In a small, crowded room in a house on Privet Drive, an annual ritual was being performed. As it had been the last two years, a cage stood upon the wardrobe, its perch empty, dried feathers stuck to the bottom, and the window wide open, a warm summer breeze letting the curtains hanging within it sway back and forth gently.

On the bed opposite of the window, a young man, 16 years of age, sat with legs folded beneath him on top of the thin, holey blanket. In his hand, the boy held a worn down old watch and was waiting patiently for the minutes to tick by until midnight. The date was the 30th of July, the boy was known as Harry Potter and he waited eagerly for his birthday to arrive. Something in his stomach told him that this birthday would change everything.

It was half a minute till midnight as an owl swept through the window. It wasn't any owl he had ever seen before. The clock in the downstairs hall began to ring, and, curious, he untied the letter from its foot and opened the seal. The last bell tolled midnight, and suddenly the whole world went dark.

The watch read midnight, the hour for which he had been waiting. Looking up, he blinked, realizing that he no longer sat on the same bed in the Dursley's house, but on the cold stone floor of what he guessed to be Hogwarts.

"Finally! Now, let me look at my son." The deep, silky voice came from beside him, and Harry knew who it was immediately.

"Professor Snape! What are you doing here?" The man looked shocked. He did look like Harry's professor, but this man looked as though he were able to smile and was much different from the Snape he knew. "What is going on?" Harry demanded.

"You are not my son. You can't be my son!" Snape said stupidly, which puzzled Harry to no end.

"Of course, I am not your son! What is this, some kind of sick joke? Where is Professor Dumbledore? I want to know why I am suddenly here and not at the Dursleys!" Harry stood up and went toward the door. Before he got there, though, the door opened of its own accord, and Dumbledore stepped inside the room.

"Professor," Harry said respectfully. "Why and how was I brought to Hogwarts? I was in my room, then I received this letter, and I am suddenly here." Harry held up the letter the owl had delivered just moments ago, which was still clutched in his fist.

Dumbledore looked just as shocked as Snape had been. "Who are you?" He asked in surprise.

"What kind of game is this? You know who I am!" Their faces remained blank. "You know, Harry Potter. "'The-Boy-Who-Lived,' 'Defeater of Voldemort,' 'Quidditch Seeker Extraordinaire.'" Harry said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Mr. Potter, I am going to bring a potion which I wish you to drink:" Snape said. "It will clear up the question which you ask." Harry crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

"I give up! There is no getting information out of either of you. Make your potion, just don't tell me what you put into it, I want to die in peace." At this, Snape's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise, and a slight smile danced at the corners of his lips.

"Don't worry." He retorted. "You won't feel a thing."

Harry stared at the two men silently, just as he had been doing ever since the potion had been mentioned, as Snape set a smoking goblet down on the table at which he sat.

"Here, Mr. Potter, if you would do me the favor of drinking this?"

"Please tell Ron I bequeath all of my possessions to him. Except for my books, they are for Hermione; Ron wouldn't know what to do with a book if it sang and tap-danced." Both men chuckled, and Harry gulped down the steaming potion.

A tingling sensation slithered down his spine, spreading to run down his arms and legs, even his head and torso. "What's this potion for?" Harry asked.

"It is to return you to your original state, which it is now in the process of doing," Dumbledore answered.

"What do you mean, my original state?"

"It seems, Harry, that you are indeed not a Potter," Snape answered with a smile. Many emotions, thoughts, and doubts ran through Harry with this statement and the foremost was: Why was Snape smiling?

"If I am not a Potter, then who am I?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"A Snape," Dumbledore answered with a twinkle in his eye.