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Stars

Chapter 3: Southern Cross

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Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character.

A/N: This is in response to hwyla: You're right in saying that texting and such weren't invented in 1980s. I totally forgot about that point. I try to do as much research as possible, but this little point seems to have slipped my mind. Thanks for pointing it out. I'll correct it. I'll try to keep my technology straight, though it's hard considering what we have today compared to what we had 30 years ago. I wasn't alive 30 years ago so…

I totally need a beta. If someone could recommend someone good or themselves, that would be great…

-0-

Severus Snape was certain he was going to hate James Potter's spawn, even before he met him.

It did occur to him that, perhaps he wasn't being fair. After all, the child had done nothing to him. Not personally, anyway. Nothing that he could have prevented or stopped. But he couldn't help but picture in his mind the perfect carbon copy of James Potter. Rumor had it, Harry Potter had his mother's eyes.

Snape looked down at his plate, ignoring the quivering Quirrell. The students had started to arrive, but the First Years were still crossing the lake. Tradition and all.

"Severus, don't look so down," Dumbledore said gently. "Harry Potter will be joining us this year."

Snape sent the Headmaster a deep glare and turned away from him in disgust. Dumbledore chuckled and sipped from his glass, leaving Snape to brood over the mystery of Harry Potter.

Dumbledore had told them that he had dropped off Harry with his aunt. Knowing Petunia, Snape knew that the child would not have had a happy childhood. The child might have actually been abused. It wouldn't have been the first time that the Headmaster had purposefully sent an orphan back to their place of abuse.

Still, there was always the possibility that Petunia grew up like a normal person and treated young Potter like a normal kid. Snape kind of doubted it, but the possibility was there.

On the other hand, it was also possible that the little brat was just as spoiled as his father. No mannered, absolutely no regard for authority, no respect whatsoever…

The Great Hall doors swung open. Snape glared at the first year students, trying to spot the messy head of James Potter that would have indeed belonged to his son.

To his great surprise, it was missing. Snape's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he scanned the crowd again. There were no carbon copies of James Potter in the crowd of students. While that was odd, it wasn't definite. Perhaps the boy simply grew up to resemble his mother more. Snape wasn't sure if that was better or worse than being a carbon copy of James Potter.

Snape gripped his robes tightly, frowning a little. Well, perhaps the little brat was just hidden in the crowd and he had missed him. He would get to see him when he came up to be sorted, after all.

Watching Minerva go through the list every year was a bore, but he did note, with some pride, that Draco Malfoy went into Slytherin. Hermione Granger, on the other hand, went to Ravenclaw.

Snape was jerked out of his daze when Minerva called out, "Potter-Rowan, Harry!"

A boy stepped up towards the front of the stool. To Snape's surprise, he looked nothing like Lily or James. His robes were neat and tidy, his hair was as black as the night sky, though as the candle light flickered, Snape could see several strands of silver in the black. It was shoulder length, but pulled back in a high ponytail, tied with a red ribbon. Someone had cut bangs for the child, as it was covering his scar and framing the young boy's face. Grudgingly, Snape admitted that it looked very good on the boy.

His hands were slim and slender, a mark of someone who didn't do much manual labor, but wrote a lot. His face was full and his skin unblemished. His wrists were thicker than his classmates though, which made Snape wonder what the child had been doing. And those eyes… Merlin, Lily's green eyes were bright, but her child's seemed to be glowing.

The way that Potter strode to the stool was graceful. Not a hint of fidgeting or a finger of wasted movement. Snape was tempted to say that the boy was practicing some sort of martial art. Potter's shoes made very little noise on the marble floor of the Great Hall, despite the soles being made of rubber and plastic. He had glasses on, but they were almost invisible on his face.

Potter sat on the stool, letting Minerva settle the hat over his head and eyes. There was a long silence, one which Snape held his breath for. This wasn't James Potter's son. Nor was it Lily's son. This was someone else entirely.

Oh Petunia. What have you done to this child? Snape thought, feeling a little light headed. The brim of the Sorting Hat opened and a word was shouted throughout the hall.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Snape gaped. No! No! That was impossible! James Potter—the perfect embodiment of a Gryffindor. His son is a Slytherin?!

But apparently, it was. Snape watched as Minerva removed the hat and Harry slid off the stool to join his classmates at the Slytherin table. The Slytherins seemed quite disgruntled as well, but most of the first years still gave him a polite nod. Only Draco Malfoy seemed wholeheartedly welcoming Harry into the Snake's den, grinning and clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Snape had to take several deep breaths to calm himself. Okay. Okay. So Potter was a Slytherin. He could get through this. I can get through this. This is only for the next seven years…

Merlin, seven years with his worst enemy's son!

