The next few weeks were rather mundane for Harry. The guest bedroom had been converted to a storage room for all of Dudley's extra toys. It mostly consisted of the ones he had broken or become bored with. Harry had learned the idea had come from as the last time he had entered Dudley's room he had stepped on a rather unpleasantly shaped lego and was displeased at the idea of doing so again.

School would be back in session soon and Harry was unexcited by the prospect. He liked learning and his teachers weren't awful, but it was the other kids Harry dreaded the most. Dudley was pretty popular at school, thanks to his aunt sending the boy with plenty of treats to share with the class minus Harry of course. This meant that Harry had become a bit of an outcast. Most of the time he spent their recess hiding in a bush or behind the dumpster avoiding the attention of Dudley and his gang.

Even in class, he wasn't allowed to do much other than stare at his text as even if the teacher did call on him he was expected to get the answers wrong. To do anything more, he had learned rather quickly, meant that his cousin would get embarrassed which meant more Harry hunting in his future. Harry's homework was often confiscated by his aunt when he did do it as she would rewrite it for Dudley to turn in as his own. She would tell him that her 'Dudders' had a bright future ahead of him, unlike Harry, and deserved to get good grades. All of this combined, made school a rather miserable time for the seven year old and made his existence feel rather pointless.

Harry wasn't thinking about school now though. Everyone in the house had gone to bed and Harry sat inside his cupboard staring at the photographs as he had every night since finding the book. He kept it stashed behind some loose insulation that lined the walls of the cupboard and thankfully nobody had noticed his light had been staying on much later into the night.

Harry would tell the photo of his parents about his day and his horrible relatives. He knew the picture couldn't hear him as the photo he realized after some time seemed to repeat the same motions time and time again, but it made him feel better to share his thoughts. He had never really said how he felt out loud before and the relief was tremendous.

He kissed the book gently before stuffing it away. "Goodnight, Mum and Dad." He whispered and shut the light off before falling asleep.

"Up!"

The familiar clicking noise brought Harry back into consciousness. He went through his morning motions before heading to the kitchen once more. Inside, his aunt was alone for once and Harry wondered where his cousin and uncle were.

"I don't want to go." Dudley whined from the staircase and Harry could see at the bottom looking quite purple and agitated.

"We're going." said with some finality.

"But her dogs are so gross and she always pinches my cheeks." Dudley continued.

"She is your aunt." Aunt Petunia added and kissed her husband on the cheek before embracing Dudley at the bottom of the stairs. "It will only be for a few days, Dudders. Then we can go shopping for your new school supplies, won't that be fun?"

"Can I get a new bag?" Dudley asked, suddenly perking up and Aunt Petunia nodded.

"Go on, you boys will miss the train if you don't hurry." Aunt Petunia chided and off the pair went leaving Harry and his aunt alone.

Aunt Petunia looked at Harry then and he could see she had tears in her eyes. She was like this any time Dudley had to spend any time away from her. Harry felt a sudden urge to ask her about his mother. Aunt Petunia was always a tiny bit nicer to him when Dudley and Mr. Dursley weren't around.

"Aunt Petunia," He began slowly as he tried to gauge her receptiveness. Harry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck begin to prickle in warning. This could end very badly, but he pressed on. "I-I was wondering if maybe you would tell me more about my mum?"

He winced, waiting for the backlash and wasn't disappointed by her suddenly hard, hateful stare locked on him.

"I've told you everything there is to know." She said coldly. "What more would you possibly need to know?"

"I just wondered what she was like." Harry managed to choke out. It was either bravery or stupidity at this point and Harry wasn't sure which.

"My sister," She sneered, "Was an abomination to our family. Why our parents didn't throw her out is beyond me and that husband of hers was a disgrace."

Harry thought of the photo of his parents and the younger Lily and forced himself to continue pressing his luck. "But, she couldn't have always been that bad, right?"

"She was a freak." Aunt Petunia spat.

"She wasn't!" Harry protested. He could feel his face flush in anger.

