Chapter 2, Truths

Location: Egyptian Temple, Middle of desert, Monday, July 8 1996, early morning

Harry awoke slowly, unaware of his surroundings. His eyes flitted open to see pale alabaster walls. Blinking lethargically he glances around wondering tiredly why he wasn't in his room at Privet Drive. The walls and ceiling were in the same almost cream colored stone while the floor was made from what appeared to be granite. On the wall opposite the bed was a door that must lead out to the rest of the building. To the right of the door was a writing desk, to the left, a clothes dresser.

Harry sat up abruptly the moment his brain had processed the room around him, ignoring sore muscles and the intense heat of the room. After a few seconds of near panic he remembered the attack. He dropped his head into his hands in anguish, the Dursleys were dead. Voldemort had killed them, there was no other explanation as to how he got through the wards. More innocent people had died for him, first Cedric then Sirius and now the rest of his family. Even at their worst he had never wished them dead.

Blearily the rest of the night's events came back to him as well, the torture and the arrival of the other robed men. They must have rescued him, if they hadn't he would have been dead or in one of Voldemort's dungeon cells. He slowly climbed out from under the soft green bed sheets, nearly doubling over from pain as he stood.

Glancing down at himself he grimaced at the white breeches he was wearing before checking over his injuries. There was several long jagged scars running from the base of the right side of his neck to the tip of his right elbow from Voldemort's first curse. There were many more scars along his chest and probably his legs and back as well, most of which he couldn't remember getting. He pressed both hands against his lower rib cage and was relieved to find nothing more than a slight ache.

Harry searched around hoping to find a fresh set of clothes. He found a neat pile on the end of the bed. There was a tunic, under garments, and what appeared to be a pair of long, very baggy breeches. They were all in black. He frowned as he handled them, it was far to hot to be wearing black or breeches. Eventually he shrugged, if the people here wanted him to wear them he really didn't have much of a choice. He made quick work of dressing not wanting anyone to walk in on him without any clothes.

After putting the clothes on he was surprised to find they seemed to cool him down as well as cover most of his new scars. He decided they must have cooling charms on them. Looking the room over again he realized there was no mirror so he couldn't tell how presentable he was. He tried to flatten his hair but like always it bounced all over the place once his hand was removed. Giving up on his hair he walked quickly towards the door and slowly opened it.

Poking his head out he found a lengthy hallway that went a considerable distance to both his left and right. The walls and floor were of the same style as the room he awoke in. Stepping into the hallway Harry could see several doors similar to his own along both sides of the hall either way with large double doors at the ends. He headed right, towards the closest of the larger doors, only a few doors down.

Arriving, Harry knocked timidly. Not receiving any response he gently pushed one of the plain double doors open and slipped inside. The room he entered was as large as the Great Hall at Hogwarts, though it only had two long tables and a head table. The floor and walls were made up of a wide variety of stone, most in pale orange or white marble. The ceiling was dark orange alabaster with polished bloodstone inlays to form ancient runes and arcane designs. Harry's mouth hung open in shock and awe at the strange yet beautiful effect the different stones caused.

Harry nearly leapt out of his skin when he heard someone from the front of the room chuckle. His neck cricked as he spun his head around to look at the head table.

The room wasn't as empty as he had thought for seated at the center of the raised head table was a man in simple brown robes. The man smiled and beckoned for him to come closer.

As he approached the man stood and Harry was able to see he was quite tall with short, cropped black and gray hair, and the lines he could see around his eyes and mouth showed he was around fifty or so. After Harry had walked around the table to stand before him the man gave a slight bow that Harry returned awkwardly.

"Sit," The man spoke, his voice soft as he offered Harry the seat next to him. He had a slight accent Harry couldn't place. Harry glanced at the space and saw it was the only one set for breakfast complete with a heaping mound of food. He sat as did the older man, "We have much to discuss but first you should eat. After your ordeal you will need the nutrients to recover."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He had just finished all he could eat, about half, when he tried to thank the man and all that came out was a strangled croak. Harry dropped his fork and clamped his hands over his mouth. He removed his hands and tried to say 'what', again his voice refused to cooperate. His eyes sought out the older man and silently asked for help.

The man watched him sadly for a moment before reaching out with both hands to feel each side of his throat. Harry cringed in pain as the man started to rub his fingers in small circles right beneath his jawline.

