"I asked, Potter, what are you doing here? Or has your place on this filthy floor made you lose brain cells?" Harry flushed. The floor wasn't filthy; he had been cleaning it for a long time, damn it!

"Now, Severus, don't be distracting my workers! You can talk after he gets off." Tom interjected from his place behind the counter. Snape sneered.

"I'll see you then, Potter." Harry sent the potion master a murderous glare, before turning around and heading to the kitchen. He'd take his anger out on the onions.

Work was tense, to put it lightly. Every time he went out to serve a customer, something he greatly enjoyed, Snape's eyes would instantly snap to him and follow him until he went back behind the counter. What the hell did he want? What was so detrimental that Snape decided to stay and watch him was worth it? Harry didn't know and didn't plan to find out.

As the customers started trickling in a lot slower, Harry got to cleaning the kitchen. Dinner was served forty-five minutes ago and would be out for another hour or so. Tom always did the dinner clean-up so Harry could get a little work done before heading to bed. Sticking his head out, Harry noticed Snape wasn't in his usual spot.

Chancing it, Harry said night to Tom and damn near bolted up the stairs to his room. However, he soon found out why Snape wasn't in his spot. He was in front of Harry's bloody door.

"I figured you would try and hide up here," Snape sneered. "Now, care to explain what you're doing here instead of your Aunt and Uncles?"

"Not to you." Harry snapped. "Just get out of my way, you're not my professor for another two months." Snape glared at him.

"I'll have you know, boy, that Albus is out there looking for you at this very moment. So, unless you want me to take you to him and have you carted back, you better explain."

Harry felt his blood run cold. He couldn't go back there. Not while he looked, well, like himself. The look on Petunias' face was enough to hold him back from even thinking that. You look just like them she had yelled. Like who? Maybe Petunia had known his sperm donor, as Grungewhipper had called him. Thinking "dad" felt weird. James was his Dad. Harry cracked his knuckles in his palm.

"Move out the way, I'll explain."

With Snape in and waiting in his "library" area, Harry stared at himself in the bathroom. His face, glistening with water, was paler than normal. Or, his new normal. 'Probably because of Snape' Harry thought to himself. Harry ran a hand through his curls, pushing back the soft front pieces he used to cover his scar. His forehead wasn't fully covered, like Lavender Browns' bangs, but it was covered enough that people didn't immediately recognise him as Harry Potter. The back of his hair, after growing out a little, began to softly curl at the ends, offering differing sections of curls around his head.

"I don't have all day Potter " He heard. Steeling himself, Harry pulled the door open and went to the plush brown chair by his stack of books. It seems Snape had conjured a chair to not take Harry's. 'Git' thought Harry.

Snape gave him a look that practically screamed "Get on with it". Harry stared at him for a few seconds, taking in his hair. It wasn't greasy today, meaning Snape hadn't been brewing or had showered.

"Basically, long story short, I woke up looking like my mum, my aunt kicked me out, and I got a job here." Snape blinked and let out a derisive snort. Harry found himself feeling pilloried by it but forced himself to speak up rather than hide away. "Fine, if you don't believe me, I have nothing left to say. Get out."

"You have no proof, boy. I might as well send Dumbledore to you right now." Snape growled. Harry's insides burned. This bloody fucking-

"If you want, proof, here!" Harry stomped to his bedside table and pulled out the paper Grungewhipper had given him and slapped it into the professor's chest. Snape read it, and it was like watching a man die. His pupils went through meiosis (a word he learned from Hermione) and his skin turned a pale shade of grey.

"You mean to tell me-"

"I don't wanna talk about it!" Harry interjected. "But there's your damn proof." It was like the fire under Harry had disappeared, and he was almost tearful. "Don't tell Dumbledore. Please." Well shit. Harry turned around as if he was fixing his bedside table, but truthfully he was wiping his eyes.

"You. You have my word, Potter." Snape placed the paper on the bedside table, opened the door, and left. Billowing robes and all. Harry sat down in his chair and slumped. Bloody hell.

Harry Potter could be his fucking son. Harry Bloody Potter could be Severus Snape's son. Severus didn't know what to think.

The paper made him think, and remember things he had promised to forget. Things he had begged Albus to wipe from his mind, only to be told to deal with it. Lily's smell filled his nose, and suddenly Severus couldn't breathe. Severus appeared straight into his house at Spinner's End.