Snape took a discrete look at the Headmaster's chair. Dumbledore seemed shocked stiff, as if he couldn't believe it. Then the Headmaster seemed to gather his wits and sigh in resignation before nodding a little. Snape snorted into his hand.

It was then that Potter's name really hit him. Did Minerva really say "Potter-Rowan"? Who was Rowan? And why did Potter take his last name? And why did Petunia let the child dye only several strands of his hair silvery white? What was she thinking?!

Granted, it didn't look terrible on the child. Snape watched as Harry smiled at something Draco whispered to him and then reached back to untie his hair. The black curtain of hair fell past the boy's shoulder blades, silvery white strands appearing like stars in the black night sky. Then the boy retied his hair up, nodding at Draco and looking back at the sorting.

Snape looked at Minerva as she rejoined the staff table after the sorting before leaning towards her. "Why does Potter have two last names?"

Minerva blinked and said, "I assume it's because he wanted to take it after the wizard who adopted him finalized every—wait, you weren't there for the meeting."

Snape looked at her blankly and then waited for the Feast to start so he could continue questioning her. Once the food was on the table, he turned back to her.

"No. I wasn't. So what happened?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows at her. "And why does Potter look so… different than his father or his mother?"

"Well, the no good Aunt of his made a run for it," Minerva said. "And the wizard that moved in her house saw Harry and decided to take him in."

"I thought we were trying to keep him away from his fame," Snape said blankly.

"When I visited, the man seemed to be foreign. He was fixing his mailbox, repeating "Ah-yah, not enough wood" the muggle way, which made sense I suppose, since he was living in a muggle neighborhood. Harry was weeding the garden and calling his dad over to look at the flowers that bloomed," Minerva said calmly.

"What did his dad look like?" Snape asked, taking a slice of chicken and drowning it in gravy.

"White hair… whiter than newly fallen snow. Pale complexion. He had dark eyes though," Minerva said while taking some mashed potatoes. "He had a fine build for a young man. Slim and muscular. Strangely enough, he didn't carry a wand on his person. I caught no sign of a wand holster or a wand sticking out of any of his pockets."

"How do you know he's a wizard then? He could be a muggle," Snape said, a sneer on his face as he cut up his chicken.

"Anyone who can wordlessly and wandlessly open the front door in an unsuspecting muggle community can be nothing less than an advanced wizard," Minerva said. Her voice dropped and she whispered, "I haven't told Albus this, but I've visited them more than once. The things that man is capable of are unbelievable. He mentioned the wards to young Harry, but he glanced at me more than once, as if he knew I was listening. He also invited me more than once into his home, though I never went in. He performed all sorts of magic without a wand and without speaking. It was truly incredible."

Snape raised his eyebrow and looked at Harry, who seemed to be quite unhurried in his meal, compared to his mess housemates. Draco was following Harry's example, though Goyle and Crabbe seemed to be stuffing their face as if it would all disappear.

"Is he really that incredible?" Snape asked.

"Quite. And I look forward to see Mr. Potter-Rowan in my class. If you're curious, you can go visit Mr. Potter-Rowan's father. It wouldn't be that unusual for their head of house to visit their family," Minerva said. "I think Mr. Rowan had done a fine job in raising young Harry. Though I wonder why the Sorting Hat put Mr. Potter-Rowan in Slytherin."

"I wonder too," Snape said, sighing.

Perhaps it would do him good to see where Mr. Potter had been living.

-0-

When Snape arrived in Privet Drive, he sneered at the cookie cutter houses and the plainness of it all. Still, in this plain neighborhood, one would never guess that the person living in one of the houses was a wizard. It was Monday evening, and he didn't have any classes Tuesday, so he was well equipped for visiting.

He approached number four warily. Minerva had mentioned wards, so, understandably, he was cautious. What kind of wards were they? What did they do? Were they painful? He gave a sigh and knocked twice at the door, waiting for an answer.

A light turned on somewhere in the house and the door opened. Snape came face-to-face with the man who raised Harry Potter.

"I am here… to speak about Harry Potter-Rowan," Snape gritted out, trying to remain polite. He took in the man's stark white hair and his slim appearance. The wizard was wearing muggle clothes, a rather nice deep red dress shirt and white pants. He was barefoot, but that was hardly unusual.

"Come in then. He hasn't done anything insane, has he? He's only been there for a day," the man said tiredly, stepping back so Snape could enter. "Please remove your shoes. I have just washed the floors."

