Chapter 8: Birthday Revelations

Harry Potter sat cross-legged on top of his trunk, staring at the bed with his head in his hands.

No matter how sleepy he was, he wasn't going to get in that bed in front of him.

It was a four-poster bed (similar to the beds at Hogwarts), with a very comfortable-looking mattress and a warm cover.

But he wasn't going to get in it.

It was draped with green and edged with silver. Snakes twined around the posts and slithered on the pillows.

Harry was not about to get in such a Slytherin bed. But, mind you, practically the whole house was furnished similarily- so he sat cross-legged on top of his trunk, staring at the green with his head in his hands.

How in the world could he be Snape's son? It just didn't work out right. He hated Snape and Snape hated him. Everyone always said how alike he was to James. And he was in Gryffindor.

But, echoed a voice in his head, the Sorting Hat tried to sort me into Slytherin.

Hmph, Harry thought to himself. Dumbledore said something a few years ago about how I belong in Gryffindor because of my choices…

That was because you were led to believe that you were a Gryffindor.

Harry blinked, finding a familiarity in the separate voice. But… but…

You know it's true. You're beginning to look and act like Snape, and all the evidence adds up to the one conclusion. There's no way that you could be Potter's son.

Harry snapped out of the reverie when he heard another voice talking with Snape down the hall. At first, Harry just listened and then took his attention away, thinking, It's probably all just a great big joke. They would have known a long time ago if Snape was my dad. It's all just a joke…

Harry listened to the voice conversing with Snape once more; this time, it was a bit more familiar. In curiosity, Harry paced to his door and peeked out, finally resolving to carefully step down the hallway (something he had not done at all during the day or two he'd been at Snape's house.

He slipped down the unfamiliar hallway and pressed his ear against a suspicious door- sure enough, he heard two muffled voices from that room.

"But you wouldn't believe how I've been treating him! I never knew!" Harry heard Snape exclaim.

Harry pulled an identity from the back of his memory to whom the second voice belonged to- the wizard who had picked him up from the park. He finally remembered his name to be Brevland.

"Ah, it's an easy mistake to make," Brevland said. "I know that the first thing I thought when I saw him last week was that he looked identical to Potter."

Harry scrunched up his nose and pressed his ear up harder, realizing that if Brevland was talking about him, he was wrong; at first glance, Harry had been mistaken for Snape himself.

"Yes, yes, you told me. That's what everyone says. But why did he have to? I'm morbified that my son looks just like my worst enemy!"

"Look in here. To rules over Of, although by only a small percentage."

"It does? Well no wonder! And he would have kept on acting like Potter if he hadn't been shipped over to those muggles."

"Yes. Personally, I'm glad he didn't stay with them- the Potters, I mean. And now that he's here, Of will surely dominate To, although no one can ever be sure… Where is he, anyway?"

"Cooped up in his room. He's too full of himself to go near anything green. Or perhaps he took me too seriously when I said to not get in my way."

"Not get in your way? Sev, what were you thinking? Of course he'd take that seriously!"

"Do you want him finding out what I did? How do you think he'd react? He's best friends with Weasley…"

"Get it out of your mind. You didn't kill Weasley. You-Know-Who killed him."

"I all but did! I was supposed to, anyhow. Actually, I don't even know if I did or didn't. I can't remember…"

"You told me that you didn't that very same night."

"I wasn't thinking right! What if I did killed him? Oh no, Brev, what if-"

"What if nothing. Even if you did you certainly didn't mean to…"

"But I remember now! I was standing right there! What am I going to do? I killed-"

Harry heard some distinct clatter in the room.

"Sh! Sevvie! Stop, it's not your fault! Don't make me- oh golly. Not again." Brevland heaved an impatient sigh. "Stupefy."

Harry's heart started beating at a rapid pace, only to intensify as he heard heavy footsteps walking toward the door he leaned against. Harry backed up, but could not run down the hall before it swung open- right into his face.