The thought of them together, that night, filled his head. Lily's pale skin against his own, her hair split out on the bed, her breath in his ear as she- NO! Severus used every ounce of training he had ever received to shut those memories out. His occlumency shields were low due to the shock of finding out Harry Potter could be his son. Could be. Probably wasn't. Severus sat down at his dinner table and summoned a bottle of fire whiskey.

His mind racing, Severus let his questions consume him. Yes, he and Lily had done things, after a bad day, but it was only once. When he had awoken, Lily was gone, with breakfast on the table and a note saying how sorry she was. He had burned the letter and tossed the breakfast.

Just because he had sex doesn't mean that some obnoxious child was his. Lily could have seen anyone during the break. It could be anyone's child. Well, except Potter's. He snorted in disbelief. Harry Potter wasn't his son. Hell, Sirius Black was a more likely possibility. Yet Severus had that nagging voice in the back of his head, constantly saying what if. Severus didn't wanna give in to those rancid thoughts.

That gave him an idea. The goblin magic would be able to tell if Severus was a father! Severus had copied the paper while Potter had his back turned, and had taken the real one to examine closely. Unfolding it, he laid it on his table. A shot of fire whiskey later, Severus spoke the dreaded words.

"I recognize Harry Silas Potter as my son and my heir." Nothing happened, and Severus laughed. Yes! He wasn't that blasted boy's father!

The words Severus Tobias Snape slowly sketched their way onto the piece of parchment, and Severus damn near fell to his knees.

He needed to speak to Albus.

"Harry, what are you doing so early?" Harry blinked. It was a Thursday morning, and he had work.

"I'm here for work, sir." He said, not impolitely, but he was confused.

"It's your birthday, Harry! You should go out! I didn't expect you today." Harry thought for a second. Was it already his birthday? 'I guess I was so wrapped up in Snape telling Dumbledore where I was, I forgot.' He thought to himself. His brooding hadn't been all that fun for everyone.

"That's alright sir, I want to work. It's fun, I swear." Tom laughed.

"Quit pulling my leg, son!" Tom's wrinkly hand ruffled Harry's head, and not thinking anything of it, Harry leaned in. Tom laughed more. "Go, up you get. Back in bed! You can't come down until at least 8. Then you'll go out and do something, you hear?" Harry nodded and with a sigh made his way back upstairs.

Not being able to sleep, Harry lit one of the lamps and began reading. The sun was already coming up, and Harry would switch to natural light soon, but in the early night morning, Harry needed a little more. Picking up the book closest to him, Harry began reading about charms.

Time flew reading his book, and Harry even found himself writing down page numbers to review later. Other books to read, facts he liked, page numbers, and the likes were all in the book and the piece of parchment. Looking at the clock on the wall, Harry noticed it was 7:30. Shower time.

Walking into the giant bathroom, Harry went straight to the tub. He had enjoyed relaxing in the warmth, even falling asleep sometimes. Plus, Tom had recommended some great products that both soothed his sore muscles and made him smell pretty damn good. Sinking into the heat, Harry felt himself relax almost instantaneously. He loved magic.

'I can touch you now…'

Harry gasped, his head flinging out of the water. When had he gone under? He needed to breathe! Harry gasped for air, a mixture of oxygen and water filling his lungs. Gripping the side of the bath, he coughed. What the hell? Nightmares in a bathtub? Damn.

Harry traced the runes on the bathtub as he tried to calm his breathing. Slowly, his gasping breaths turned into soft huffs of air. He stared at the runes on the side of the marble bathtub. He could tell what maybe two of them were, due to studying near Hermione and listening to her talk about them, but the rest, he had no clue. Maybe he could get a book about it while he was out today.

Pulling himself out of the bath, Harry realised how shaky his body really was. Goosebumps littered his skin, and even though he willed himself warmer, it was like his magic wouldn't comply. He wasn't used to that. Making himself feel warm was something he had been able to do since childhood. Guess he was getting dressed then.

Pulling on a soft pair of pants, Harry sat down on his bed and stared at the mirror adjacent to it. Every day, he felt he looked a little different, but on the day of his 15th birthday, he looked- well, like he was never James Potter's son. He really needed to talk to the goblins about getting another potion or whatever that made him look like his dad. His pale skin was kind of starting to freak him out a bit. Plus, his almond-shaped eyes had become hooded, and the green had become brighter, not the hazel they once were. His nose, too, had changed shape over the past few weeks, getting slightly larger and filling his face up more. The rest of him, though, was the same as it had always been. The same lithe, skinny, seeker form, with long fingers, that his aunts' friends had gushed over once upon a time. They swore he would become a piano player one day, being "built like that!"

