not to be a Potter?" Pandora asked softly as she stroked James' hair. "I'm one."

"You married a Potter. I want to be a Snape." I held my breath as her eyebrows dropped sharply downward and she crinkled her brow in thought. I also wanted to choose something in my name. I wanted to have some margin of control over my life. Yet there was still the unknown need to have the name; a need I could not understand. I felt giddy with excitement, and dread that I had gone too far.

Pandora finally reached out and tapped the papers with her stubby fingers. "How long can this wait?"

"I-I don't know… Why?"

"I need to see my lawyer about Severus' birth certificates."

"But you can't!" Pandora leaned back in her chair as the man burst out. His face flooded red in anger and he glared at me instead of looking directly at Pandora. "The papers were made for him to bear your name as he had none, and the name should match your own to fit the adoption papers!"

Pandora pointed her wand, always kept tucked in her apron's front pocket, at the pile of papers and muttered something I could not distinguish. The papers snapped together into a neat pile. The man looked at her with wide eyes and she pointed her wand at the kitchen door. It swung open. "If Severus wants my father's full family name, he shall have my father's full family name. I shall see you again soon. Have a nice day."

The man huffed and left in a dark mood.

Though difficult, Pandora did as I wished in assuring that I would be a Snape. When asked why she wished to change her mind, she explained to the people she already had a child for the Potter heritage. It had occurred to her, she said, that if she were to adopt, why not do so with the Snape surname? After all, she was the last and it was a fine name to bestow upon a gutter rat.

Almost too fine, as it seemed to many people.

Some families believed I should have remained Severus Potter, grandson of the Muggleborn who happened to be in the right place and the right time with the right contraption to seize Pandora's interest and heart. After all, what would it look to those families who could trace their ancestors through the Snape line because of marriage and distant relationships if a gutter rat — a deplorable, vermin-laden, disease-carrying, filthy bastard get of a whore — was to continue this illustrious bloodline without a single drop of Snape blood in his veins? After all, it was bad enough the last of the Snapes married a mudblood rather than someone from one of the other prominent wizard families.

About here I would like to mention how you are cousins — seven or eight times removed, I could never keep track — to Draco Malfoy. Now, mind you, the real Severus Snape did not mind my presumptuous askance for his name. Indeed, he was very proud about the whole affair and would readily brag to anyone who cared to listen, which was a sore few persons. He usually satisfied himself with telling Francis how proud he was of me as Francis, absent-minded and certainly not listening, tinkered away.

There is no love lost between either myself, as a Snape, or Lucius and Draco, as Malfoys. Indeed, were it not for Lucius, I would not have been forced into making the decision of being a Death Eater. Needless to say, I am bitter towards the man. He should be suspended by his toes from the branches of the Whomping Willow alongside Lockhart. I can stand Draco to a certain degree; he is an instrument of mine for revenge against Lucius.

To Pandora, I was as much a Snape as she, and it did not matter if sewage flowed through my veins rather than the bluest of all bloods. She would not permit others to think less of me for it, and certainly refused to let any notion of inferiority get me down, if such a thing ever happened. Which it did not. Henceforth she did not say "my" to mean her Snape family and all that they did, she would say, "our".

"Our family is longstanding in pride, Severus, we should remember it is not because of our power nor our bloodlines that make it so, but because we so chose to determine that our family is the foundation of our strength."

I adore those words; not because she included me as if I had been born into the Snape family with the automatic rights to being everything they were and all they had, but because I have rarely heard anything more wisely said.

Harry, you come from a proud family possessing a great honour, wealth, and strength. Perhaps you may find that depressing, for not only do you now have to live up to your "Boy Who Lived" image for your absurd mass of drooling, mindless fans, but also because you have learned of the greatness of your family to which you must now aspire.

Do not think thus. Do not ever think thus. It is exactly as Pandora stated: "We so chose to determine that our family is the foundation of our strength." Oliver Potter once told me never to live up to being like someone else, for I have the rights only to surpass myself. You cannot, nor should not, try to be as noble as any of your family. Use their past exploits, their won honours, and their own heroic deeds, as the foundation for your own.