"And how would you know?" Aunt Petunia turned on him and came closer. "You were just a baby when they got themselves killed with their recklessness and left you to burden me! I had a perfectly normal life before you came along." Her neck seemed even longer as she peered down at him with her nostrils flaring. "I would have never had to let my Dudley go off without me. I wouldn't have to worry about you doing something destructive or abnormal. I wish that my sister had never been born and you along with her."

Harry cried out as she grabbed his arm and tossed him into his cupboard with a small shove and slammed the door behind him. Harry ripped the book from its hiding place and curled up with it under his thin blanket. "It's not true." He sobbed into the book.

But, she was right. Harry couldn't remember his parents. This photo book was all that he had of them. He couldn't prove that she was wrong. 'Maybe they were awful. Why else would she hate them so much?' A voice nagged at the back of his mind.

Harry felt lost. He had just wanted to know about her. He stared at the waving woman in the photo and reached out to touch it. He wanted to know where he came from and who he was, but they were all gone.

"Why did you have to die?" He asked the photograph angrily before flipping to the next. "Why do you all have to be dead?!"

He flipped to the third photograph and paused. Suddenly the thought struck him, what if they weren't all dead? He looked at the young boy beside his mother and flipped the photograph over. Severus Snape.

What if this boy was still alive somewhere? Certainly he would know about his mother. Harry felt a surge of determination burst through his melancholy. It would be worth a shot to try and find out, but how?

Harry thought for a long time about how to find this . He knew his aunt would know he had the photo book if Harry asked about him. He thought maybe he could find the man in the phone book, but he didn't even know if the man lived in England anymore; plus Aunt Petunia kept the phone book stashed in the kitchen and Harry wasn't looking to confront her anymore anytime soon. His next best idea was a letter.

He thought that maybe with such an unusual name that the postmaster might be able to find the man even without the address. He had never heard of another person named Severus Snape before and even if the letter didn't reach him at least Harry would feel better for having tried to do something. It was his last hope and so Harry began to write out his letter on a piece of notebook paper.

"Mr. Snape, My name is Harry. I live in Surrey with my aunt, my uncle, and my cousin and I think you might have known my mum."

Harry paused his writing to groan. It sounded horrible, but Harry didn't know how to put it any better. He continued to write, hoping that whoever ended up reading this - if anybody did - wouldn't think he was an idiot.

"Which is more than I can say for me. You see, she died when I was a baby. Aunt Petunia says they died in a car crash and left me as a burden on their doorstep. The things Aunt Petunia says about my mum are all awful. She says she was a freak and a drunk and that she never should have been part of their family, but,"

Harry paused again as sadness washed over him again. He was tempted to crumple up the letter. Something about putting the things his aunt had said in words seemed to make them feel more real. Maybe this was nothing but a fantasy he had created in his head.

"No." He muttered and shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. His mother's emerald eyes stared up at him and he found the courage to continue.

"I don't think she's right. Please, if it isn't too much trouble, could you tell me more about her? I just need to know who she really was."

Harry signed the bottom of the letter and folded it up neatly. His heart beat quickly as he turned the knob to his cupboard door slowly. He had been right, in her haste to get rid of him his aunt had forgotten to lock the cupboard. The house was dark and quiet now as it seemed she had gone to bed. Harry crept into the kitchen slowly where he swiped a piece of tape to seal the letter and a small postage stamp which he attached to the front.

He scrawled carefully the man's name and his own return address on the back in hope that the letter would be received and a reply sent. He snuck into the back garden and over the fence where he reached the post box. Harry nervously plopped the letter in and snuck back into the house. Inside his cupboard once more, Harry felt uneasy.

He wondered if the letter would ever make it to the man and if he was even still alive. Even if the letter did reach him, why would the man even bother replying to some stupid kid? Or maybe he would reply and Harry would find out that everything his aunt had said was true. Harry's heart plummeted at the thought, but at least then he would know for sure. He desperately hoped it was wrong. He didn't know what he hoped the man would say, but Harry knew he didn't just want to be the boy under the stairs forever.

A/N: Chapter 2! Things are starting to get moving in the story and I hope that you're all enjoying it. Next chapter, there will be a perspective shift as we see if this letter gets where it ought to. Feedback is welcome. Thanks for reading!