"Don't worry you should be able to talk soon enough though I doubt your voice will ever be the same." The man paused and muttered a few spells, "I am Teldrom Cednin, head monk of this temple. I was one of the ones to help you at your home last night." Harry blinked in shock, after what happened he thought he had been unconscious for longer. Teldrom smiled weakly as he removed his hands, "You should be fine now but don't try to make any high or low pitched tones, they will just make things worse."

Harry nodded and opened his mouth, "Thank-you." He flinched at his voice. It sounded like he was recovering from weeks of strep throat. He sighed, "Well at least I can talk, right? I'm Harry, but I'm sure you knew or you wouldn't have been at Privet Drive." Teldrom smirked in agreement. "You said we have a lot to discuss. Are we going to do that now?"

"Yes," Teldrom said, "But I doubt you will like what I have to say. I think it would be best if I told you the entire tale before you start arguing with me. Would that be suitable?" Harry nodded. 'This doesn't sound good.'

Teldrom rose from his chair and walked several paces to Harry's right where he stood, hands behind his back, facing away from the nervous teen. "It started sixteen years ago. I had been second under the previous head monk, Kamen when it happened. A pregnant woman had shown up late one night, I don't know how she found this place, and she was in labor. At first I didn't know what she was, her aura was unlike anything I had ever seen. It wasn't until after the child was born and she had past away that Kamen told me she had been a demon.

"Before she had died she gave birth to a healthy baby boy," Harry started to shake his head, looking like someone who knew disaster was coming but was unable to do anything to stop it. "After her son was born she lived only long enough to tell us the name of the child, the wizard father, and her own name, Jamilia.

"After her death we contacted the father through a letter. We asked if he wished to claim the boy. He wrote back saying he was in no condition to care for anyone least of all a child. He asked us to take care of his son or if we couldn't, to place him in a kind family that would treat him well.

"The case was put before the temple council, which has since then been disbanded for corruption. They ruled the half-demon child should be sent away so as not to 'befoul'" He spat the word out, "the temple's purity. We decided the boy should grow up in the country of his father. We brought him to England and sought out a family that would take the child in.

"We found a young couple who had just lost a son in child birth. They were both sorrowful and joyed at another chance to raise a child. We had the couple place various disguising spells on the boy, so no one would ever know that he wasn't their true son. Not even the boy himself." Harry listened to Teldrom with rising horror, there was no way the man meant what he thought he was saying, "We told them we would come back for the child a short time after his sixteenth birthday, when the spells would start to wear off. They knew not the child's heritage." Teldrom smiled softly, "So here we are. I'm sure you can work out the child's identity with all I've given you."

"No!" Harry burst out, before succumbing to a bout of hacking coughs, having forgot his throat's delicate condition. "That's impossible. There's no way. I haven't gone through any changes."

Teldrom placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, hoping to calm him.

"That's where you're wrong, Harry. You have been going through the changes, only they've been to subtle for you to notice them." The boy shook his head rapidly causing his hair to whip around his face and ears. Teldrom sighed, it would take more convincing than that. He waved his hand, silently casting a summoning charm. A side door opened and a small book soar into the room, which Teldrom caught. Opening it to the middle he showed it to Harry.

The pages were filled with photographs of Harry, the page they were on were of the beginning of the break just after the ministry incident at the end of his fifth year. The boy they showed was almost an exact replica of James Potter when he was the same age. Teldrom flipped forward a few more pages to show the most recent shots. The changes between the two was too vast to explain away as a mere growth spurt.

The later's hair appeared much longer and more manageable, though Harry knew it hadn't grown any. The facial features were far sharper, more aristocratic. Harry couldn't help but feel like he had seen a face with a similar appearance before, he just couldn't put his finger on it.

"If you're telling the truth," Harry started weakly, "Why didn't you get me from the Dursley's after my parents died?"

"Use your head, child," Teldrom needled gently, he knew the boy was intelligent enough to figure it out on his own, "Why do you think we didn't retrieve you all those years ago?"

Harry started. Why would they leave him there? He closed his eyes, thinking hard. Why? His eyes flashed open in realization, "Everyone knew about me. Taking me away would have caused an uproar from the entire community. You knew the spells holding my appearance in place wouldn't fade for sixteen years, so you left me there." He suddenly lurched out of his seat. "That means the Dursleys died for nothing! Voldemort could have come at any time. They hadn't needed to die..."

Teldrom stood slowly as not to startle the boy and wrapped an arm around his small shoulders. "Do you believe me then?"

