Prologue

Sixteen-year old Severus Snape sat sullenly on the swing at the local park, the very same park he'd first seen Lily Evans show her magic and float to the ground, her sister Petunia yelling at her not to do it.

He sat there, in his long dark robes, digging his feet into the earth, swinging slightly, his pale face expressionless, curtained by lank black hair as he frowned down at the ground. He was on vacation from Hogwarts and he hated that. He hated coming home to his drunken, abusive father and doormat mother. He spent as much time away from Spinners End and away from people as he could.

The other teenagers, who were Muggles, gave him a wide berth. He was creepy, strange and when he looked at them with his cold, black eyes . . . fear would creep over them. A few of the braver boys verbally challenged him, but never tried to touch him.

"Bet he has a knife under those robes," they'd say to each other, sure Severus wouldn't hesitate to stab one of them. He always had his hand in his pocket. But it wasn't the handle of a knife he was holding, but his wand. He would have hexed them, the idiots, then Obliviated them. He was good with his wand work.

He sat brooding. He was alone, without friends . . . without Lily. She no longer talked to him. Still, he came here almost every day. It was a place where he was once happiest. The place he and Lily would sit and talk.

"Still pining over her," a sharp, somewhat bitter voice said behind him.

Snape didn't say anything. He didn't even look up, although he was conscious of someone walking over and sitting in the swing next to him.

"You should have known she wouldn't go for you. Not my perfect sister," Petunia Evans spat as she began to swing, digging her bony feet into the earth to push off, her horse-like face turned toward the silent wizard next to her.

She began swinging slowly, just a bit . . . just enough to be in motion.

"Serves you right. Now you know how it feels to be on the outside looking in," Petunia said to him. "You always treated me like I was some kind of leper. Now you know it. Lily's done it to you. Left you out in the cold. Doesn't matter that you have magic now, does it, Severus?"

"Shut up, Petunia," Snape hissed, feeling even more miserable if possible.

Petunia fell silent for a moment, then asked, "Do you hate her, Severus? I do. I hate her so much I can't even see straight. I know she's the reason . . . she's the reason for what happened. Everyone says it was a freak accident. That there was gas buildup and . . . and my parents were killed in the blast . . . but I know it was because of Lily, and . . . and your crowd. I can't say it of course. Everyone would think I was mad, but that wizard that she made angry . . . I know he did it."

Snape didn't say anything. He'd heard that too, from his housemates in hushed tones, but he didn't spread rumors and it wouldn't help anything to let Petunia know he knew. Her parents had been killed in a blast. The only reason Petunia wasn't there was because she was out with her beau, the stocky, mundane, non-magical Vernon Dursley. Suddenly, she was alone in the world. When Lily came home for the funeral, Petunia treated her like a stranger for the most part, before the ugly blow-up where she blamed Lily for the deaths, and Lily ran away, saying she didn't want anything, that Petunia could have the insurance money, what was left of the house . . . everything.

And Petunia took it, telling Lily she never wanted to see her freakish face again. That she was no longer her sister.

Snape blamed Lily too. If only she had kept her friendship with him, he would have kept her out of Voldemort's sights. He could have protected her because she would have been his, and the Dark Lord would have overlooked her parentage. Or so Snape believed. But no, she had to choose James Potter, who stuck his nose in where it didn't belong and interfered with the Dark Lord's plans and made himself and anyone connected with him, a target.

Idiot.

So, Lily's parents were killed, and she was still with the wizard responsible. Why was she so stupid?

"I hate all of you," Petunia hissed at him.

Snape turned his head to look at her, his black eyes narrowed.

"Then, why do you come here day after day, Petunia? If you hate me and my kind so much, why do you bother?" he asked her.

Petunia made a face as she looked at him.

"You're so strange . . . so . . . weird. Look at you. You don't even try to hide what you are, how freakish you are . . ."

Snape felt hot anger boiling up in his belly.

"Why do you come here then, to sit with me and just . . . just talk about how much you despise me . . . Lily . . . everyone? Why aren't you with your fat boyfriend?" he asked her.