Harry jumped with surprise as the white paneled door swung into his face, concealing him between it and the wall as Brevland pounded down the hallway. He peered through the crack and watched him dissappear around the corner- with Snape, stunned and lifted over his shoulder. Harry blanched when he saw a thin, long scar run down the man's cheek.

Harry ambled into his room, and, feeling extremely light-headed, he sunk down to his trunk (almost toppling over on his wobbly knees). But as he sat, he only held onto his consciousness a second longer before his eyes glazed over.

A strong sense of deja-vu returned as he found himself in the same haunting dream that he had had the day of the attack. This time, he only stood by the tall, overshadowing man who brandished his wand at Percy Weasley. The thin scar divided his face, and Harry remembered who this was… His father, standing with Voldemort… and queasy comprehension swept over him…

Well, anyway, both Harry and Snape turned out to be physically fine when they woke up again, although Snape sometimes went through similar random periods of delirium (which always cleared up quickly).

However, Harry remembered the whole conversation in full detail, and pondered long, despairing hours over the memory.

A few days after this incident, in the young hours of the morning, Harry squeezed open his eyes in response to a raucous knocking on the door to his room.

"Potter!" Snape yelled in. "We're going to Diagon Alley whether you want to or not! I'm expecting you down in ten minutes." Harry sat up and looked at his watch, wincing as it glowed the message, "Time for you to go back to sleep! *Yawn*".

He stood up, still half-asleep, stretching his back that ached from sleeping on the hard surface of his trunk. He quickly slipped on a robe (since Snape demanded that he wear proper wizarding clothes in his prescence) and was ready when Snape barged in and herded him out the door.

As they walked out the door, Harry took another good look at Snape's face. The scar had dissappeared… Had he been imagining it?

Snape's voice jolted him awake. "Grab hold of this, Potter," he said, producing a worn quill. "It will-"

"Er, are we going by portkey, Professor?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Potter! Don't interrupt me! As I was saying… er… saying… You've made me forget, boy." Snape sneered. "Just grab the portkey already." He thrust the quill into Harry's hands.

"Oh, but Professor, couldn't we have gone by floo or something?" Portkeys brought up rather bad memories.

Snape slowy turned around to face him, and said menacingly, "Slytherins never go by floo, Potter." He made a face and gripped his left arm.

"But I'm not a-" Thinking better of talking back, Harry sighed and held out a finger to the old quill, ready for the all too familiar gutteral jerk.

Harry and Snape were instantly pulled forward, and landed with a thud on the brick paveway of Diagon Alley.

"Professor, didn't we have to go through the Leaky Cauldron to get here?"

Snape didn't answer, but muttered inaudibly about how Gryffindors never had any common sense.

Snape first hauled him to Flourish and Blott's for his new books.

a/n: Please, spare me! This is way to boring to write about… Basically, they go in, get books, and go out without any special event whatsoever… I'm sure y'all want to get to the good part!

As Harry trailed after Snape down the street, dragging his books in his cauldron behind him, he heard voices behind him.

"Harry! Over here!" Harry looked over his shoulder and saw two figures waving to him. He grinned and jogged back to the little table in front of Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor where Ron and Hermione sat, slurping ice cream in the hot sun. He heard Snape rush after him, cursing about how many times he needed to pull him from distractions (Snape had already tugged Harry past Quality Quidditch Supplies and the Magical Menagerie).

Ron, upon seeing Snape, shot the usual dagger-glare at him, but became confused as Snape looked at him in horror, slapped a hand to his cheek, and ran off.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked.

Harry sighed. He was still unsure of what had happened. "I dunno… I think he was there when Perc-"

Harry was abruptly interrupted. "Ahem! Anyway, happy birthday, Harry! How have you been doing?"

Harry gawped at Hermione a second or two, a little shaken at being interrupted, and said, "It's my birthday? Oh, yeah, that would make sense…" He trailed off. "I'm alright. Well, as alright as you can get when you've been at Snape's house for the past couple of days."

