Here you go, chapter 1. Hope you like it. Sorry for the wait.

Chapter 1

1st September 1989

As Hope waited in line with the other first years, her gaze wandered to the High Table where the professors sat. Her eyes first landed on the place at the centre of the table where an old wizard sat, a long, white beard covering the lower part of his face, and hair just as white and long falling on his shoulders and back. He wore half-moon spectacles that covered twinkling blue eyes, and robes and hat of a bright orange colour. The famous Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts.

She didn't linger on him for long though because, suddenly, like drawn by a force she couldn't understand, her stare shifted to the man at the end of the table, on the left, the side that overlooked the Slytherin students' table. The man – professor – was dressed all in black, with dark hair and eyes to match, a Roman nose and pale skin that looked sallow in the dim light of the hall.

The moment her green eyes focused on him, almost like he had sensed it, the professor turned to look at her. Hope felt a shiver going down her spine when those very dark eyes landed on her. She couldn't look away.

The professor didn't seem inclined to divert his eyes either and kept staring into hers intently, forehead creased into a frown. Hope couldn't interpret the expression on his face.

"Potter, Hope!" Professor McGonagall finally called out, bringing Hope back to the present moment.

Whispers broke out all over the hall as soon as her name was called.

Hope finally looked away from the dark professor and stepped forward.

"Potter, did she say?"

"Harry Potter's sister?"

Hope ignored them as best she could and sat on the stool, waiting to be sorted. The hat dropped on her head a moment later, covering the sight of the hundred eyes staring at her. In the next second, she was looking at the inside of the hat. She waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in her ear. "Very interesting. You could fit well in all four Houses, oh yes. Plenty of bravery, I see, and the courage to do what's right. And cleverness enough to please Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Loyal and hardworking like the best of Hufflepuffs and yet…yet I see a House that would fit you the best of all. But what do you think? Where should I put you?"

Hope gripped the edges of the stool, a way to anchor herself and stifle her nervousness. She thought about the question for a second before answering. "I don't know. I only know that…that I want to be powerful. I want to be great someday."

"You want to be great, eh? Well, then…there's only one House that can help you on your way to greatness. Better be…SLYTHERIN!"

Hope heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. She took off the hat with shaky fingers and noticed that the hall had gone silent. For every student that had been sorted, a round of applauses had followed, but not for her. Nobody clapped. Nobody moved, all looking at her with wariness in their eyes. Hope frowned, confused. Had she done something wrong?

Then she heard clapping from behind her and turned around. The dark professor was the one clapping for her. He inclined his head in her direction, an acknowledgement, a praise even. Well done, those eyes told her.

That seemed to prompt the slytherin students to do the same. Soon the entire table was applauding her. Hope smiled at him tentatively, feeling warmth suffusing her chest.

She walked to the Slytherin table and sat down in the place they had left free for her, together with the other first years that had already been sorted into what was now her House.

The sorting continued but Hope didn't pay attention. Instead she turned to the student closest to her, on her right, and asked, "who is that? The professor dressed all in black?"

"That's Professor Snape. It's the Potions Professor and our Head of House." The dark-haired boy answered. "Adrian Pucey," he introduced himself. "Nice to meet you."

"Hope Potter," she answered, shaking his hand.

5th September 1989

Hope forced herself not to fidget in her seat, nervous and excited all at once. She had been looking forward all week to this class, re-reading obsessively her Potions textbook and two other books as well on the subject, memorizing as much as she could, in preparation for this lesson. She didn't want to make a bad impression with her Head of House of all people.

Professor Snape stopped for a few long seconds after calling out her name, almost like he wanted to add something but didn't. Hope bit her lip, wondering once again if she had done something wrong. The professor didn't seem to dislike her exactly, and yet it didn't seem like he liked her very much either. It was more like he didn't know what to make of her.

Hope didn't let that discourage her though. She would prove to him that she belonged to Slytherin and to Hogwarts. She would make him proud and she would excel in Potions and in all other subjects, she decided. After all, her ambition was the main reason why she had been sorted into Slytherin House.