"Vernon is not fat! He's stocky. He looks like a proper man should look, not skinny and pale and ugly like you are! And he's got a good future," she snapped.

Snape looked over her bony frame, thinking when they shagged she must get on top, because Vernon's bulk would surely crush her. Then, he gave her a small, rather nasty smirk. He slowly stood up.

"I think you come here because you fancy me, Petunia," he said softly.

Petunia looked horrified, at first.

"What? I do not! How could I? You're . . . you're a freak!" she cried, although her eyes shifted just the way Lily's did when she lied. She stopped swinging, her hands clutching the chains of the swing so tightly, her knuckles whitened.

"I think it's the magic . . . the magic that you pretend to hate. You wrote Dumbledore to try and get into Hogwarts, didn't you? I know about that. Since you don't have magic, you want to get close to it, so you come to me, picking at me, hoping to goad me into doing something to you," Snape purred at her. "What do you want me to do to you, Petunia?"

Petunia was two years older than Severus, and just as tall as he was. She was taller than Vernon actually. She stood up as he walked up to her and they stood face to face.

"Do you want to shag me?" Snape asked her, his eyes hard. He didn't like Petunia, and never had. He simply tolerated her because she was Lily's sister. But he was so angry, so alone, so bitter, and she was such a bitch . . . he'd fuck her just to do it. It would be like getting back at Lily in a way, although she'd never know he did it.

"No! How dare you ask me something like that!" Petunia spluttered, turning red but not moving away. Snape stepped closer, invading her personal space, his eyes meeting hers.

"I think you do," he said, then grabbed her, and kissed her.

Petunia pretended to struggle, then relaxed and kissed him back. Suddenly, Snape pushed her away, changing his mind. Petunia was disgusting and false. False, like her sister.

"Give it to Vernon," he hissed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Petunia's eyes widened in shock, and she reddened, anger and hurt pouring off of her as she looked at him with his lank hair and big nose.

"I see why she dumped you, you bastard," Petunia said, her mouth still tingling from the taste of him. "I should report you . . . you tried to force yourself on me."

"Who's going to believe that?" Snape said, turning away from her. "You're trash, Petunia."

He started walking away from her. Furious, Petunia picked up a handful of the tiny pebbles scattered around the swing to keep the grass from encroaching and flung them at his back. Snape stopped as they rained around him, hitting him and stinging slightly.

Snape turned to look at her.

"Don't come here tomorrow," he said, his voice dangerous. "Don't come here at all if you see me here. If you do, no one will ever see you again. I want nothing to do with you or your sister. You've been warned, Petunia."

Then he walked into a copse of trees and there was the sound of thunder. He'd Apparated, even though it was illegal for him to do at his age. He had to get out of there before he did something he'd have to pay for. No doubt he'd get a letter about it, but he wouldn't be expelled. He had connections, if nothing else.

Petunia stood there for a moment, then turned, walking away from the swings and Severus bloody Snape. She didn't know why she kissed him back, or why she came there every day to sit and talk, or vent. Maybe he was using magic on her. Yes, he probably was. There was no other explanation for why she'd even want to be around him.

It wasn't because he was a wizard, or that he had been Lily's friend and hurt by her. It wasn't because he was odd and dangerous. No, he was doing something to her. Well, it would stop now. She wouldn't come back.

Petunia finally wiped at her mouth as she exited the park. Vernon could never find out about this. He'd leave her for sure. He knew about witches and wizards because she confided in them and told him her suspicion of her parents being killed by Lily's kind. Vernon promised he'd protect her from them, all of them . . . including her sister. If he found out she'd actually kissed one of . . . of them, it would be over.

Petunia walked purposely back toward the house. It had been repaired and was up on the market. She and Vernon were to be married soon. He had started a business and it was doing all right. Vernon was enterprising, even though he was only twenty. He had a future and she'd have a normal life, free from magic and witches and all things that concerned them.