Harry leaned into the touch slightly before answering, "I guess so, it's just so strange thinking everything I've been told since I was a child was a lie." He gave a near hysterical laugh, "Of course, if something bad can happen, it will happen to me."

Teldrom sighed, "It is not entirely horrible, child. You still have some family."

"That's true," Harry remarked without enthusiasm, his father probably didn't want him or else he would have claimed him all those years ago, "Hey, what do I look like without the charms?"

Teldrom smiles, "You look a lot like your father."

"Oh, you're so much help." Harry remarks sarcastically with a sneer, unaware that, even with the charms he was the spitting image of his father. "Who is he?"

Teldrom sat back down and signaled for the boy to do the same, "I know you are not going to like this so I shall tell you a bit more about him before I reveal his identity." Harry blinked, he didn't like the sound of that. "As I told you, your father wrote to us saying he wished us to do what we thought was best for the you. He was very concerned with that. He spoke of the danger you would be in were you to be raised by him. After the first letter he sent us we erected powerful wards that would keep out any letter bearing owls. It wasn't much of a change since we never received owls any way.

"We have been keeping watch on both you and your father, and have sent him letters concerning your health and well fare." Harry glares at him muttering a few choice words about spying on people. Teldrom ignores him. "Our sources say he is always relieved and cheered to receive the letters."

"That's all well and good, but that doesn't tell me who he is." Harry cut in with exasperation.

"Have patience, child." Teldrom admonished. "He is one you have already met and are not particularly fond of." 'Joy' Harry thought, 'Why doesn't he just say it?' "His name is Severus Snape."

'NO WAY!'

Location: Potion Master's chambers, Hogwarts, Monday, July 8 1996, night

Severus Snape exited his bathroom, wearing a pair of black bed trousers, his hair damp from his shower.He glances around the room.

It was a simple living room, two worn armchairs sitting in front of a medium sized fire place. Between the two chairs was a small coffee table that held a few potion and dark arts books from the shelf lining one of the walls. The other walls bore doors to other rooms. The floor was covered by a forest green mesh carpet not unlike one of the Slytherin colors.

He took a seat in the chair to the right and gazed into the dieing embers blazing in the fireplace, his thoughts on his son. He was almost tempted to enter his room and pull out all the letters Teldrom had sent him telling of his son's various childish exploits and some not so childish ones.

He chuckled as he remembered one of the earlier ones telling him how Raven managed to convince one of the older boys to lick an icicle on their one trip to Poland one winter. The boy, who was considered by most as a bully had gotten his tongue stuck and spent five minutes screaming in panic as the adults managed to remove the ice. This was much like what most of the letters conveyed.

The man smiled gently, a sight that would send any of his students running in fear. His son sounded like a Slytherin. No doubt if he came to Hogwarts this year that's the house he would be in.

His smile faded as he wondered whether Raven knew who he was. Did he even know if his father was alive? Severus hadn't received any letters from him and the head monk, Teldrom never passed on any messages, no questions, no sign Raven knew he existed. None of the owls that brought the letters stayed long enough for him to pen a reply and no owl he sent could find the temple, though he was aware of it's location.

Severus sighed. He would know soon enough. In only a week he would have all the answers.

Location : Headmaster's office, Hogwarts, Monday, July 8 1996, night

Albus sat behind the desk in his office sorting through papers, not truly seeing them. So Severus has a son and a half demon son at that. His eyes twinkled as he remembered how Severus had defended his son when Alastor had insulted him. Even he, Albus Dumbledore had almost given up hope the young potions master could show anything other than anger, hatred, and contempt for anyone but the headmaster and himself, and sometimes not even the later.

He shook his head hoping, more for Severus's sake than anything else that the boy, Raven was on the side of light.

Or neutral.

Neutral would be the next best thing.

He sat by a roaring fire, far closer to the flames than any normal person could.

He had to find the half-breed. Things were moving far to quickly.

The half human boy had to be found. The fate of the world was in the balance.

"Raven must be found or all will be lost."

A.N.

Alright! Chapter 2 is done and far faster than I would have thought possible considering my inability to work when there is nothing else to do.

I'm curious as to what you think about the guy at the end. I hadn't planned to put that in there but it fits my plot line so I thought OK, since it was one of those ideas that get stuck in your brain and wont go away.

For those that didn't catch it the Poland incident took place in England and Dudley was the bully. Teldrom twisted the telling of the event.