His memory returned in a rush as he moved his feet under him, trying to relieve the pressure on his raw, chafed wrists.
Harry instantly regretted even that small movement as all the wounds Vernon gave him began to burn in renewed pain. Strangely enough, his back hurt too, right between his shoulder blades. He knew it hadn't been from Vernon, because his uncle had focussed on his chest. He had taken particular delight to carving 'freak' into his chest over and over.
--
Harry spent the rest of the day chained in the cellar.
Every creak of the house was Vernon coming to teach him another 'lesson', and Harry was afraid to close his eyes for fear his uncle would catch him by surprise.
Petunia came in at what Harry thought was around 2 or 3 in the afternoon, bringing in a glass of lukewarm water and half a piece of stale bread. Harry wasn't really hungry at all, but forced it down because he knew he couldn't survive long without either. He didn't notice that his hair had grown longer and straighter, changed colours, and acquired a greasy feel to it.
--
The days merged into weeks, with regular beatings coming from Vernon. Over and over Harry was called worthless, a freak, a burden on anyone that knew him, and a murderer. After the first couple of weeks enduring these 'lessons', Harry broke.
He no longer fought the chains that held him in place. He no longer screamed, or even cried out, when Vernon came at him with the knife or his bloodied belt.
Harry was silent.
Harry had retreated to the back of his mind, pushed over the edge.
It was comfortable there, and the soft white didn't hurt his eyes like the sunlight had.
Time didn't seem to exist there, and Harry had no idea that his features had changed so much as the weeks passed by. His fingers and palms lengthened. He grew taller. His face gained a more angular appearance. His shoulders broadened and his muscles toned, giving him the sleek appearance of a Muggle sprinter. His lifeless eyes even changed colour, acquiring a darker tint, closer to black than green.
--
More time passed, and Harry remained unaware of the world outside his mind. He didn't know that it was almost midnight on July 31st 1996, his sixteenth birthday.
This time Harry wasn't awake to watch the clock flick over to twelve o'clock, and he certainly didn't see the white light that surrounded his body chained to the wall back in the cellar.
In the flow of his mind, something changed.
A figure materialised in front of him, coinciding with the last tick of the clock over to 12.00 am August 1st.
It was his mother, Lily.
--
Harry was stunned. Even in his own mind, he had dropped his jaw, staring open-mouthed at the apparition.
"But? … Wha? … How? …"
"Hush Harry dearest." The woman, Lily, said. "It really is me. Honey, I know this is going to be a bit hard to take, but I don't have a lot of time to explain everything that has happened. All I'm asking is that you bear with me and save the questions till after. Okay?"
Unable to trust his voice, Harry nodded dumbly.
"Harry, the first thing I need to tell you is that James loved you very much. He did everything he could to save you from that monster, Voldemort, and even now as we watch over you, we're very proud of you, and all that you've accomplished."
At that point Lily walked over to Harry and wrapped him in a warm hug. It was the first he could ever remember by someone that actually loved him. He savoured the feel of her arms around him, waiting there till she stepped away.
"The reason I'm telling you this, baby, is because James isn't your real father."
And the bomb dropped. Lily looked at Harry anxiously, waiting for his reaction.
Harry just stood there, gaping at his mother. It didn't quite sink in, so he just nodded at her to carry on with what she needed to say.
"I'm not sure whether you've met him or not, but your real father is a man by the name of Severus Snape. He's a wonderful man. Granted, he's a bit sarcastic at times, but he is passionate about those he loves."
And so Lily carried on with her story, telling Harry what had happened the night he was conceived and how she kept James from knowing until after their death.
She also told him how proud she was of the things he had done, and how he didn't judge people at first glance.
"Okay Harry honey, my time here is running out, and I need to tell you some important things. The first is that you have turned sixteen in the outside world. It was a while ago, about a month now, because out there it's the beginning of September. Okay, back to the story. I know that the wizarding coming of age is seventeen, but yours is a year earlier because of who – what, you are. As well as that happening, the Appearance charm I cast on you will be completely gone by now. Instead of resembling James, you will be very like Severus, and some other changes you'll have to find out in time. All you need to know is that James and I love you very much, and no matter what happens, you will always be our baby Harry."
With this, Lily leant down and gently kissed Harry's forehead: a feeling that would stay with him through all the things to come.
"Stay safe, my little Harry."
It was the last thing he heard.
With a flash of brilliant white light, Harry knew no more.
-- --
It was the night of the Welcoming Feast, and Severus was worried. He hadn't seen Harry yet, and it was almost time for the First-years to be Sorted. They traipsed in, looking very small next to the older student lining the tables across the Great Hall.
Severus sneered at them, keeping the appearance of annoyance even though he was worried for his son. At that moment Dumbledore strode into the Hall, patched and frayed Hat in one hand, and a stool in the other.
"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To the new students, I say welcome to your first year, and to the older ones, I say welcome back. Now! On with the Sorting!"
With that, the Sorting started.
"Aden, Sarah" Professor McGonagall started, only to be interrupted by a flash of brilliant white light.
Everyone in the Hall squinted, shading his or her eyes and trying to find the source of the glare.
After a second or two the flare died down to reveal a bloodied body lying on the floor, glowing faintly. Dumbledore sprang up from his seat, and hurried over to the body. As he got closer he could see it was a teenaged boy, only about 16 or so.
He waved his wand a few times, muttering spells under his breath. He turned back to the High Table and his eyes settled on Severus.
"Quick! Get Poppy from the Infirmary. Now!" Dumbledore snapped.
--