Perhaps this is difficult for me to explain. We are what we wish to be influenced as. We may manipulate the input of experience we receive to create the output of what we chose to learn and take from the experience. We are what we make ourselves. I was a gutter rat, the very dredge of mankind. Yet I would aspire to be greater than that; I used my background to mould myself into what I am today. Because I knew what it was like to have nothing — no hope, no possessions, no honour, and no love or friendship — I used those memories to work hard to gain and to earn what I now have.

This is the foundation that gave me ambition. Like this, one can use the memories and tales of one's family members to create a ladder in which to climb to success. In times past, when I was both a Death Eater and when I survived Azkaban, I lent upon the strength of the Snape family and past experiences. It was not the usual questions others may ask, such as, "What would they have done?" or "What would they think of me if I give up?" I did not do what I did to become them, for I would make myself what I am. I did what I did for them, to honour their memory and their own sense of dignity as people who loved me.

You may be like Pandora, cunning and sly. You may be like Francis, brilliant and naïve. Or you may be like your father, strong and honourable.

Or you can be yourself, such that Pandora or Francis or James may look at you and say, "Yes, that is uniquely Harry Potter."

The Snapes and Potters made their way in the world, full of energy and ambition, to wrestle with fate only to bounce right back on to their feet and be ready for the next obstacle hurled into their pathway. You can and you do follow in their footsteps; not the footsteps of greatness, for true greatness may only be attained through your own deeds and not by leaching off of someone else's exploits. Your family nurtured a dignified self-integrity; through that definition, your actions are reflected as such, so your family then becomes the foundation of your strength.

"It is a Potter thing to fight," so many a person said of James' decision to become an Auror. Indeed it was; but the habit in which he fought was that of the Snape family, and James borrowed that to build his foundation of strength. You yourself often lend from your father's and mother's memories for strength and dedication. By doing this, you do not make yourself live up to them, but use them for the examples they set.

Now, James, in and of himself, was not too bad of a person, I suppose. In retrospect, I have known far worse.

I did eventually come to love him in my own way. He was my brother and I never would have purposefully endangered him. However, we were not close. I could not tell you what were his favourite colour, his happiest memory, or most-liked dessert. I never thought it necessary to ask; he never felt is necessary to tell. Nor, I think, did either of us really care.

Let it not be said though that we could not or did not depend on one another. Through blood and by the common bond we shared by loving Pandora as our mother, it was enough to warrant dedication to one another. If James was removed from the presence and influence of Sirius, he and I got along splendidly. Sometimes. Maybe.

Actually, we usually were usually at each other's throats when Pandora's neutral and calming presence was sorely missed.

Unfortunately, James and Sirius might as well have been Siamese twins, so attached they were to one another. Between the two of them, they managed to spend more than 95 of all waking hours together at either Dinsmore, Sirius' family's home, Remus' family home, or wherever else they cared to cause trouble.

As I rarely could put up with the nonsense Sirius constantly displayed, it was not often we were together at all. However, Pandora believed in outings to the Muggle world, saying it was vital for us to know about the Muggles, for they were too dangerous not to be understood. She often took us to parks, museums, fairs, restaurants, and theatres in an attempt to "Muggle-culture" us. And by us, I mean both myself, James, and any neighbourhood child who were still clinging to the back of Pandora's buggy as we rode off to the railroad station.

With the Snape wealth, Pandora could well afford to take more than a dozen children to a zoo. All would listen to what she had to say and Muggles often commended her on her very well behaved grandchildren. Indeed, it was not unusual for Pandora to gather all seventeen of the scattered neighbourhood children to London if they were present at Dinsmore on holiday, bored and knowing that Pandora could be talked into for something nice.

Dinsmore itself was a rather large cottage, a manor perhaps, that sat upon a hill. Growing around the hill was a forest, and in separate areas of this forest, dotted here and there in patches of sparse growth where the trees had been cut back, were homes of other wizards and witches. Because of the terror Voldemort slowly created through Europe, it was decided in the wizarding world that it was safer for people to live in groups. And nowhere was it safer to live than in the shadow of someone with a Pandora-like influence over Voldemort, if any.

