Disclaimer: I do not own J.K Rowling. So, I do not own the Harry Potter universe

flash of lighting brightened the darkness, followed by a clash of thunder that echoed a hollow booming in the air. White and wet fog came drifting in subtly until their undeniable presence formed a heavy veil. The wind roared from the throat of the sky and time seemed interminable in the almost complete darkness as the rolling clouds obscured the moon. Yet the vast darkness, there appeared to be a flickering brightness, a moving dot of dim light in the mists.



A few raindrops, occasionally seen when illuminated by a strike of lightning, made their way down a glassy surface. The light trickle of rain became a downpour. The driver cursed and muttered something about bad luck, earning the disapproving scowl from the woman in the backseat. The night was now in the glare of lightning, which came thick and fast, followed by peals of thunder. The woman was old, her gaunt face was lined. She knew the road was rugged for she often traveled this way, but still they seemed to fly over it with a feverish haste. She could understand what the haste meant and the driver was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching their destination.



Hours passed and the storm ceased. The cries of a child were unacknowledged as silence draped itself over the land.



Far away, some where in the world, a man with the name Dumbledore smiled in triumph.

And so it began…….

************************

The smoke of his breath was grey on the black and icy air. It had been raining all day, and the branches around him still dripped a steady trickle. It was dark, and the place was cold. Several times the man grew restless and walked forward, peering into the darkness with anticipation.



************************

Severus looked blankly at the ceiling. It was in the middle of the night and his room was barely illuminated other than the faint light that came through the window. This was the fourth time he had this dream and the unusual repetition elicited much curiosity. Always a forest, a man and sometimes with a woman. But Merlin! He was much too tired for this. After all, there were work to be done the next day.



~

"Now…stir three times counter wise." With a stern countenance, the teacher inspected his pupil's work with the a most critical eye.

It was an interesting sight. The room was cramped and dusty. It had only a small window and was bared except a variety of potion ingredients , most of them distinguished in appearance and not at all pleasant stored in jars on the shelves, or else were presently scattered on a wooden table. An old man clad in grey owning a face etched with lines and a scrutinizing gaze stood in a corner. The spotlight landed on a young boy in stiff black robe and a slight frown that well contrasted to his age, leaning over a seething cauldron above blue flames. One hand was on the worn page of a book, the other lost in its search for the necessary ingredients, and dark eyes darted back and forth. He took a beaker and let a drop of its content fell into the depths of the cauldron. The solution frothed and turned a light silver shade.



"Remember. Potions is not a sentimental art. It is all memorization, technique, logic, and required absolute precision. Do you hear me boy?"



"Yes Morvick. of course." The boy carefully separated the potion into small flask while Morvick conjured a wooden stick and with a "Sortis!" and "Conceleres!" Beetles eyes, knotgrasses, shrivel figs, snake fangs, and everything else on the table magically flew to their designated spots on the shelves and disappeared.

"I saw a stranger lurking around here today on my way here," the boy commented nonchalantly as he opened the door. The old man froze, but did not give any indication for him to stop.

"There is a charm here that keeps the Muggles away, so it got to be a wizard. Anyway, it was brief.

Morvick turned around abruptly and looked at his pupil, eye steady, inquiring, and -fear? The boy glanced around himself to see if he had spontaneously grew an extra arm.



"It was your imagination. Probably the heat,,," the response was dry and was an obvious end to this conversation on the old man's part.



Tension hung in the air



"Same time tomorrow, sir?



"Of course!" Morvick exclaimed loudly and out of character. A pair of eyes widened in surprise.



"Of course…eh…tomorrow. Tomorrow…" the old man continued to mutter to himself, unaware of his student's early dismissal. Severus was in a similar state and probably would have remain oblivious if Morvick had took notice of his exit. He wanted to believe that Morvick was right and what happened was only figments of his imagination. Treading upon a familiar trial , he looked up to the green sky above and could see the streams of radiance leaking through the formidable fortress of leaves and branches.