He finished calling the rest of the names on the roster and looked up at the class. His eyes were cold, empty, dark tunnels and yet Hope didn't feel afraid. She hadn't forgotten the kindness he had shown her when he had clapped for her when no one else had.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – Professor Snape, it seemed, had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..."

Hope listened to him, completely enraptured. The way he spoke of potions was so passionate, almost poetic.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death," Professor Snape continued. "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Hope couldn't wait to start brewing, eager to prove to Professor Snape that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Miss Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hope startled. Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood. She had read about this. It was some kind of sleeping potion. Draught of Sleeping Death? No, that wasn't right. "Draught of…draught of living death!" She exclaimed, a little too excitedly. Then in a more soft-spoken tone, she continued. "Adding powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood produces a potent sleeping draught called the Draught of Living Death."

Snape's lips curled into an expression that on anyone else's face might have been a smile. He inclined his head in approval, just like he had done at the feast. Another 'well done' from him.

"And where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" He asked her a second question, clearly testing her.

"Well, I would probably look in the classroom's store cupboard first." A few students laughed at her answer. Professor Snape didn't look amused so she hurried to answer. "However, that is not the answer you're looking for. A bezoar can be found in the stomach of a goat and it's an antidote for most common poisons."

Another almost-smile, another nod of his head. "Very well. And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hope frowned, not recognizing the term 'monkshood' but knowing what wolfsbane was. It was the major ingredient in the Wolfsbane potion, the potion werewolves could use to fight off the effect of the full moon. She also knew that it was also called aconite.

She widened her eyes. Could it be that simple?

"There is no difference," she answered, faking her tone of certainty. She wasn't sure at all she was right this time but she didn't want to show it.

Professor Snape peered at her. "Are you sure?"

Hope nodded her head and kept bluffing. "Yes, sir. They are the same plant. It's also known with the name aconite. And it's the major ingredient in the Wolfsbane potion," she added for good measure.

Now the expression on his face was decidedly a smile, small though it was and without showing teeth. "Well done, Miss Potter. 15 points to Slytherin."

Adrian patted her amicably on the back.

Hope smiled brilliantly at Professor Snape. That was the most points she had earned in a single lesson yet.

"Well? Why aren't you all copying what Miss Potter said down?" Snape barked then. There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment.

After that, professor Snape wrote the instructions on the board for the Cure for Boils, the potion they had to prepare for today's class, before putting them all into pairs. Hope paired up with Adrian since they were already sitting next to each other.

Hope was nervous again. She had never done this before and the most experience she had with something similar to preparing a potion was cooking for the Dursleys. She had tried to prepare as much as she could by reading the various techniques for slicing, chopping, dicing and crushing ingredients, but would it be enough?

"Hey, don't worry," Adrian told her. "You'll do just fine. And I'm here to help. I won't let you screw it up."

Hope chuckled. He was right. She'll do just fine, as long as she was careful.

Professor Snape swept around the class, his long black robe blowing behind him, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticising almost everyone who wore red and gold. Perhaps the rumours about him favouring slytherins over all the other houses was true after all. But since the slytherin students were distrusted and despised by all the other houses and even some of the professors, he was right in doing so.

Hope and Adrian, like all the other students, worked in silence for more than one hour, preparing the ingredients and following the instructions on the board very carefully. Hope re-read them more than once, to make sure they weren't missing anything. She even managed to grab Adrian's arm to stop him from adding the porcupine quills while the caldron was still over the fire.

"I thought you were supposed to be the one to stop me from screwing up?" She hissed at him and Adrian shrugged sheepishly.

Finally, their potion was ready, pink smoke rising from the cauldron. Professor Snape stopped at their caldron and Hope bit her lip in anticipation. Would their potion pass inspection?

Professor Snape took a look at their cauldron, lowered his rather large nose to sniff the fumes, then nodded. He looked at her and said, "Well done again, Miss Potter." Hope glowed at the praise and smiled at him once again.