Harry grabbed one of his pillows and groaned into it, his teeth grinding against each other whenever he inhaled. He changed his mind, magic was so bloody confusing. Why couldn't he just, I don't know, look like his mum? Worst bloody birthday surprise ever.

Going to the front of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry said a speedy goodbye to Tom and walked through the brick wall. He found out in a rather depressing way that he didn't have to tap the bricks to get through. Like Platform 9 ¾, Harry could just walk right through. It was only taped as a show for incoming witches and wizards and their muggle families. It ruined Harry's life.

Feeling the inside pocket of his robe Harry pulled out the piece of paper with everything on it. It had lost its shine, sadly, but Harry figured it was Goblin Magic. Feeling secure in having enough money for his morning, Harry wandered and let the bleakness of the day consume him. Bad choice.

"What's a young boy as you doin' down here in Knockturn Alley?" The voice was right behind him. Harry whirled around, wanding out as if that would do him any good. The man laughed, the sound sending a chill down Harry's back. It was hauntingly beautiful, like a dead bride awaiting her cheating husband.

"Stay back," Harry said, tightening his grip on his wand.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Darlin'." His voice, like his laugh, was smooth. He had a Western accent, as the guys from Dudley show's. "Bless your heart, you're probably still in school. Now I'll ask again, whatsa young boy like you doin' down in this hell hole."

"I got lost, I guess." Harry bit out. "I wasn't paying attention." And he could get out of here if this man would leave him alone.

"Then let me help you out of here. The name's Blake Cooper. I just moved here for work. I work at Darwin's Read 'n Mead, with my momma's brother-in-law. You a reader?" Harry nodded tersely, his body tensing under Cooper's hand that was placed on his shoulder. If this dude kidnapped him... "I thought so, we'll stop there real quick. And no, I'm not gonna kidnap you." Harry froze. Did this man read his mind?

"I'll explain once we get there, you look around the age. Ooh, what's that in your hands?" Before Harry could jerk back Cooper had taken the parchment out of his hands. "Harrison Silas Potter? Damn, cool name. Like the forest people back in Kentucky."

"Is that where you're from?" Harry couldn't help but ask. Here he was, following a stranger, who said he wasn't gonna kidnap him, to a random book store in Knockturn Alley. Hermione would have his head if she found out. 'If she even wanted to still be friends,' Harry thought. 'What friend ignores your calls for a whole summer?'

"Nah, I was born and raised in Texas. Moved here to help my older brother, Jaxon and uncle, Mark. He's getting old, and my mom still has to watch my younger brothers."

"How old are you?" Harry asked. He looked like he was 29, maybe even thirty. His black hair was shaggy, like a mix between Harry's own hair and an 80's mullet. He had tattoos on his neck and a scruff on his chin. He looked like he rode a motorcycle.

"Just turned nineteen a week ago. I know, most people think I look older, with my roguishly handsome looks." He winked at Harry. "I'm the second oldest of my family of five. You got any siblings?"

"No," Harry responded. "Well, I had two people I thought of as brother and sister, but they've been ignoring me all summer."

"Damn shame, that is," Cooper said briskly. "Who would ignore a nice kid like you? You're, what, twelve? Thirteen?"

"I turned fifteen today," Harry grumbled.

"Damn kid, you're skinny as a stick! I'll make sure to fatten you up, I will."

"So you can eat me?" Harry asked dryly. Cooper (who Harry was starting to think of as Blake) barked out a laugh, and Harry's heart ached for his Godfather, Sirius Black. He hadn't answered any of his letters either.

"I don't know what you've heard about us country folk, but I promise we don't eat people. Come on, we're almost there." Harry followed Blake, listening to his idle chatter about some of the shops. A run-down apothecary, a cursed broom shop (which Harry, God help him, was interested in), and finally, they had arrived at the bookshop.

"Honey I'm home!" Blake yelled as he pulled Harry into the shop. It was beautifully decorated, with soft walnut wood shelves holding a multitude of books, and pine desks filled with many creatures. Books floated overhead, and orbs of light decorated areas that weren't lit by the candles above.

"What did I tell ya about stormin' into here and makin' a ruckus!" Harry heard from above. Looking up, he watched an older Blake float down from the second-story area. It was like you copied Blake, paste-ed him, and then shaved his head and scruff. He had tanner skin that almost glowed, and deep blue eyes that seemed to shimmer. Actually, almost all of him seemed to sparkle.