During the rise of Voldemort's power, many wizarding families moved to this area. Indeed, the next time you go to the Barrow and see the Weasley family, walk eight kilometres northeast, and you shall find the blackened remains of that homey cottage in which your father and I grew up.

The families that moved to the area more often than not had children and, as a result, neither James nor I ever had want for a playmate. If one walked out the backdoor of Dinsmore and hopped over the fence, there lived Frank Longbottom and his mother, a woman divorced and remarried more times than I care to remember. Out the front door led to the Lupins' residence and three more homes, and if one snuck out James' bedroom window and directly over the fence there, one would find one's self just a few hundred meters from where Sirius lived with his family.

There were few neighbourhood children I got along with; Frank Longbottom was one of them, and Remus, when he was not with Sirius. All things considering, Remus and James together was not an awful pairing. Remus' calm and cool nature often overrode James' desire for mischief and the two of them would instead explore the surrounding countryside, such as the woods or the tunnels dug beneath Dinsmore by past generations of eccentric Snapes. I enjoyed being invited along such explorations, rare as they were.


As Pandora was a highly regarded member of the wizarding world and as she was well versed with Muggles, she volunteered with the Ministry of Magic to introduce the idea to Muggle parents that their precious child was a wizard or a witch.

That is something few people ever give thought. Yes, when a child comes to Hogwarts and says, "I am Muggle-born but I'm attending this school to be a wizard/witch," it is generally accepted. You yourself may have been surprised to learn you were to attend a school for wizards, and it was not well-met with your family, despite the Dursleys being familiar with the idea of magic and wizards through Petunia and Lily.

However, it is rarely a wise idea to drop a letter off at a house, delivered unseen by an owl, which states, in essence, "Congratulations, your brat is a wizard/witch, please send him/her to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for proper training." That would be taken as a prank or a joke, and the parents would throw the letter away without a backwards glance, regardless of their child's excitement.

Such matters must be addressed with extreme delicacy by someone the Ministry could trust not to bungle. It is difficult for anyone to believe Pandora would play such a nonsensical prank, as her dignity and composure discouraged suspicion. She was, I believe, one of eight people who volunteered this throughout the UK. Unlike the other seven, Pandora used the best resource: other children.

In other words, your father and I were often enlisted to help with Pandora's schemes. But it wasn't all for naught; this is how your father and your mother met, after all.

Now, Pandora was not the sort of person to blindly leap into a situation. That, I believe, is purely a Potter characteristic, for Snapes are rarely impetuous. It must come from being from a family with a very strong outturn of Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Pandora preferred to study the persons she would approach with information that would forever change the way they not only saw the world, but also future plans for their children. She often explained to James and me that it was easier to present the information in a manner that the parents could comfortably accept, or at least did not feel threatened.

Her strategy to dissuade the Muggles was always the same: Divide and conquer. A very good strategy.

Separate the child from his or her parents and get that child involved with James and myself in play. We would present the idea of magic to the child, and Pandora would measure the child's reaction. As children often reflect their parents' sentiments and beliefs, Pandora gained insight to the possible reaction of the parents. Pandora led each conversation with extreme caution, probing and guiding, coaxing and cajoling, until the hapless Muggle was trapped within a web of words and wonder.

I remember the day we met Lily. It had rained in London for more than a week, and when the rain finally ceased, parents dragged children filled with pent-up energy to playgrounds and parks for a moment's respite. Despite the sun not being out and the wind rather chilly, Mrs. Evans brought Lily and her older sister, your lovely aunt Petunia (please note my sarcasm), to the park.

Pandora had been observing the family for several weeks, all of us living within a near-by rented flat. She took this as a chance to be good as any other, bundled James and me up in several sweaters with a cap on each head to protect us should it begin to rain once more, and hustled us off to the park after the Evans family.

James was excited; at the age of ten years, he and Sirius had a lot of experience as being all-around tricksters and trouble-causers. Being stuck in a single room with only myself for company and the many books of spells and charms Pandora had given us to study was not a healthy thing for an over-active boy with a sense of mischief that rivalled Voldemort's ambition to rule the world.