She'd be normal if it killed her. And as for the wizards like Severus, and the witches like Lily . . . they were all freaks, every single one of them and should be wiped off the face of the planet.

If there were any justice in the world, they would be.

5 Years Later

"The time has come, young Severus," Voldemort hissed at his young Potions master as he drew up his hood. "I've located the Potters and go to deal with them, now."

Snape stared at him, his heart pounding, unable to move.

Lily.

From within the hood, two crimson eyes considered him.

"I only want the child, Severus. I will not harm any of them. He will become a powerful wizard under my tutelage, and loyal to me. Accompany me, and you can have your revenge upon his father and claim his mother as you've always desired. She can be Obliviated so she forgets about her husband and child, and you can take her away . . . live . . . happily ever after, boy. Don't you want that? By rights, she should have been yours."

Snape took this in. Albus had promised to protect Lily and her family, but the old wizard had failed. Voldemort knew where they were. But how? How did he know? Still, if he went with him, he could make sure Lily was safe. James, he had it coming to him, but Lily . . . his Lily . . .

Snape drew up his hood as well.

"I'll come," he said shortly.

"Take hold of my robes," the Dark Lord ordered.

Snape did so, and they Disapparated from the stronghold.

Snape stood back and watched as Voldemort blasted the door of the Potter's residence off its hinges, and heard James shouting for Lily to take their son and run. He was frozen for a moment as he saw the Dark Lord cross the threshold and utter the Killing curse.

Snape stood there, petrified by the silence that followed, then saw Voldemort's robed figure disappear.

The young wizard ran into the house and stopped cold as he saw James Potter sprawled on the floor in the foyer, his wand next to him and glasses askew. He was dead, staring up at the ceiling sightlessly.

Snape stared down at him, not feeling the gratification he thought he would. He had dreamed of him dead, but it had always seemed that he would live forever.

Suddenly, he heard Lily scream, "No, not my baby!" and bolted up the stairs, just in time to see green light flash from a bedroom on the left.

"Nooo!" he cried, rushing in to find Lily dead on the floor, her baby sitting next to her, crying as he looked up at Voldemort, who pointed his wand at him.

Snape stared at Lily's body, feeling as if the entire world was falling down around him, then his black eyes shifted toward Voldemort wildly. He'd killed her!

"No!" Snape cried, lunging at the Dark Lord's back as he hissed the curse, the tip of his wand pointed right at the child's forehead. Snape felt only the slightest contact before he was blasted back by a powerful force that blew away a portion of wall. Stunned, he lay in the rubble. He could hear Lily's baby crying. Smoke and fire were rising all around them and Voldemort was gone.

Staggering to his feet, Snape stumbled over to Lily's corpse, his eyes wet with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Lily," he said softly, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I believed him, believed his lies when he intended to kill you from the very beginning."

Little Harry Potter crawled over to his mother and pulled on her pitifully, looking up at Snape. A nasty, jagged cut was on his forehead The Slytherin looked down at him. He couldn't leave him here. He'd die.

Snape was bleeding terribly from a gash in his leg and losing a lot of blood. He scooped the crying child up and carried him through the now blazing house and outside to safety, hidden in the smoke. People gathered, screaming and calling for assistance. No one saw the young wizard and the child he held.

Snape put Harry down on the ground and pinched the baby so he'd scream. Harry howled as Snape ran around the side of the house and Disapparated.

"That's Lily's baby!" Hagrid bellowed, rushing toward the sound. He had been in the area, calling on an old friend, who secretly bred Acromantulas. He was looking for a female for his friend and former pet, Aragog. He knew Lily and James lived in Godric's Hollow, he just couldn't remember where.

But his memory of their home came back to him when he saw it in flames. The half-giant ran toward the sound of the crying baby and he scooped him up from the ground, running back to safety beyond the flames as the house collapsed behind him. .

"Oh, yeh poor tyke," the half-giant said softly to the crying child in his burly arms. "Looks like yer an orphan now. No one coulda' survived tha' I'd better take yeh to Dumbledore. He'll know wha' ter do wit' yeh."

