Chapter 2

"No ma'am, I'm Harry his son. If you don't mind, how do you know my father?" Maybe she was a long lost cousin on his father's side. Maybe the blood wards would work with her.

"Harry? I thought you were dead. Petunia told me-," Harry wasn't in the slightest surprised the Petunia told her mother that Harry died. That must have been why Harry had never met his Grandmother.

"She also told me my parents died in a car crash, which wasn't true. It seemed like she lied to us both," That may have been the wrong thing for Harry to seem because it seemed her face started to even paler with every word that he spoke.

"Lily and James didn't die in a car crash? Then how did they die." What kind of daughter wouldn't tell her own mum on how her daughter died? Harry felt guilty, almost 15 years since his parent's death and his Grandmother was just finding out the truth now.

"We shouldn't talk about this here, maybe we can go back to your house so we can discuss everything," Harry didn't have the faintest idea of how he was going to explain everything to his Grandmother. He could only hope, he wasn't blamed for his parents' death.

Harry once again ended up in front of the red door with flowers painted on it. This time though he was able to walk through it without interruption from Snape. Harry still wondered, why Snape would be at his Grandmother's house. Harry silently followed Rose, with the paper bags of groceries she bought at the market. Harry watched her move around ease around the kitchen. The kitchen was filled with family pictures that included his mom. Harry tried not to stare at them for too long but he couldn't help it. Petunia never had any family pictures around and everyone in the wizarding world was always quick to mention James Potter but never Lily. She was always forgotten, the one thing he could count of is saying how he had his mother's eyes. No matter how many times he heard that statement, it still brought joy to him. It was the only thing he had left of his mother.

Harry noticed one particular picture on the wall of the kitchen, his mum with a black haired boy. His hairs seemed to reach his shoulders. And he had the same crooked nose as his Potions professor. It was Snape! Snape knew his mom as a child?

"So, um," Harry shuffled on his feet not really sure to call Rose, would she be offended by the title Grandma. "Snape, knew my mum as a kid?" Harry looked at the ground as he waited for an answer.

"Oh, yes they were best of friends as a child; sometime at Hogwarts they had a falling out and their friendship never mended before she -," Harry couldn't help but feel some joy when Rose didn't put any malice on the words Hogwarts like Petunia and Vernon did. Rose paused in her movement in putting the stuff from the store away. A faraway look appeared in her eyes before she was able to shake herself out of it.

"Why, don't you go in the living room while I make us some tea and then we can talk," He paused while going out the door, he had no idea where the living room was but he wasn't going to tell her that. He walked out of the kitchen and ended up in another room full of furniture and more pictures he could only assume this was the living room. He couldn't help but notice the lily wallpapers, that covered the wall. He grabbed a picture of his mum and sat on the couch. Trying to rack his brain for a duplicate spell; he would risk his Hogwarts education for a picture of his mother. A picture of when she was young, happy; the effects of the war hadn't yet wane on her.

Rose shuffled in with a tray in her hands with tea and cookies, the tray landed on the table with a clang noise. She began to pour the tea into two separate cups and wordlessly offered Harry one of the cups. While Harry was never a tea person, he didn't want to disappoint her and took a sip of the tea. Surprised that he actually liked this tea.

"You know; Lily was never much of a tea person herself. I could never understand it; growing up in England surrounded by tea. But one day I made this passion fruit tea, and she loved it. It was the only tea that she would drink willingly," Rose shifted into her seat, her eyes peering at Harry. Studying him in every way possible.

Harry began to rub his neck, a nervous habit he picked up from somewhere, "I guess, I should tell you about my parent's death. There was a prophecy, in where Voldemort only heard the first half, where it said as the seventh month died a baby born of his parents who thrice defied him would have the power to defeat him. There were two kids that fit the prophecy, Neville Longbottom and me. It's kind of obvious who he picked. On Halloween, he attacked my parents at Godrick's Hallow and it was my mum's love that led me to survive. I was brought to leave with Aunt Petunia."