Snape stepped into the house, feeling a jolt run through his body. He looked surprised at the doorway. So that was one of the wards Minerva spoke about? He removed his shoes and placed them on a shoe rack before stepping into the house with his socks.

Strangely, the man's feet made no noise on the polished wooden floors. The man turned to him and said, "Tea?" Snape noted his eyes were actually black or brown.

"Please," Snape said. The man directed him towards a chair in the living room and Snape sat, marveling at the simple, but tasteful decorations. The rug and couches had an oriental flair, the picture frames were made of some kind of reddish wood, and the table was made out of a simple light oak. Still, put together, it was a very cozy home.

Snape looked at the pictures on the wall above the fireplace. There was one of Harry when he was a baby, playing with some kind of muggle toy. Another of Rowan sitting with Harry at a restaurant when Harry appeared to be six or seven. And a third of Harry wearing a deep green oriental outfit with silver flowers embroidered into the fabric. Harry appeared to be around ten.

Snape inspected the table. It was round, smooth, and polished, with lightly curved feet. Then he turned his head to look at the fireplace.

The fire was missing, but since it was warm in the house, Snape found that it didn't bother him.

All in all, it didn't look like a wizard's house at all. It looked like a muggle house.

Rowan returned to the living room, levitating a tea set while holding a plate of rice crackers. With a simple wave of his hand, the tea set lowered itself onto the round table. Rowan placed the rice crackers on the table as well, then waved his hand again.

Snape watched in astonishment as the teapot poured out tea without spilling a single drop directly in one of the teacups.

"Do you take milk or sugar in your black tea?" Rowan asked.

"No," Snape replied. Rowan waved his hand again and the teacup and saucer flew towards Snape. Snape caught it and looked at the handle, unsure.

"So, what have you come for?" Rowan asked. "You never answered my question. What has Harry done?"

"Nothing, as of yet," Snape replied. "I merely came to see the living conditions of the child in my house. He was sorted into Slytherin. My name is Severus Snape."

Rowan seemed unsurprised at this. He poured out another cup of tea wandlessly and picked it up. "Cygnus Rowan is my name." He sipped the tea and sighed a little. "Do you usually come to see the living conditions of your students?"

"No," Snape said honestly. "But I was just so… surprised by how he is. He resembles you a bit."

Now that Snape looked at Rowan, he could see some similarities. The shape of the face, the hair, the build… Perhaps it could be explained by Potter's diet.

"And my colleague tells me of a man who can perform wandless, non-verbal magic," Snape said. "I wanted to confirm this myself."

Rowan gave him a smile. "I see. Is it truly that unusual to perform wandless, non-verbal magic? I haven't used a wand since I was a child. And there are no specific incantations that I had learned as a child, so I suppose my silence is a part of my upbringing."

"In Britain, you'd be lucky to find just one," Snape said, nodding. "I was also told you could set up wards."

Rowan didn't reply at first, looking down at his tea. "I can. You passed one of my wards when you entered."

"How safe are they?" Snape asked.

Rowan smiled. It was a smile that was neither humorous nor sad. It was a resigned smile. Snape hesitated and was just about to retract his question before Rowan replied.

"That is to say, you with to test them? You wish to test me? My ability to protect Harry? Were you sent by Albus Dumbledore then?" Rowan asked.

Snape hesitated again before nodding. "If I may?"

Rowan nodded a little before saying, "My house wards prevents magic from getting out and magic from coming in. It prevents unwelcome intruders. There is a legend that a vampire cannot enter unless invited. I invited you, so you could enter. Well, if you weren't invited and attempted to force your way in, it would have not been pretty."

He stood and beckoned Snape to follow. "I have Harry train with his magic in our training room. He works every day, at six PM sharp, on his magic until dinner." Rowan opened a door and gestured Snape in before turning on the lights.

The ground and walls were all made of wood. Oak, Snape would have guessed. In addition, the walls had some type of ink written on it in words that Snape had never seen before.

"I finished reapplying the wards this morning. You may test them. Try breaking down the walls of this training room," Rowan said, casually. He placed a hand on the wall and the runes shined brightly before sinking into the walls of the training room.

"In any way I would like?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows at Rowan. Rowan returned the gesture.

"In any way you would like," Rowan confirmed. "This room is separated from my house, so if it does catch on fire… somehow… then the house will not burn down with it. But be my guest. Anyway you would like."