Huge tears fell from Hagrid's eyes as he did just that.

No one saw the other person escaping the ruins of the Potter house. They wouldn't notice him. He was in his animagus form, small, grey, Voldemort's wand clamped between his teeth as he avoided all the running feet and Aurors.

Peter Pettigrew made his way into the darkness, scampering away from the scene, fear in his ratty little heart. Voldemort had instructed him to follow, but keep hidden. He was to strike Snape down once the Potters were killed. Voldemort believed the young wizard had betrayed him. He didn't have any proof, but felt it in his gut. He only asked Severus to accompany him to witness the death of the woman he loved as a punishment before he, too, was hexed from the face of the earth.

But Peter had been too slow and was caught in the blast like Snape was, and recovered slower. He saw him run by with the child, and entered the bedroom to find no sign of the Dark Lord other than his wand, which he took. Then he changed form and made his way out of the house and into the darkness.

He had to find someplace to hide. He had betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort to save his own life. He had been their secret keeper, and two people knew that . . . Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black. He was sure Sirius would confront him, and the wizard could always tell when he was lying. Hopefully, he could leave the wizarding world before Black found him.

If he did, Peter knew he'd never make it to trial.

Severus Snape fled to Spinners End, tended to his wounds and sequestered himself in his home, mourning the loss of Lily and Voldemort's treachery. He'd killed her.

Killed her.

That wasn't the way it was supposed to go. James . . . yes, he was supposed to die, but Lily . . . Lily was supposed to be his. They were supposed to run away together, and Voldemort raise her son as his own.

Snape should have known the Dark Lord wouldn't allow a potential rival to live, particularly one with the power to destroy him. Nor would he allow a witch to live who had the potential to produce other such powerful children. Yes, Voldemort had intended to wipe out the entire family from the very beginning.

Snape stared at the floor sightlessly. What was he to do now? He couldn't let anyone know he'd been at Godric's Hollow and witnessed the murders. He'd been seen as an accomplice although he'd done nothing. He'd have to act as if he hadn't known of Voldemort's plan. He'd have to pretend to be unaware of the Potters deaths.

Well, it wouldn't be hard to show grief. He could only feel two emotions right now . . . grief and despair.

He had no idea what happened to Voldemort. Maybe he was destroyed when he tried to kill the child. Maybe he had self-fulfilled the prophecy and attacking the boy had destroyed him. Oh, if only he'd gone for the baby first . . . Lily might still be alive.

Snape clasped himself tightly with his arms and rocked back and forth, misery, guilt and bitterness wrapping around him like a new skin, sinking into his very soul, darkening it and destroying whatever slim hopes he had for happiness.

Petunia Dursley had just finished giving her fifteen-month-old nephew, Harry Potter, a bottle of watered down milk and a carrot, and left him in his small toddler bed in the cupboard under the stairs, turning out the light. He cried a little in the darkness, but stopped after five minutes or so. No one would come pick him up or comfort him, and the toddler knew it. All that would happen was Petunia would return and spank him. Sleep was the only thing for it.

Petunia walked up the stairs into her son Dudley's bright, airy nursery. The fat, blonde toddler was awake in his crib, screaming for a bottle and goodies.

"Oh, my little Dudikins! Don't cry. Mum's here," Petunia gushed, lifting him out of the crib and rocking him as he shrieked, beating her about the neck and shoulders with his fists in aggravation. She had just fed him a full bottle and cookies less than two hours ago, but the greedy child wanted more, and what Dudley wanted he got. And not the thinned, cheap milk and bits of food Harry received for nourishment, but the richest and most delicious of everything.

As Petunia fed her son, she walked about, humming to him and telling him what a beautiful baby he was as he masticated on his cookies and suckled on his bottle. It was a wonder she could carry him. Suddenly, Petunia tripped over her own feet, Dudley flying out of her arms.

"My baby!" she screamed, trying to catch him before he hit the floor, but failing to do so.