The first thing James did upon reaching the playground was to pour an oily compound on the slide, something I had brewed up from one of Pandora's potion recipes as bribe to keep him from bothering me the day before. Children misfortunate enough to play on it found the bottom of their trousers or skirts slicked up to the point where they slid off further than they ever dreamed of. Nor could they sit upon anything afterwards, as they would slide from their perch. Needless to say, the swings were free. Pandora's only response to that little prank was to seat herself beside Mrs. Evans, roll her eyes, and then complain loudly about problematic little boys.

Having only daughters, Mrs. Evans expressed her condolences. From there, they began a casual conversation about the pros and cons of raising only girls, versus raising only boys. As for myself, I wandered over to the sandpit where Lily was creating a set of tunnels. I quietly began to work beside her as James continued to reap havoc upon the Muggle children. After some time, his energy diminished, and he joined me in the sandbox. I cannot remember what happened to Petunia that day – I suspect she hid once she realized that James didn't just limit his mischief to other little boys.

"Eh, that was all sorts of fun, wasn't it Sev?" he asked as he plopped down beside me and ran his hands through the damp sand. I glared at him disapprovingly. James was not bothered in the least. "Don't look like that, Sev," he said knowingly, "or your face'll stick."

Lily giggled then. It was the first sound she had made since we both started playing in the sandbox. She had not even sighed when Petunia tromped through earlier and wrecked our sandy creations. At the time, she was a mousy little thing with tangled auburn hair and the most brilliant green eyes I have ever seen on anyone.

"Look like what?" I asked.

"Like this." James frowned in the same manner as I had. I rolled my eyes and Lily giggled again. James turned to her with a grin. "I guess I shouldn't do that," he said, "my face might stick like his and then there would be two of us!"

I rolled my eyes again. "The world would end as we know it."

James threw a friendly arm around my shoulders. "We love each other," he said to Lily, "can you tell?"

She continued to giggle. James, as brash as he was at times, could be quite charming if he willed. I think Lily was quite taken in by him from that moment onward, as James took her under his proverbial wing. They did become quite fond of one another throughout the years. Lily was like Remus, calm and even-headed. She tempered James' wildness while he brought her to life with his antics, adding a spark to her eyes and a spring to her steps.

In the ploy of introducing the idea of magic, James and I manipulated one another, come what may. We mooched off of each other for cues, ideas, and ploys. We would lay blame and cast excuses, using each other to what had to be done, willingly pooling together our resources to succeed.

This was a foreshadow of what we would do together in our years after graduating Hogwarts. He would become an Auror, and I a Death Eater. Ah, but we were a formable force! My cunning and his strength combined with our mutual drives and ambitions, and we knew success as the others never did.

As James spoke with Lily, he played up on my grumpiness. This was where we would introduce the concept of magic. The more James spoke, the more he gestured with his hands. When he suddenly stopped gesturing, that was Pandora's cue to watch closely as we mentioned the M word. Now, from this time on, our roles would interchange. If the child we spoke to was taken in with James, he would turn to the child and say quite solemnly, "And can you believe this boring git here doesn't believe in magic?"

From there we led the child in a roundabout way, trying to see if the child accepted the idea. If he or she did or did not, that was Pandora's signal to manipulating the parents into the avenue she wished them in. James' and my roles exchanged if the child was repulsed in some way by James' behaviour. I would introduce the concept of magic by saying, "Would you believe this fool here thinks magic exists?"

Now, it was generally a given if the child would accept the concept just by the overall reaction towards James' and my question. Lily's response to James' comment was to look at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. I shrugged, and then Pandora would take it from there.

I will not explain how Pandora presented Hogwarts to the parents as well as the child's invitation to attend. Needless to say, Mr. and Mrs. Evans were not hard to convince that the school was not a hoax. Indeed, they were excited over the idea of their daughter being a witch. They thought it to be very special and were proud of Lily's ability to do magic. However, Petunia was not.

Add that woman to the list of people who should be suspended by their toes from the Whomping Willow. Place her between Lucius and Lockhart, and let the three of them at each other; it would be most amusing and they deserve no less.