Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter. All characters belong to J. K. Rowling

Harry sighed in relief as he watched the Dursleys' car pull out of the drive way, with Dudley and his cousin's friend Piers loaded into the back seat. The memory of going to the zoo with them was still quite fresh in his mind, even though it had been seven years ago. The snake was still one of the highlights for him, even if he had to spend ages in his cupboard for making the glass enclosure disappear.

Harry paced the sidewalk, uncertain of summoning the night Bus.

'I don't have a wand, but maybe if I stick out my hand…' Harry thought as he glanced up and down the street, reassuring himself that no one would notice before he stretched his right hand out.

A burst of air knocked him back and Harry felt relief that turned into confusion. A dark blue triple-decker bus appeared before him, jolting to a stop. Harry's brows furrowed – it looked a lot different from the last time he rode it to escape from the Dursleys in his third year.

"Is this the Knight Bus?" Harry asked uncertainly.

The bus conductor, Stan Shunpike, looked at Harry as if he were crazy. "Of course we're the Knight Bus! What else did you think this was?" he exclaimed, flashing a ridiculous toothy grin.

Stan looked the same the last time Harry saw him in his third year; in fact, he looked even wilder and crazier than he usually did. Apparently, the bus, on the other hand, sported a new look that lacked the beds, uncurtained windows, and candled bracelets.

'Of course,' Harry thought, 'it's daytime now. So stupid.' He scolded himself for acting so foolish.

"Where's your parents kid? Surely you're too young to go out on your own?" the conductor asked in his cockney accent, looking concerned.

Harry hesitated. He wasn't prepared for this question, although he should have been. It took him off guard.

"Um…my uncle's at the Ministry to do some business. I'm to meet him at Diagon alley." Harry made up on the spot.

"Alright then, hop on," the driver said. "The cost's fourteen Sickles with hot chocolate. We accept Muggle money too," he continued.

Harry counted out five Muggle pounds and accepted a steaming hot mug of hot chocolate.

"So what's your name kid?" the driver, Ern, asked conversationally as he tucked away the money.

"Har-err-Luke Alexander Snape," Harry said without thinking.

"Alright then. Take a seat," he told the raven-haired teen, before taking off.

Harry gazed around at the occupants of the bus before choosing a seat. Few seats were occupied by moth-eaten old witches and an eccentric pair of wizards wearing hats that were taller than Harry. His bright, emerald green eyes met the dark, obsidian eyes of one Severus Snape as he passed by.

'Could this day get any worse?' Harry whined internally, feeling the urge to bang his head against a metal pole.

Severus had recognised those bright green eyes - Lily's eyes - the moment Harry peeked inside the door. Harry's choice of name shocked Snape even more than his eyes did, causing him to drop the newspaper that he had been gripping onto his lap in a crumpled mess.

'What is Potter playing at?' he mused.

He smirked at the boy, but Harry just pretended to ignore the icy stare sent his way and gazed out the window, acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Meanwhile, his thoughts were flying at one hundred miles per hour, 'Think, Harry, think. You just used the last name of the person who's sitting right across from you. Avoid him forever? Pretend not to know him? That's it! I'm not supposed to know him yet; I'll just act like I don't know him,' Harry smiled inwardly.

After an eternity, the bus arrived at Diagon Alley. Harry got off the bus as swiftly as his short legs would carry him but Severus Snape, trailing behind, stopped him.

"Harry Potter," Severus sneered, "Would you care to explain why you're gallivanting around London using my name as yours?"

A few people passing by listened eagerly to their conversation.

"Potter? I'm sorry sir, but you must be mistaken. My name is Luke, though I would like to meet the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry told him apologetically.

It would have been sincere… except the boy looked as if he were trampled by a horde of hippogriffs.

The Potions Master barked at the nosy-strangers, before they hurriedly left, leaving Snape and Harry alone.

"Follow me," Severus said.

"My aunt told me never to talk to strangers," Harry said, on guard, still pretending feigning ignorance of the mans' identity.

Snape caught him by the neck and pushed him to the wall. He looked down his nose while his dark obsidian eyes drilled into Potter's emerald green ones.

"What are you doing out here?" Snape asked in his gruff oily voice, demanding an answer to his question.