"Oh shut up Jaxon. This is young Harrison, he came to check out the shop!" Jaxon rolled his eyes.

"Oh really? You didn't kidnap him off the side of the road? And the kid prefers Harry ya jerk." Harry took a step back.

"How can you both read my mind? What's going on? Do you work for Voldemort? Oh god, you work for the Dark Lord, what the hell was I thinking?" Harry had his wand out once more and was slowly backing up. He thought he had hit the door, but instead, he hit a solid wall.

"Who the hell is Voldemort?" Blake asked.

"I can promise you Harry I don't work or even talk to Voldemort. And that's the British version of the Miguel guy in Cuba." Harry's brain stopped.

"What?"

"Yeah, Great Britain isn't the only area with a raging psychopathic dark lord. Hell, half the world has one. I mean, Texas just finished a war four years ago! Y'all brits are pretty self-centred." Jaxon responded.

"No, I just always thought, Voldemort was, well. Never mind that Harry pointed his wand again. "Tell me how you can read my mind." Jaxon chuckled. It was rich and deep, not unlike Blakes's laughter, which drew you in and then let you drop.

"Alright, kid, I will. But you're making a scene in my shop. Let's go drink some tea and talk about it. Blake, go get the book." Harry followed the older man but didn't put his wand away. They couldn't be trusted. Harry was, quite frankly, an idiot. Without Ron and Hermione to remind him about the constant threat that is Voldemort, he had honestly forgotten.

"Here you go, kid." Blake passed him a tall glass filled with amber liquid. "Good ol' Texas sweet tea. We have Ma send it every week." Harry sniffed it, but he wasn't looking for poisons. Instead, he watched Jaxon's body language to see if he would tense or let something show on his face. Instead, all he got was an eye roll. Taking a sip, Harry noted the delicious drink had a lemony edge to it.

"Delicious," Harry said before chugging it down. Why didn't British people have this everywhere? This sweet, sweet beverage. Blake slammed a book on the table. It was pretty dusty, but Blake waved his wand and it cleaned up.

"Now, Harry, you said you were fifteen, right? Now, are you a firstborn?" Jaxon put his hand in front of Blake's face.

"First off, let me explain some terminology to you real quick. No-Maj is a muggle, first-born is a muggle-born, and, well, that's it actually. We 'mericans don't get the blood purity shit as y'all do. At least not in Texas. Continue, Blake."

"Well, he kind of answered my question. If you were pureblooded you'd know all about this. Now, the reason my brother can read your mind is that he's half a vampire. I'm serious." Harry snorted. "Weird, well, anyways, the reason I can read your mind is because of my magical inheritance. I assume you know about the branches of magic, right?" At Harry's shocked look, Blake sighed. "Damn British education. Alright, I'll explain. There are six main parts of magic. Abjuration, Alteration, Conjuration, Divination, Enchantment, and Necromancy. Now, every wixen in the world has a specific attunement to one of these parts of magic. Now, the book says that Abjuration 'Abjuration is the branch of magic which frequently involves giving up citizenship or another right or privilege, is the solemn repudiation, abandonment, or renunciation by or upon oath.' That's a load of donkey balls right there. See, there are three branches of Abjuration, right, and all three are mind magic. Invocation, Mentalism, and Oneiromancy, all are about super freaky mind magic shit. And, as you can tell, it's what I have an affinity for. I can read anyone's mind almost undetected." Blake paused and took a sip of tea.

"Now, damn I've said now a lot, well anyways, back to affinity shit. You learn what you are on your fifteenth birthday. That's your magical inheritance. That's the age that your magical core, or soul, stops growing. If you, I don't know, committed an AK and split your soul, it would have grown back once you hit fifteen. Would have been awfully painful, but it would have. Anyways, back on track. Abjuration, Conjuration, and Necromancy are the easiest to tell if you have an inheritance for it. Obviously, you don't. The minute I turned fifteen, I was reading people's minds left and right. You haven't done that, nor have you summoned objects or the dead. Plus, Necromancy is like, illegal. So, yeah.

It says here that 'Alteration is the branch of magic that includes spells that are defensive in nature, incantations and wards that block or dispel others. It is customary for anyone trying to protect themselves to apply such magicks, without the need for cumbersome clothing which can impair spell casting'. That's like your dark/light arts, defence against said dark arts, I think duelling, yep it says duelling here, and Apotropaic magic. That's what my momma's got an affinity for. She is warding off the devil at home. Now, Conjuration is just Charms and Transfiguration. There are some other things too, but you can read about those later.

