Disclaimer: This is a piece of fan fiction. Harry Potter and all characters, magic, events, royalties, etc., are the ideas and property of J.K. Rowling and whoever she designates to translate them to book, recording or film. I hope you'll enjoy my own take on this particular universe, even though I don't own it and didn't invent it.


Harry Potter sat under the window of the living room at number four, Privet Drive. Another summer with the Dursleys. He idly cast a spell on a ladybird. It flew away backward.

Harry heard footsteps. Someone was walking across the grass. He looked up just as Professor Snape sat down beside him.

"What..."

"I've just come to tell you that I'm your father. Happy birthday."

He stood up as abruptly as he had come, and walked away.

"That's it?" Harry asked, standing up.

Snape stopped and turned around. "What do you want? Twelve feet of parchment and a bibliography?"

"You could at least tell me what happened!"

"That was covered, I believe, in your fourth year."

"Eww!" Harry shivered. "Not like that!"

Snape shrugged. "That's all there is."

"No love? No angst? No passion? Nothing?"

"No, just too much firewhisky and a lack of potion."

"Ew," Harry said again. "Hey. If you're my father, aren't you supposed to rescue me?"

"Hardly. You're an adult now. Rescue yourself. If you can manage to do that in half an hour, I'll buy you a drink at the Leaky Cauldron."

Snape Disapparated.

Harry thought about it. Snape, or the Dursleys? No contest. Snape was already distancing himself like any decent father should. Harry retrieved his trunk and shrank it, then, holding Hedwig's cage, he boldly stepped up to the Dursley's fireplace. "Good bye forever!" he said, and tossed floo poweder onto the flames.