He didn't tell Morvick that there had been two.

************************



The spring had came earlier this year, and the heat became insufferable. Perspiration glistened on Severus's forehead. He wished that he had worn something lighter and not as suffocating as he walked under the shades into the heart of the wood-Morvick's potion laboratory. It was more of a shed than a laboratory, he mused to himself. Its only merit was the convenience of its location that supplied many fresh potion ingredients.



Suddenly, he became conscious of the hollow thuds of contact between boots and the earth. With the agility accumulated from years of running from the bullies, he climbed up the closest tree until he was completely out of sight. Severus peered down at the approaching figures. Eerily, they had decided to meet on the spot where he just had been - and uncomfortably near where he was now. Why on earth would two strange men and WIZARDS be here of all the places? People only chose to meet in secluded places if they don't want the discussion to be heard. It was impossible to see their faces, but he could almost hear the words. Severus edged closer, concerned only not to be heard. He had missed most part of the conversation.

" …how many times do I need to say this! She would refuse him. The other takes the blame, and WE accomplish the mission.

"If she does, if she does not refuse-"

"He does not tolerate failure."

With that said, both men vanished into thin air.

************************

There had been someone. Men who were not suppose to be here. Men who intended harm. Severus kept glancing backwards until the trees gradually thinned and patches of farms and pastures spread before him. Soon enough, houses and shops came into view as did people- small children in their games of tags and adults in the shops bargaining and complaining about prices. The Village was not a village. It was a small concentrated magical town full of witches and wizards except him.



He was a Squib.

Not that it mattered significantly. Children his age always made him the victim in their games of torment. He was too tall, too smart, too serious, and too skinny for a thirteen year old. Adults, friends of the Snape family, looked at him with a mixture of contempt and pity-two thing he didn't want or need. Whether it was because his father died when he was a baby or that he was Squib, he didn't know. Severus had long given up hope that he might show any sort of a sign himself. But his mother didn't and neither did Morvick. He said magic was required in the "art of potions," and firmly asserted that Severus was a wizard who had more potential than anyone he ever saw. But Morvick was different, a bit eccentric. Severus entered a building at the centre of the shops. There were no one inside, for the building had only a hall whose four walls were cramped with thousands drawers engraved with different named. His sound of his footsteps echoed until he arrived in front of the drawer with the name "Snape." Severus pulled. With deafening roar, he found himself a little nauseous standing in the courtyard of his home.

It was a small house and well isolated. Fields of green stretched for miles giving the Snape residence a distinct air that cried "home." When he finally recovered, he was conscious of the voices indoors which had escalated to a point of being belligerent. He moved silently and placed himself beside a window-a window that was open.

"…HE is my son now! I took care of him ever since I found him. I am not giving him up! HE IS MY SON! I do not care if-"

"This matter doesn't concern us, my dear sister. I am Aurors, I have to follow the orders. On behalf of Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer-"

"I will not give up my child!"

"Please, Titania! If you refuse, you will force me to take drastic measures. I do not want to do that."

"He is a SQUIB!"

Silence.

"That is not my concern. I am following orders."

Severus faltered. His legs were weak and shaking.

A short woman in blue came out and her eyes widened at she saw her son. Muttering breathlessly, she began to fuss with the boy's ebony hair. He stared blankly at her. He could not registered what he just had heard.



I took care of him ever since I found him.

She continued to straightened his robes. A kind face framed by raven locks looked up to meet his eyes.

I found him….

I found him…..

"Your uncle is here to see us."

I just found out that Voldemort is actually around SIXTY! Isn't that a bit old for the Evil Lord and "I will conquer the whole Universe and get rid of muggles" role? BIG, HUGE, GIGANTIC and TWISTED surprise in Snape's real identity!!!! Mwahahahah……..Point the arrow down…yyyeeesssssss…a bit lower to "submit review"….go on…CLICK!!! *nudge nudge* *wink wink*