Ron licked his ice cream. "Did- was Snape, well, alright?" He asked skeptically.

Harry scowled. "Every inch of that house is covered with green, silver, or snake. Well, he wanted me to stay in my room almost the whole time, and all of that was covered in green. The bed itself was covered in snakes."

"You didn't!"

"No, I could sit on my trunk, it wasn't all that bad…"

Ron let out a sigh. "Whew! I thought for a moment that you were going to go Slytherin on us!"

Hermione glared at Ron. "Of course you wouldn't! The sorting hat would have put you in Slytherin, not Gryffindor."

"Yeah, and I prob-"

Suddenly, Harry had a flash a disturbing memory- one that he had been thinking about earlier.

Not Slytherin, eh? You could be great, you know… It's all here in your head…

Harry shook himself and continued. "Er- yeah… my mum was probably in Gryffindor, so that's why I'm in Gryffindor." Harry remembered again that Dumbledore said something about how he belonged in Gryffindor, because he chose to be there. Which reminded him-

"Do you know where Dumbledore is? I thought I'd see him when they made me go with Snape."

Ron pursed his lips. "Tahiti. He's negotiating some sort of thing with the Tahitian Minister of Magic- at least, that's what my dad said. Dunno what he's up to."

"Actually, I read in Hogwarts, a History that Hogwarts has an important Gringotts outlet on one of the Tahitian islands. He may be visiting it for something rather," Hermione said.

"Does he even know I'm staying at Snape's house?" Harry asked.

"No, I don't think so… He's been gone a long time-"

Ron was interrupted by Snape striding up from behind them and grabbing Harry's arm as he walked past. Harry just had enough time to shout out a muffled "Goodbye!" to his friends, when he was pulled into the crowd. He faintly realized that one of them had dropped an ice cream cone into his hand with color-changing icing on the cone which read, "Happy Birthday, Harry!" He added a word of thanks back to Ron and Hermione before they were out of earshot.

"Just what do you think you're doing with that, Potter?" Snape said sourly. He took a sidelong glance at it and smirked at the writing on the cone. "Is it your birthday?" He demanded. Harry nodded slowly. "Well then walk faster!" Snape exclaimed, turning and heading the other way.

After a minute or two of fast-paced walking, Snape and Harry arrived at one of the more distinguished apothecaries on Diagon Alley. Harry scrunched up his nose, sniffing the sweet and peculiar fumes as they entered the shop.

"Um, we already got some ingredients, professor," Harry said uncertainly.

Snape glared at Harry. "Do you really think I'm going to use the stale ingredients from last year in my private stores? No wonder…" Snape shook his head and continued measuring some fine powdered ingredients from the bulk area.

When he was finished, Snape took the ingredients to the counter.

"Is that all, sir?" The spectacled witch asked him, weighing the leather pouches on silver scales. "Remember that this gillyweed is especially tender and needs to be kept cool at all times. It is already under a refrigerating charm, but it will wear off eventually."

In reply, Snape only gave a curt nod and a cold "thank you" before clutching the jars and bags and heading outside.

Harry was quite surprised when Snape gingerly placed a few flasks of glowing, perfectly seasoned ingredients into his cauldron.

"Do I need these for class, professor?" Harry asked, peering at the ingredients.

Snape sighed. "I'm sure that you can recognize a birthday present from your father when you see one, Potter," Snape said with a voice weighted in sarcasm.

Harry looked dumbfoundedly at the present, and said uncertainly, "Um, thanks…"

He swatted a mosquito from some of the powder and looked up again. He stumbled back when he saw Snape's face.

He had that scar again. Slashed right across, just like the one in the Evening Prophet's picture.

Only Harry saw it as Snape held out the portkey for him to go back to the little Slytherin cottage.

Extra tidbit of the day: more HP sounding names!

Frederick Flippler

Gustave Gillyhein

Helena Hoglafson

Ingrid Illiosophe

Jacob Jerthop