Two hours later, an exhausted Snape later, and a relatively amused Rowan later, Snape grudgingly admitted that the wards were very strong. Most magic dissipated before even hitting the wall and the magic that did get through hit a second ward, shattering into thousands of pieces. Snape turned to the doorway, where Rowan had been standing, and found it empty. Rowen must have gotten bored with watching him fling hexes and curses towards the wall and gone back to the living room.

To Snape's surprise, when he arrived back in the living room, he found Rowan lightly dozing in a chair. Snape hesitated before placing his hand on Rowan's shoulder, lightly shaking him. Rowan gave a soft "hm?" and looked up, his eyes sleepy.

"I have finished testing them. They seem sufficient," Snape said.

Rowan nodded before stretching and getting up off the chair. "You're leaving then?"

"Quite," Snape said, a frown on his face. Rowan nodded and gestured to the front door.

"Have a safe trip then," Rowan said, waving him out.

It wasn't until Snape was back in the village of Hogsmead did he recall that he had forgotten to ask Rowan why Potter looked so much like him.

-0-

Snape was not looking forwards to Potions on Friday.

It wasn't so much Potter, that it was the Gryffindor/Slytherin class. Somehow, somehow, the class always got into trouble.

He was pleased to note that Rowan had warded Potter's trunk from any outside intrusions. Snape wasn't blind. He was fairly sure that someone had tried to do something to Potter's trunk or sleeping area. Potter seemed oblivious to the animosity of his housemates, though Rowan seemed to know, or at least, was prepared for such a thing.

Snape was half glad that Rowan was so cautious. This surely reduced the stress that Potter was going to be attacked, messed with, or controlled. Especially since Quirrell had his eyes out on Potter.

Severus sighed before billowing into the classroom for his Fourth Year class. He would think about the problem with Potter later. For now, he had to make sure none of the Hufflepuffs blew up their cauldron.

On Friday, Snape had just about enough of incompetent students and their stupid experimenting techniques. Didn't they understand that potions was very dangerous and had to be exercised with extreme caution? There was no wonder that most of his class would never make it past OWL standards.

Harry Potter strode into the room, his book bag swung over his shoulder. Snape did a double take… was that a muggle messenger bag?

Draco walked in, side-by-side with Potter, looking wistful.

"Muggle invention? It beats carrying our books by hand," Draco was saying, looking impressed. "And adjustable too. We could probably find a spell to adjust it with magic, but since we haven't learned it yet, it would be useful to have something like that."

"My dad likes it when I have all my stuff in one place," Potter was saying. "It's easier to ward the bag than each individual item." He smiled at Draco, taking a seat in the first row, on the very left of the classroom. Draco sat next to him.

"I never knew muggles had so many things to help them with their daily lives," Draco said, nodding. "My father was a bit blown away when he walked into an Asian Magic and Muggle store. To be honest, he was a bit startled when he noticed that muggles and wizards interacted like there was no difference between them."

"It beats trying to hide," Potter said, nodding. "So was your dad impressed?"

Draco laughed. "He acted like he wasn't, but I knew he was. You should have seen the gleam in his eye when the salesman mentioned that Rowan was a well-known warding family in Taiwan. The salesman was from Taiwan too. I wouldn't be surprised if he was doing research on your dad."

"Good luck to him then. There isn't much about my dad that he could find," Potter said honestly. "He lived up in the mountains. In a house near the peak. Dad told me that he had to climb down the mountain every day to get to school and climb up the mountain every night."

"A mountain?" Draco asked. "What kind of insane, crazy people are your grandparents?!"

"Well, they grew winter squash. So… Yeah," Potter said nonchalantly.

"Your family is weird," Draco said, looking at Potter like he was insane.

Potter laughed. "This is coming from the kid who lives in a mansion and wears robes on a daily bases?"

"My father always said, if you have it, than show it," Draco said indignantly. "And robes are comfortable."

"It sticks out in a crowd like a sore thumb. And why would you flaunt off your wealth so people know which house to rob?" Potter asked, amused. Draco huffed.

"Not like muggles can find our house. We don't have muggle neighbors," Draco defended.

"You don't get magical robbers?" Potter asked, impressed.

"Not since our family is known to have cursed artifacts," Draco said. "Most people avoid coming."

"Well, I suppose that's one thing," Potter relented.

"Settle down," Snape said, looking around at the students. While Draco and Potter's conversation was enlightening, they really needed to start class. Potter pulled out a notebook and a quill, setting it to the side before pulling out his potion's book too. Well, at least he was prepared.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. Potter's eyes glanced from his face to the front table where Snape had several potions on. Snape snorted before flipping open his attendance sheet and began to take role. He stopped at Potter's name.