The next one is Divination, and by the look on your face, I can skip that one. Alright, cool. Next on the list is Enchantment.."

Harry listened, second after second, minute after minute. He soaked up every ounce of knowledge that Blake and Jaxon threw his way. He wasn't one for learning, and never liked competing against Hermione (or Dudley for that matter. Been there and done that!) But he was learning, and actually having fun with it. Jaxon had given him a stuffed squirrel to squeeze instead of bouncing his leg, and Harry found he focused much better after that. His brain jotted things to look for later, books to buy, even people to read about. Harry was all things considered, prepared for the school year. This has been the best birthday Harry had had in a while.

"You're telling me, you spent your fifteenth birthday with the likes of us?" Jaxon asked, eyebrows up into his hairline. "Jeez, kid. Well happy birthday! Want a free book or something?" Harry laughed and shook his head no.

"Will you tell me about your family?" Harry asked. Jaxon nodded and smiled heartily.

"Well, I'm the oldest at thirty-two. I was turned into a vampire at twenty-eight by my deceased wife who died shortly after turning me. We weren't able to complete the turning so that's why I'm only half a vampire."

"How do you complete it besides biting?" Harry asked

"Sex!" Blake crudely yelled from the other side of the kitchen.

"He ain't wrong. She died after biting me. Apparently, vampires cannot turn someone with an alteration affinity. Anyways, I was stuck as a half-vampire for the rest of my life. Had to have her clan save my life. Blake's the second oldest, as you know, with an affinity for legilimency. We both went to a small-town magic school in Texas called Susan Anne's. He's dating some no-maj in Kentucky. They're pretty hush-hush about it, but our family knows. The middle child of the family, Cole, is a firecracker. No, he literally has an affinity for fire magic, and he just loves putting sparklers around the house. Momma hates it, but he's always been her favourite. Most like our dad, momma always says. Well, he's sixteen and about to be seventeen in November. Jay is number four, and he turned ten about a month ago. His and Blake's birthdays are super close. Jay's a sweetheart and can make you smile just by being around him. A future painter in the making too, I reckon. He's damn good at whatever he does but that kid loves to paint. Now the youngest is Zane, and he's silent. Hasn't made a peep since the day he was born. Even when he broke his leg a few years ago, he didn't even cry. No one knows why. Momma says the devil got a hold of him in another life, but I think the twerps were just watchin' and a-waitin'. Damn good kid tho. He's seven. Nuff said 'bout me, talk 'bout yourself Birdy." Harry shrugged and looked down.

"Well, my parents died when I was a baby, So I live with my muggle aunt and uncle. My mom was a muggle-born, so it makes sense. I've got a cousin named Dudley, right git he is." Jaxon nodded solemnly.

"You don't deserve that, kid, I promise. Quit thinking what you're thinking. Now I know we don't know each other ver' well, but stop by whenever you need it, alright?" Harry nodded.

They talked a little more before their uncle-in-law, who told Harry to call him Grandpa Travis, forced them out. It was work or leave, so Harry said his goodbyes and headed out back to Diagon Alley. It was later than he thought, almost two p.m. Plus, Harry still had more books to buy thanks to Blake and Jaxon.

One day there turned into two, which turned into a week. Harry enjoyed his time with the Cooper brothers. Even after being attacked by dementors one August afternoon, Harry was still elated to be there. Since Harry was doing nothing but cleaning and cooking, Tom had also decided to give Harry an extra day off now. Tom knew Harry could very well pay for his room now, but Harry enjoyed the work. Plus, Blake would sometimes come and visit him.

Soon, his happiness would come to an end.

"Harry my boy, so wonderful to see you!" Harry froze, the tomato in his hand falling to the cutting board.

"Hi, Professor," Harry said, toying with his knife anxiously. 'Just keep dicing,' Harry thought to himself. 'Just like at the Dursleys.'

"You know, Harry, we've been looking for you for a while." Harry kept slicing. "Why did you run away, Harry? You know about the protection for you and your family. They could be getting hunted down by Voldemort." Green green dead Cedric green Cedric CEDRIC.

"I didn't run away, professor. Aunt Petunia kicked me out."

"Now Harry, why would she do that? She knows about the protection, knows what it entails." Harry dropped the knife, tomato juice splattering onto the counter.

"Maybe she didn't like my new look, professor." Harry turned around and watched as Dumbledore's grandfatherly smile disappeared.