Professor Snape turned to Adrian, "and you Mister Pucey, be thankful your housemate stopped you in time or you would have caused an explosion. See that it doesn't happen again."

Adrian lowered his head, ashamed. "No sir, I'll be more careful next time."

"See that you do. And Miss Potter, see me after class."

"Yes, sir," Hope answered, but she was confused. Had she done something wrong? She thought she was doing pretty well for her first class but perhaps professor Snape expected more for a student in his House.

Lesson over, Hope waited until all the other students had left the classroom then made her way to stand in front of professor Snape's desk.

"Don't look so frightened, Miss Potter. You're not in trouble," professor Snape said, and while his tone wasn't exactly reassuring, his face was almost gentle. "You were raised by muggles, were you not?"

"Yes, sir. My aunt and uncle."

"So today was your first attempt at brewing a potion?"

"Yes, sir."

"You did moderately well. And it pleases me to notice that you bothered opening a book and came prepared for my class. It bodes well for future lessons. However, your housemates have an advantage over you, seeing as most of them were raised in a wizarding household. You will always follow behind…unless you'd care to catch up."

"How would I do that?"

"It's rare for Slytherin House to have muggleborns or muggle-raised students, but not unprecedented. And when that happens, I offer these students the chance for extra-lessons so you might improve on your skills and raise to the same level as them, perhaps even surpasses them if you show enough promise. Would you be interested? I warn you, it would be hard work. I won't tolerate laziness and I won't waste my time."

Hope widened her eyes. "Would I be interested? Yes, of course. When can we start?"

"Tonight, after dinner," professor Snape replied, another almost-smile gracing his lips at her apparent enthusiasm.

"Great! How many lessons a week are we going to do?"

"Once a week every Friday should be enough for now. If I notice you require more hours, we'll add another lesson in the middle of the week, perhaps on Wednesday. Would it be acceptable to you?"

Hope grinned. "Perfectly acceptable, sir."

Professor Snape's lips turned up in another barely-there smile, his eyes almost kind. "Very good, off you go then."

"Thank you so much, sir," Hope told him before leaving his classroom.

14th July 1994

Hope woke up with a gasp and bolted upright in bed. There was a full-length mirror right in front of her bed and her reflection stared back at her, panting, dishevelled. Her reflection…but not truly. A beautiful seventeen-year-old girl stared at her from the mirror, with long, dark, wavy, messy hair, light olive skin and bright emerald green eyes, bright even in the semi-darkness of the room.

In the bed next to hers, Harry mumbled something, turned on his side and resumed sleeping.

Heart still racing, Hope observed her familiar yet unfamiliar surroundings: the white walls, the old, single wardrobe and the sturdy, mahogany desk pushed against the wall opposite the one her and Harry's bed rested, and over it the empty cage of Harry's snowy owl Hedwig, the school trunks at the foot of each bed, the small, open window filtering moonlight and painting everything in the room a soft silver.

This was hers and Harry's bedroom, she knew. She was at the Dursleys' house, their aunt Petunia Dursley, their mother's sister, their uncle Vernon Dursley and their cousin Dudley. This had been her and Harry's room since they had become too big to fit in the Cupboard under the Stairs when Harry had been 5 and Hope almost 8.

She was Hope Potter, sister to Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, daughter of Lily and James Potter who had died, killed by Lord Voldemort, when she was 3 and Harry 1. She would be 17 in two months and a half (the age of majority in the Wizarding World), and she would start her sixth year at Hogwarts while Harry would start his fourth.

And yet, she wasn't Hope Potter. She knew she wasn't, not really. She had all of Hope's memories, all of Hope's feelings, Hope's personality and looks but all of this – Harry, number four Privet Drive, Hogwarts – they weren't real, not truly. They were all part of a series of 7 books written by the British author J.K. Rowling.

And Hope Potter…Hope Potter didn't even exist in the original series. Harry Potter didn't have a sister. She'd wished to live in the world of Harry Potter and become the sister of the boy-who-lived and here she was. Even her appearance wasn't truly her own. She looked like she had wished she would look.