Any eleven year old in place of Harry would have gulped and started to cry but Harry smile was bordering on a smirk. "I'm sorry but I'm only taking in the sights," he said looking around the street and not into Snape's knowing eyes.

Snape however was neither amused nor believed him and he simply refused to let Harry go. With a strong hold on his shoulder, Snape steered him into the Leaky Cauldron and pushed him unceremoniously into a private booth.

He moved his hand in a pattern, setting up wards around the table so as not to be disturbed or overheard. Harry recognised the routine, but kept his ten-year-old face showing the necessary amount of shock and awe.

Satisfied that he had done his job well enough to ensure their privacy, Snape once again turned to Harry and let their eyes meet.

Harry, realising what Snape was trying to do, hastily tried to shield his mind. Imagining an invisible shield around his memories and his closest thoughts, he pushed his memories of when he was ten to the surface and made a few memories up that were bound to distract the Slytherin Head of House.

Severus in his sense of superiority on the other hand began to swim through the child's surface memories, the ones Harry had fabricated.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked in a passive voice, averting his gaze from him.

Harry decided to play the part of the scared child that he had proved himself to be and started shaking and mumbling incoherently. Snape, clearly annoyed by the act, banged his fist on the table and, pointing a finger threateningly, asked him, "Why did you lie?" whilst pausing after every word.

Harry took the opportunity and started to speak but only slightly higher than a whisper, "I…I overheard my Aunt…she said that my mum was a witch…" He started to stammer, "I was so… so confused and… and didn't know what to do…" Harry then looked at Snape and wrung his hands together like a frightened child. "I… I was about to run to my room… when she said that she'd set my mo… mother's letters on fire… burn them…get rid of everything I had left."

Snape sneered at his words, glaring at Harry as he beckoned for him to continue. He would not allow himself to be overruled by grief at this moment.

Harry clasped his throat trying to fake choking. With a swish of Snape's wand, he filled the glass in front of him with crystal clear water.

Gulping the contents of the glass, Harry tried to remain impassive, not knowing how long he could feign ignorance, but it seemed that he was doing well so far. Keeping up with the façade he continued with his tale, making it up as he went. "I did the only thing I could think of… I went to the attic that night and looked for the letters." Tentatively, he raised his head, making the older wizard arch a dark eyebrow in response.

"What letters?" he asked in his trademark oily voice. Snape had a knack for making others feel tiny, but looking at the small boy in front of him, he almost had the heart to pity him.

"Letters… letters addressed to my aunt, when she was young," Harry answered before quickly looking down to avoid meeting Snape's eyes. He was pulling at straws, but Snape's response left him more confused. 'What? He believes me?' he thought wildly, 'Why would the Slytherin be interested in my mother's letters? Did my mum even have any?'

"In those letters, my mother had written about a world of ma… magic. About her School… her friends. A Wizarding street called Dia… Dia-" but that's where Snape cut in.

"Diagon alley?" he asked.

Harry simply nodded.

Snape knew something wasn't right but he couldn't put his finger on it. He had already tried Legilimency on the boy and he had proved to be innocent, but there was something more to him…maturity maybe or a different level of intellect from other children his age. No, something was obviously odd about Young Mr. Potter and he would get to the root of it, by hook or by crook.

"Go. Back. Home," Snape whispered with a pause after every word. It was the tone of voice he used to control insolent students, a voice that left no room for hesitation or obedience.

Harry, deciding not the cross Snape, got up to leave and started walking.

"Wait," Snape's voice said from behind, making Harry stop dead in his tracks. A shiver went down his spine, goosebumps running to the tips of his fingers.

'Had Snape figured out that I've been lying all this time?' Harry thought.

Slowly, Harry spun on his heels to face Snape, though he kept his eyes glued to the dirty ground in an attempt to avoid making contact. The man was sharp, and any flicker of emotion could result in a slip that Snape would undoubtedly catch.

Drinking from his goblet Snape said, "I'll see you on the day you receive your Hogwarts letter. Until then, don't even think about venturing into the Wizarding world by yourself, you foolish boy!"

Harry nodded reverently and dashed out of the pub, down the street and took the first Muggle bus back home.

Harry's thoughts were going haywire. 'How come I saw Snape the first day back from the past? Was it a coincidence?'

With a new resolve and determination to make amends, Harry looked out the window to see the sun set in the orange horizon; the clouds illuminated a dull gold over the ever-present London smog.