She watched horrified as he hit the hard, wooden surface . . . then bounced, hitting the left wall, then the right, then the ceiling, just as if he was made out of rubber, Dudley screaming at the top of his lungs. Finally she managed to catch him, her eyes wide as she stared at him.

Petunia knew this wasn't normal. She also knew what it meant. Her parents used to tell the story of how the same thing happened with her sister Lily when she was a baby. How she was dropped and bounced about, unhurt. It was proof she was a witch.

Petunia stared at her son. Vernon would never accept this. He'd blame her for poisoning his son's bloodline because her sister was a witch. He'd probably want to divorce her.

He couldn't find out. He just couldn't.

She and Vernon had been looking about for an orphanage to put Harry in. They didn't want to raise a wizard. It was too much trouble. Now, she discovered her son was one as well. She might be able to hide it for a while. Harry, when he was upset, made things happen, like rising above his bed when no one would pick him up. Petunia would push him back down and call him a bad baby, threatening to take him outside and let him float away. Not that Harry understood, completely, but she browbeat him anyway.

She looked at Dudley. The best thing to do would be to give him what he wanted, attention, toys, food, whatever so his magic wouldn't manifest. But, damn . . . when he came of age, he'd receive one of those damnable Hogwarts letters. Vernon would find out Dudley was a wizard if that happened. He would have to live among those people . . . those freaks.

No. It couldn't happen. She wouldn't see her son turn into a freak. She couldn't have any more children, so all her hopes and dreams were tied into her son, that he'd become a man like his father, enterprising and normal.

She had to contact Dumbledore somehow, and not let Vernon know.

"Yes, he definitely is a wizard," Dumbledore told Petunia as she sat stiffly in his office. In her desperation, and because it worked last time, she wrote him a letter, simply addressed to:

The Headmaster
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

There was no address or region, but, there were wizards and witches who worked at the Muggle post office and the letter made it to him. He arrived while Vernon was at work and took her back to Hogwarts. She left Harry with Mrs. Figg, who lived down the street. She always did this, not taking the toddler anyplace.

"I don't want him to go to Hogwarts. I don't want him in the wizarding world at all," Petunia said to Albus, who adjusted his glasses.

"But he is a wizard, Mrs. Dursley. He has to be trained up," the Headmaster said.

"No! I won't have him join your kind. He's my son and my wishes should be respected," she shot back at him.

"He does not have to attend Hogwarts, but the invitation must be extended," Albus replied.

"No! No, I don't want that letter to come. My husband wouldn't understand. It would destroy our family!" she said to him desperately. "I'd do anything to keep that from happening!"

Albus looked at her thoughtfully.

"I've heard through the grapevine you've been checking about for orphanages," he said rather darkly. "You mean to place your nephew there."

Petunia nodded.

"He's not our responsibility," she said tightly, "and a lot of trouble with all that bobbing about and things happening around him. It's just too much trouble. Vernon wants him out."

Albus' blue eyes darkened.

"And what about your son? Will he want him out too?" he asked.

Petunia's eyes filled with tears.

"I don't know, but he despises your kind. I think our lives would change for the worst. He might divorce me and disown Dudley," she replied, her voice quavering.

Albus silently wondered what kind of man Vernon Dursley was if his wife was so afraid. He looked down at Dudley, who, as usual was sucking down a bottle on his mother's lap, looking like a swollen, chubby faced doll.

"Your nephew is very important and needs to remain in your house, Mrs. Dursley. You cannot turn him out. If you want me to help you, you must promise to help me. You must promise Harry can live in your household until he is old enough to strike out on his own," the Headmaster said. "If you do this, your son will not be acknowledged as a wizard in any way, although it will be up to you to suppress his magic. But, I need your promise."

Petunia looked pained. Vernon wanted Harry out, but if she did as he wanted, then Dudley would be exposed. She didn't want that. She wanted a normal life, and a normal family. Harry would put a damper on that . . . but he could be ignored most of the time. Besides, once he reached eleven, he'd be gone more than he was there, living at Hogwarts except for the summers. She'd have to talk Vernon into letting him stay. She'd use "family obligation" as a reason.

