An owl flew through the open window, alighting on the back of a velvet chair in the study.

It was a small tawny owl – dirty… as though it had been collecting dust for fifteen years.

Attached to the leg of the owl was a package. An ordinary package wrapped in brown paper and tied with white cotton string.

What made this package interesting was the elegant script on the front:

Severus Snape

Hogwarts Castle

October 31st 1981

To be delivered: June 23rd 1996

Drawn underneath was a small lily.

--

Grumbling about 'old coots', Severus stalked through the dungeon passages to his chambers.

He had just been in a 'meeting' with Albus Dumbledore, current headmaster of Hogwarts. 'Meeting', to Albus, meant sitting down to drinking tea, eating lemon drops, and trying to coerce Severus into wearing robes of a different colour than his preferred black.

Severus shuddered at the memory, still fresh in his mind. He stopped at the painting of Salazar Slytherin that guarded his quarters from unwanted visitors.

"Fluffy socks!" Severus spat.

Damn Dumbledore and his idiotic passwords thought Severus.

The portrait swung open to let Severus into his rooms.

Severus paused, taking his black robes off to reveal the black trousers and white shirt he had chosen to wear underneath. He then poured himself a shot of Firewhiskey, downing it in one smooth motion.

Finally noticing the owl, Severus stalked over to the velvet chair, relieving the owl of the package and sending it flying out the window with a sharp glare.

He placed the package on his desk, walking briskly over to the window in the wake of the fleeing owl, to slam it closed with a loud bang!

Severus sat down on the sofa that also took residence in his study, pouring himself another shot of Firewhiskey.

He picked up the package, not really reading the writing on the front, untying the string and taking off the plain brown paper. A letter and a shoebox fell out.

Deciding to open the letter first, Severus slit open the envelope and took the letter out. Reading the first two sentences, he dropped the letter even as his face paled to a chalk-white.

--

Dearest Severus.

I know you are probably wondering why I would be writing to you, fifteen years after I died, but I feel you have the right to know what has happened to me – to us.

Harry is not James' son. He is yours.

I always remembered, from school, the way your voice would glide over your words, like silk. I also remember the times I admired the way you walked, that graceful step borne of years of practice. You might be wondering why on earth I am bringing these things up here, now, but they are the things that gave you away.

Do you remember the night Voldemort called you to his side, with a promise of 'fun', for his most loyal servants?

It was November 31st, and there was a row of women, Disillusioned and bound.

I was one of those women. More specifically, the one you chose.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Before we were led into that room, Severus, we were fed a number of potions. From what I remember about you, you would have had no problem identifying them, but alas, as I was not aspiring to be a Potions Master, I had to wait and look them up.

The first was a black potion. This one I found to be an ancient potion, used during experiments to help produce beings capable of living with large amounts of power in their bodies.

The second was a fertility potion

The third was not a potion but a paste. I'm still not sure what this one but it felt ancient as well, spreading through my body, tainting it with Dark power, making me nauseous.

The fourth potion was blood red. Dusty, like it hadn't been touched in a while. This one I feared the most, because it was an ancient binding potion, binding the person and any others with that person's blood to another's will. It was particularly horrifying because it had been mixed with the blood of that monster, Voldemort. It didn't really have a tangible effect, so I'm hoping that it didn't work.

Then you chose me. Don't be sad at having to do that to me. You were one of the sweetest people I knew, even though I was a 'mudblood'. I stand by that knowledge, even knowing what you are and what you might have done.

So, after that night, I got pregnant with the child, 'Harry', as we decided to call him. James never knew the truth. He also didn't know that I had cast an Appearance Charm on the baby, using my skills at Arithmancy to extend it to 16 years.

This is the crux of the matter Severus. If my Sight proves correct, Voldemort himself is coming tonight to kill all of us.

The charm will begin to wear off before the boy's 16th birthday, and Severus, you need to take care of him, please. If you've already met him, then you must think he's a clone of James. He isn't. That is just the charm, protecting him from those that might want to take his life.

If you haven't met him yet, please, please, track him down. If I am right, he will be scared and he will need your help to get through this.

Please Severus, track your son down, for his sake and mine.

With all my heart, and all my love,

Lily Evans-Potter.

--

After regaining his composure, Severus picked up the letter again, pausing every now and then to think over things Lily had said.

He opened the shoebox next. It only had a few items in it. A birth certificate, for 'Harry'. Lily's arithmetic calculations showing how she knew it was that particular night that Harry was conceived. A ring Severus thought he lost. He now remembered that the woman he chose had ripped it off his finger that night.

Severus put the letter and the box aside, contemplating what the letter meant. If 'Harry' truly were his son… would he want a greasy Death Eater as a father?

-- --

At that particular moment Harry would have been happy just to get out of the Dursley's house, be it with his Death Eater father or not.

After he came home during the third week of June, Vernon had burned all this Hogwarts things – including his wand and Invisibility Cloak.

"Now we'll see how you can hocus-pocus Dudley if you don't go back to that wretched place." Vernon spat.

He grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck, dragging him down the stairs and throwing him in the cellar.

"Wait there, you little piece of shit. I'll teach you to set those Dementoid things on your own cousin." He hissed.

Harry lay in the corner of the small room, too bruised and shocked by what had happened to even consider moving. He listened to Vernon's heavy footsteps on the floor above him.

The footsteps neared after a while, and Harry held his breath as the cellar door opened.

Vernon strode into the room, a maniacal grin on his face and a dark light in his eyes.

"Come here little nephew-mine." He taunted in a teasing voice.

Harry backed up, scared enough to move despite the pain of being thrown on the floor. He shuffled back as Vernon advanced on him, feeling the wall against his back as he hit it. Harry curled into a ball, trying not to let his uncle get a firm hold on him, but Vernon hit him savagely across the back, causing him to flinch and cry out.

Taking advantage of Harry's panic, Vernon hauled him up again, this time to lock his wrists and ankles to chains attached to the floor and ceiling. Harry was slumped, held up only by the wrist-chains. Vernon cackled to see his nephew hurting, and left the room again.

Through the red haze of pain that washed over him, Harry vaguely wondered what else would happen. There would be no one to rescue him this time.

He couldn't send an owl because Vernon broke Hedwig's neck. The Weasleys and Grangers wouldn't send owls because they could be intercepted. Dumbledore wouldn't come; he thought that the Dursley house was safe. Professor Lupin – Remus, Harry reminded himself – couldn't come, he was on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix

There was no one to rescue him this time.

--