How was it possible? And why couldn't she remember who she used to be? She had no memory of the life she had led before. Her name, her age, who her parents or friends had been. Nothing. She remembered reading the Harry Potter book series more than once, she remembered exactly what happened in each book, but she couldn't remember her own name?

She had no idea how she had ended up here but she was Hope Potter now, for better or worse. And she felt like Hope Potter. In fact, before waking up, she had been dreaming about her sorting and then her first Potions' class. Those had been Hope's memories – her memories. Her life as Hope Potter felt more real that her own life from before, and it was no wonder since she had no memory of her life from before.

What was she supposed to do now?

Well, the answer was obvious, wasn't it? She had wished to be here for a reason. She didn't know whether she would be able to save everyone that died in the series – that would be impossible, after all Bertha Jorkins was probably already dead by this point and the muggle Frank would be soon – but she still planned on saving as many people as possible – one person in particular.

Severus Snape. She couldn't believe she lived in the same world as him now – her favourite character. But he wasn't just a character in a book anymore. He was real now. She knew him. She had so many memories of him. And yet it wasn't enough. She wanted more.

Hope Potter had been half in love with him since she had met him and he had first clapped his hands for her when she had been sorted into Slytherin and those feelings had only grown through the years the more time she would spend in his company and got to know him. Not that she had recognized what she was feeling or perhaps she hadn't wanted to recognize them because he was her teacher and therefore her feelings were completely inappropriate, and she had also thought that he would never return her feelings.

Hope didn't care now, though. She wanted him and she would have him, she decided. She had to be careful and not come on too strong but she would make Severus Snape fall in love with her. She didn't exactly know how but she would gain his love. She already had an advantage because she knew Snape liked her. He had never said so but she knew she was his favourite student.

A tawny owl carrying three envelopes, one of them large and square, flew inside the small room in Privet Drive, interrupting her thoughts. The owl landed on the covers of her bed and extended its right leg for her. Hope took the two letters with her name on it with shaky fingers, knowing already what one of them was. Her OWLs' results. The owl left the third letter, addressed to Harry, on the desk, and then, finally free of its burden, flew right back out, obviously not expecting an answer.

Hope first opened the letter that contained the list of supplies she would need for her new school year and then, finally, opened the letter that contained her OWLs' results.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Hope Euphemia Potter has achieved:

Ancient Runes O

Arithmancy O

Astronomy O

Care of Magical Creatures O

Charms O

Defense Against the Dark Arts O

Herbology O

History of Magic O

Potions O

Transfiguration O

Hope chuckled – ten OWLs, 10 Outstandings. Not bad at all. Even better than Hermione had done in the books.

But the letter with the list of supplies had given her an idea. She got up from her bed and went to her desk to compose a letter addressed to Professor Snape.

Dear Professor Snape,

I just received the letter with the list of supplies I would need for my sixth year at Hogwarts. I was wondering whether it would be too much trouble for you to accompany me to Diagon Alley at the end of July, perhaps before the 31st so I can also buy a birthday present for my brother.

I would understand if you are too busy though. I could take the Knight Bus and go alone; or I could just wait and go with the Weasleys as Harry and I are probably going to spend a few weeks with them this year as well, but it won't probably be until the end of August.

Let me know as soon as you can, please.

Yours,

Hope

Hope waited until Hedwig had returned from its night hunt and then sent the letter.

She received her answer the next night. She smiled at the terse reply that was typical Snape.

Miss Potter,

Don't you dare go to Diagon Alley alone. I will accompany you. I will arrive at your aunt's house the 30th of July, at precisely 9 o'clock. Be ready.

S

P.S. Well done on your OWLs.

Hope hugged the letter to her chest, feeling very much like a stupid schoolgirl with a crush…which was exactly what she was, after all. Snape hadn't actually said it but she knew that post scriptum meant that he was proud of her.

She couldn't wait for the 30th of July to arrive.