"Very well," Petunia said grudgingly. "If that's the only way I can keep Dudley out of this . . . this situation, then I suppose I must promise. Harry can stay with us until he reaches adulthood."

"Good," Dumbledore said, "and in the dark times ahead, you must remember your promise, Petunia and what we agreed to. If you break it, your son could still be exposed. Keep that in mind."

"I will," Petunia said, scowling at how manipulative the old wizard was, despite his apparently benevolent demeanor.

Dumbledore escorted her back home and left her alone with Dudley. She sat down on the sofa, holding her son, who began screaming for another bottle.

"Don't worry, little Duddikins. Mummy will protect you. I'll always protect you," she breathed, drawing the kicking, screaming baby into her chest. She'd retrieve Harry later.

"No one will ever know," she swore. "Ever."

Present Day

Several months had passed, and Vernon and Petunia had quite a time with Dudley, who was still upset that his cousin, Harry Potter, hadn't come with them when he was in danger. His parents couldn't understand what had gotten into the young man.

"But where did they take him?" he asked his red-faced father.

Vernon blew his large mustache like a walrus and said, "That's no matter of ours, Dudley. He's with . . . with them, and away from us with his magic and murdering associates."

Dudley scowled.

"Dad, he was in danger. It was clear to see that. Why couldn't he come with us where he'd be safe?"

It was true Dudley had given Harry a hard time when he lived with him, but that was like a rite of passage. It had been fun to pick at him, and Dudley had the feeling Harry was past caring about it really. And considering he had magic, and had never really done anything awful to him or his parents, made Dudley think that underneath it all, Harry was a good sort. Besides, he was the only cousin he had. It didn't feel right to leave him behind.

"He's not our kind, boy," Vernon huffed.

"He's my cousin! We share the same blood!" Dudley argued as Petunia's eyes rounded.

"He's not like you," she hissed at her son desperately, her eyes wide. "He's a freak!"

Dudley frowned at his mother and father. They were staying in a rented flat in London, and were sitting in front of the telly watching the news.

"He's just a wizard," Dudley said sullenly. "He's a little freaky, yeah, but he's still a person."

Vernon and Petunia looked at their son in amazement.

"Oh, where did we go wrong, Vernon?" Petunia wailed, burying her horsey face into her husband's thick shoulder and sobbing hysterically.

Vernon patted her back as he glowered at Dudley.

"Now you've gone and upset your mum," he growled at him. "Wizards are not . . . people. They are . . . abominations. Strange . . . otherworldly. Abominations to be avoided by normal folks like us, Dudley. I thought you knew that."

Dudley considered his father.

"Dad, why do you and mum hate Harry so much?" he asked him directly.

Vernon reddened even more. There was disapproval in his son's voice. He had always believed Dudley shared their view about the wizarding world. They had brought him up to be just as bigoted as they were. What had gone wrong? It should be clear why they despised the boy. He was a wizard. And wizards were to be reviled by decent folk.

"He was an imposition from the first. His parents went and got themselves killed and saddled us with him, draining our resources. Having him in the home took food out of your mouth, Dudley. And that was only the beginning," Vernon huffed.

Dudley blinked at his dad. The boy had evened out now, his fat becoming muscle and Petunia's genes kicking in. He was powerfully built, solid with no paunch. He lifted weights and had the biceps, pecs and abs to prove it. But even he knew Harry never took a crumb out of his mouth. In fact, Harry was lucky to get a decent meal growing up.

"Then there was all that Weasley business, your tongue growing five feet long, and Dementors, whatever they were. Those nearly killed you . . . and now this Lord Voldemort coming after all of us. And that's only a little that we had to suffer through because of him. Remember how he ruined my business meeting when an owl flew in the window? I lost a big account because of that. The biggest I had. And poor Marge floating away. And that . . . that pig's tail. Of course we despise the boy, Dudley. Because of him, our life was disrupted. We would have been much better off without him."