Harry had an urge to run, watching the emotions change on Rose's face; he could almost feel the blame radiating from her body. But Rose was his only option, he was going to have to deal with the resentment. He did it with the Dursley's he could do it now. He could only wonder what she would think of him, when she was told of Cedric's and Sirius's death. Harry cringed at the thought of telling her that.

"I know, that it was my fault that they died. You probably blame me, I bl-. I need a place to stay for the summer. It's only a couple of weeks before I go back to school and then I'll be out of your hair forever. I just have nowhere to go,". For once Harry looked and felt his age, he felt like a tired teenager. He just wanted to rest in peace; without wondering what was lurking around the next corner.

"Harry, I could never blame you. I blame that Voldemort person- he killed your mother and father. I didn't know you existed Harry, or I would have taken you in. I was told by Petunia that all three of you died in a car crash." Harry's fist began to clench; he could have had a real family. A loving grandmother and Petunia took that away from him. How many things are adults going to take from him?

Harry sat outside, while Rose was somewhere in the house making herself busy. Harry's thoughts consumed with everything that continued to go wrong in his life. How he was placed with the Dursley's- Dumbledore's fault, going after the Philosopher's stone- Dumbledore's and McGonagall's fault, Dumbledore's for keeping the blasted stone in a school with students and McGonagall for not listening when they tried to tell her someone was after the stone. Chamber of Secrets- Dumbledore's fault for not doing anything about Riddle years ago when he had the chance. Cedric's death, his boyfriend- it was his fault, all his fault. He couldn't place the blame on anyone else but himself. He wished Cedric would have run, when he told him to. And finally Sirius death, another death. If he could only have master Occlumency; he had tried but he couldn't understand. And with Snape, he didn't care if Harry understood it or not.

Harry's mind began to wonder on Snape, if he would come back here. If he would demand that he goes back to his Aunt Petunia. He didn't think Rose would, let him go back to Petunia's house though. She seemed pretty upset at her daughter's lying.

Harry stilled wondered where Hedwig was, it was unlike her to be gone for so long. But maybe Ron or Hermione had her waiting until his birthday to send their letters and his gifts at once. The thought of Harry's friends brought a smile to his face. He had never had friends before he went to Hogwarts and then to find out he was famous. Many people had already tried to be his friend because of his namesake- but he knew he could trust Ron and Hermione. They had always stuck with him, they never thought he was evil or lying about Voldemort's return.

Harry wondered why people would think that he would lie about his return. About the man who killed his parents, why would he want Voldemort alive. The constant reminder, that if he would have been just a day before or after, his parents could be alive. That if August 1st, he came out of the womb; his life would be completely different. That Neville would be The Boy Who Lived; the stupid title that was supposed to be a great thing. No one thinks of it as the constant reminder that, his parents died that night. That while he survived others died, many others died. They thought he killed Cedric, his first love, his only love. How could he ever have killed someone he loved more than himself? People were bigots, Harry decided.

Harry thought of starting his summer homework, this being the first summer he would actually have proper time to think and do it; but he made no move to get up. He couldn't move himself off the bench, he was sure that his mum must have sat on countless times. Maybe with her parents, Petunia, and his Dad. He looked at his surroundings at all the different houses, that had nothing in common. They each had their own individual personality. House one: was a brown house, so Harry envisioned people like Hermione's parents. Just ordinary people, with ordinary lives. Nothing to special about them. House two: A house that was painted a bright pink color. He imagined these people as the Weasley's a big family, with lots of children. Specifically, he thought of the twins and how he could actually see them one day turning their house pink. Laughing while Mrs. Weasley got flustered and yelled at them to change them back to the original color; also the twins arguing how it looks better pink.

Harry didn't notice the figure approaching him, "Mr. Potter, I believed I told you to return to your Aunt's residence."

A/N: And here is chapter two folks, I hoped you enjoyed it. I have a question though, would you enjoy Rose or Severus taking Harry to visit his parents grave? Tell me in a review please! Read and Review and see you guys soon! And should be up within an hour so yay!