"Ah… Mister Potter-Rowan," Snape sneered, looking at the boy with distaste. The boy lifted his chin up and raised his hand.

"Yes, what is it?" Snape asked, frowning.

"Rowan is fine," Potter said, lowering his hand. "I rather like to avoid the memories that come with the name Potter."

There was a silence. The entire class held their breath. Draco elbowed Potter in the ribs as Snape surveyed him.

"And… pray tell, what memories would that be?" Snape sneered. Surely this boy wouldn't have any memories of…

"The memory of my mother screaming as she was hit by the killing curse, he-who-must-not-be-named laughing, and then getting hit by the killing curse myself," Potter said, in such a flat tone that caused a ripple of stunned silence. Draco gave a soft groan. It was clear that Potter had requested this of the other teachers, but Snape had been the only one to actually ask why.

Snape's mouth opened and then he shut it again, lost for words. This boy actually remembered that?! He remembered that?! He collected his wits and took a deep breath. "Very well, Mr. Rowan."

"Thank you, sir," Potter—Rowan said calmly.

Snape turned to the board, feeling very drained. Dear Merlin, this was going to be a long day.

-0-

Snape looked around at the staff meeting table, drumming his fingers on the wood. His mind was still on the Potion's class he had earlier today. Potter—Rowan seemed… so at ease speaking about the murder of his mother. Snape wondered if the child had nightmares from the incident. Perhaps he had and had approached his father about it. The elder Rowan seemed to be quite understanding.

"Mr. Rowan seemed quite insistent I called him Rowan and not Potter," Minerva said, shaking her head. "Albus, that boy is just a normal eleven year old. His spellwork was average… perhaps just a little above average when compared to his classmates. Only Ms. Granger had made any significant progress with her matchstick."

"Ah, well, you've only had one class with him, haven't you?" Albus Dumbledore reminded. "I'm sure he'll catch up soon. What about you, Severus. What have you learned from Mr. Potter?"

"Rowan," Snape corrected, feeling a chill down his spine when he heard the name Potter. "It's Mr. Rowan. And he remembers clearly the day his mother was murdered and when he got hit in the face with the killing curse. He also remembers the Dark Lord laughing. Which is why he does not like the name Potter."

The entire staffroom hushed. Sprout looked like she was going to cry and Flitwick toppled off his chair. With some level of satisfaction, Snape watched as Dumbledore's face paled until he looked as white as the elder Rowan's hair.

"Poor child," Sprout whispered, gripping her handkerchief. "He was so young when it happened. Did he seem distressed?"

"No," Snape answered honestly. "He didn't. Meaning that he has come to terms about it happening. He probably spoke about it with his father, whom I have had the pleasure to meet."

"What's he like?" Sprout asked, leaning forward, looking interested.

"He's… powerful," Snape said, hesitantly, wondering how much he should give away. "Unusual. Different. He moved here from Asia. Apparently the magical community in Asia is far more integrated with its muggle counterpart than ours is."

"I see…" Dumbledore said slowly, looking thoughtful. "I might have to do some research on the Asian Ministry. Then again, they don't like outsiders very much."

"No," Flitwick said, shaking his head. "It's better if you don't, Albus. The Asian Ministry is very closed off about its practices and traditions. Leave them be. If they want to share, then they will. Otherwise, it would be best to avoid them. Asian muggles often possess some level of spiritual awareness, which means that they can see through glamours and notice-me-not charms. And memory charms are completely out of the question in Asia. It was outlawed centuries ago."

Snape was beginning to wonder if Potter—Rowan's attitude towards robes wasn't completely unfounded. It was true that the magical community stood out like a sore thumb in comparison to their muggle counterparts. Even in Britain, some muggles did have some level of spiritual awareness and could see through charms.

Perhaps the Asian community was actually onto something by integrating with the muggle world.

"Why is that, Filius?" Sprout asked. "Why were memory charms outlawed?"

"Well, in 1745, a Ministry worker was ordered to Obliviate a muggle who had seen magic being performed. The first attempt failed. So did the second and third attempt," Flitwick squeaked. "So they sent their best obliviator. The spell did so much damage that it wiped out his memory completely with no way to restore it. His entire community collapsed. It was a really big mess to clean up." The tiny teacher gave a small smile. "So memory charms were outlawed."

"So what happens when someone does use a memory charm," Snape asked, leaning on the table, looking interested.

"No one knows. But the person who used it is never heard from again, so I would assume nothing good," Flitwick said, shrugging. "At least, the Asian Ministry has not released on what it does to people who have done something like a memory charm."

There was a tense silence and then Snape sighed.

"Moving on…"

-0-