Dudley thought life would have been rather dull without Harry around. You could always count on something exciting happening, even though it usually scared Dudley near to death when it did. Still, in retrospect, it had been rather fun. Now, Harry was gone, really gone, and it was just him and his rather dull parents.

Petunia had stopped crying by now, and was looking at Dudley with hurt in her eyes. How could he question them like this? Everything they'd done was to protect their family. They didn't want Harry thinking he had them for support, or could come running to them. They wanted the blasted boy to run the other way and leave them alone. Finally, he was gone. Petunia had kept her promise to Albus Dumbledore, and in return, he'd kept her secret.

"Duddikins, it's good he's out of our lives. He never really belonged. None of his kind do," Petunia said to her son, a note of pleading in her voice. Dudley couldn't afford to have even an ounce of sympathy for those people. It might . . . it might . . .

"He's my cousin, and I want to know what's happening to him . . . or . . . or help him," Dudley stated flatly. "He's my family. Everyone else I know has relatives that they hang about with and do things with. Harry and I never got a chance to do that when we were kids, but I see things different now. It doesn't matter that he's a wizard, mum. He's family and family is supposed to stick together when there's trouble. Harry's in trouble."

Dudley stood up.

"I'm going to try and find him," he announced, "just to see if he's all right."

Vernon huffed, puffed and rose from the sofa to intercept him.

"You'll do no such thing, boy. If he's dead, the world's better for it," he blustered as Petunia nodded in agreement. "Besides, if he's not all right, there's nothing you could do about it. They'll cut you to pieces with those wands of theirs."

"I'm going to look for him," Dudley said again, stubbornly. Then he walked into his room, grabbed a bag and began stuffing clothes into it. He pulled open a drawer and took out his wallet. It was full of pound notes. He stuffed that into the back pocket of his jeans.

Vernon and Petunia stood in the doorway, watching him, his mother begging him to stop packing.

"Dudley, you'll get yourself killed!" she sobbed. "Vernon, stop him!"

Vernon looked at his wife, then barreled into the room and grabbed Dudley's bag by one of the straps. Dudley looked at his father with narrowed eyes.

"Dad, don't do this," he said to his father. "I've never lifted a hand to you once, even when you used to hit me. But I've got to do this, and I'm not going to let you stop me. I've never been there for Harry . . . he didn't have anybody . . . but I thought he was okay because he was in his own world. But now, he's in it, and he's in trouble. Yes, he's got people to help him, maybe, but he needs his family, and even if you don't want to admit it, we're his family and it's time one of us starts acting like it. Now, let go of my bag, dad, and let me pass."

Father and son stood looking at each other, determination in Dudley's blue eyes. Petunia stood in the doorway, biting her hand as they faced off.

"You'd . . . you'd hit your own father to go after him?" Vernon hissed, his eyes narrowing. "After all I've done for you, given you? Why, you ungrateful pup! Turncoat! Wizardlover! Go on then. Go on and get yourself killed. You're not the son I raised. I don't know who you are. Get out! GET OUT!"

Vernon angrily released the bag and watched as Dudley hoisted it over his shoulder and walked to the bedroom door, meeting his mother's streaming eyes.

"Please, Dudley . . . don't do this. You have no idea where to go, how to find him," she said to her son, who kissed her cheek.

"I can always tell wizards and witches, mum. They don't dress right. All I have to do is walk around and look for people who don't dress right, and ask some questions. Harry's famous, remember? Someone will know what's going on and where he is. Maybe he's fine, and I'll come back . . ."

"You won't be coming back here!" Vernon snarled at him as Petunia sobbed.

"Well, I'll see you sometime," Dudley altered. Then he walked past his mum and out the door.

Petunia looked after him, then fainted, Vernon rushing to her side.

Dudley wandered around London for a while, stopping to get some fish and chips. He kept his eyes peeled as he turned down Charing Cross Road, in the very heart of London. There were quite a few people walking, and he saw a wizard in what looked like pajama bottoms, a red smoking jacket and a top hat.

"Bingo," he thought, walking after the wizard quickly. He found it strange that no one else seemed to notice how odd the man looked as he moved through the people. Still, he followed him, trying to catch up.

Dudley watched as the wizard turned into a small, grubby-looking pub sandwiched between a book store and a record shop. He looked up at the sign.

The Leaky Cauldron.

Hm. That sounded like a place wizards and witches would congregate. Who else cared about cauldrons? Dudley entered and found himself in a dark, shabby pub. But it was crowded with people, all evidently having a good time. There were a number of tables and a bar. A handsome wooden staircase led up to another floor. Maybe there were rooms up there.

Dudley looked about. Many people were dressed in robes and pointed hats. They were smoking, drinking, playing cards and chatting. The place might be rather shabby-looking but there was a welcoming air about it.

"My, you're a big one, aren't you?" a sultry voice rang out.

Dudley looked down to see a witch with red hair, brown eyes, freckles and wearing a pointed hat looking up at him with a crooked smile. He reddened.

"Ah . . . " he said, unable to form words. She was very pretty.

"And you have a way with words too," she purred at him, flirting. She liked to flirt, even though her heart belonged to someone very special.

Dudley turned an even deeper crimson.

"I'm . . . I'm looking for Harry Potter," he blurted out at her.

A few heads turned to look in his direction when he said this.

"I'm his cousin," Dudley added.

Now, people began whispering, looking at him consideringly, some getting up and walking over to him.

An old wizard with sharp eyes walked up to Dudley, eyeing him. He certainly didn't favor Harry Potter at all.

"Potter's cousin, eh? A lot of people have tried to connect themselves with him to get some of the glory. How are you related?" he asked the young man.

The pub had become hushed as everyone eyed the strongly built young man with a bag thrown over his shoulder.

"His mother Lily Potter is . . . er . . . was my mother's sister," he said. "I just want to find out if he's all right. We left Privet Drive a few months back, and he didn't come with us. He was in some kind of danger and I've come to find out if he's all right, or help him if I can."

Everyone stared at Dudley. Didn't he know that Harry didn't need any help? He'd killed Voldemort after all. What was wrong with him?

"Any wizard worth his salt knows that Harry Potter is fine," the old man snapped. "Where have you been all these months? It's the biggest news around."

"Well, I'm not a wizard," Dudley admitted, and now the room went completely silent as everyone looked at him in disbelief.

"What do you mean, you're not a wizard? Of course you're a wizard, or you wouldn't have been able to walk into the Leaky Cauldron on your own. Muggles can't see this place," the old man told him.

Dudley stared at him for a moment, then at everyone staring back at him. He blinked several times, then his bag slid off his shoulder and dropped heavily to the floor and he wavered.

"Quick! Somebody get him a chair before he topples like a tree!" the old wizard ordered.

A chair was brought and Dudley was helped into it.

"Get him a drink!"

Dudley felt a small glass pushed into his hand and quickly, without looking to see what it was, swallowed it down. He coughed madly, water streaming from his eyes as the Firewhiskey burned its way down his throat and to his belly.

The old wizard chuckled as he continued to cough, rasping.

"Guess that was his first Firewhiskey," he said to the crowd, who laughed in response, some patting him on the back.

"Imagine that," the redheaded witch mused to herself as she stared at the still-choking blonde. Now, she knew who he was.

"Dudley Dursley. A wizard who doesn't know he's a wizard. Oh, I can't wait to tell Harry this!" Ginny Weasley said with a broad smile.

A/N: I decided to add this prologue to this story. It is actually a combination of shorts that I wrote. "One Day in the Park," "Murder at Godric's Hollow" and "Petunia's Promise." After reading them all again, I decided to put them together to form this starting chapter. It lends quite a bit of oomph to the story, as well as gives us glimpses of Snape. This isn't supposed to be an HG/SS story though, but I can't help fitting him in. Especially his interactions with Petunia. Thanks for reading.