Okay. First, I warn you, OOCness. Severely. Harry in here is unrealistically precocious and sarcastic and confident, egoistic, malicious, clever, to the point of being a Gary-Stu. But hopefully you can all enjoy it.

Second, yes, I am perfectly aware that this has references to pop culture which did not exist in 1991, but I'm using it anyway. Take note of the parody genre. I am also aware that the humor is grossly exaggerated to the point of being unfunny and it is repetitive. I am very well aware of this story's flaws. And I will not delete it.

Two men sat, one glaring, one gay. The room was round, the walls hidden behind scores of portraits, all watching the argument eagerly beneath slitted eyes.

"My boy-"

"If you call me 'my boy' one more time I shall wrench out your bloody beard."

There were horrified gasps from the peanut gallery, AKA the portraits sitting all around the round wall of the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore just twinkled at him, benignly. Snape gritted his teeth.

"Absolutely not. We shall end killing each other."

"I don't think so." Dumbledore said calmly. "My- er, Severus-"

Snape closed his eyes. His lips curled inwards as he fought for control. "Headmaster. Send Hagrid. Send Sprout, Flitwick, McGonagall, Filch, anyone! Why me?"

"Why not you?" Dumbledore calmly countered.

"No, no, I mean, why?" Snape said.

"I have been observing the boy, Severus, and I have come to the conclusion that it would be best if you went to retrieve him." Dumbledore said.

Snape had to obey his superior, since he was in charge of his salary. And Dumbledore would never admit he was sending Severus Snape to bring Harry Potter back into the Wizarding World just because he wanted to be amused.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

10.

How he wished that he had parents. Maybe they would be celebrating now if they were alive.

9.

He wondered what they'd been like. Obviously they'd been very nice and special, otherwise Petunia wouldn't be badmouthing them.

8.

He wondered if anyone cared that it was his birthday.

7.

Obviously not. He was stupid to have wondered at all.

6.

Misery.

5.

Dursleys.

4.

Freezing cold. Wind howling outside.

3.

Dudley snoring.

2.

A distant sound-

1.

The exact moment he turned eleven, the door crashed open. Dudley woke with a yelp and a stupid 'Where's the cannon?'. Uncle Vernon snorted, turned around once in the small bed, and woke up reluctantly. Aunt Petunia bolted up and stared around, terrified.

Harry crouched down and silently rolled to a dark corner, curling up in a ball with his eyes open and narrowed at the door.

The figure that had broken the door stood silently, a robe- He was wearing a robe- billowing behind him by the harsh wind outside- Harry shivered- and he was holding a stick, which was faintly glowing at the end. Harry's eyes widened at the red glow, that flicked out.

The man- he said it was a man- stepped into the door. Slowly, deliberately, as if trying to scare them. Harry Potter, however, was not an individual that was scared easily and just gazed curiously and a bit warily at him.

He had black eyes. Cold black eyes, like tunnels. Long black hair which went to his shoulders, which the lightning outside illuminated time to time, showing it was not in healthy condition. He was thin, pale, and had a sneer on his face as he surveyed the raggedy room. His lip curled as his eyes landed on Vernon Dursley, and even more as they alighted on the fat form of Dudley Dursley. He missed Harry entirely.

"Where is Harry Potter?" he said dangerously. Harry's eyes widened. This man was looking for him? The first thing Harry thought was that he didn't look at all like one of those birthday clowns Petunia had hired for Dudley's eighth. The second was that Harry had to find out what his man wanted with him, and escape if he meant harm. And Harry was about 99 percent sure that the guy meant harm.

Thing was, he was in a corner. Quite literally.

"Wha- what do you want with him?" Petunia squeaked, looking quite petrified as the man's eyes sharply rotated to glare at her.

"To take him back." he said.

"You- you're one of them!" Vernon Dursley said, eyes bulging. His hand went, not unobtrusively, to the thing wrapped in brown paper half-under his pillow. The man noticed and casually lifted his stick. A red light appeared for the shortest moment at the end of it and shot out toward the pillow. It exploded. Dudley winced, Harry grinned eagerly. When the smoke cleared, Petunia and Vernon were sitting, shell-shocked, amidst a cloud of drifting feathers which Harry realized must have come from the pillow, of which the case was limply hanging over Petunia's head, almost ripped in pieces. Harry presumed the stick was some kind of weird miniscule wooden gun the government or somebody had been designing.

"My name is Severus Snape." the man continued. "And I want Harry Potter. Give him to me and I will consider not killing you."

Dudley eeped. All of the Dursley's eyes roamed around the room, frantically looking for him. And that was when Harry acted.

He shot out of his corner like a bullet and rammed into Snape's narrow chest, knocking him back and the air out of him. Harry jumped up and ran toward the open door, bracing himself for the icy sea. He was not going to stay here. The Dursleys were quite willing to give him to this demon in disguise, and said demon wanted to 'take him back' to wherever he had come from. And Harry was convinced it was going to be hell. Petunia had said plenty of times he had come from there.

Before he hit the water, however, a strange force propelled him up again and he was blasted back toward the house.

"Not a twitch, Potter. I am taking you back and that is final." Snape thundered. He seemed to have recovered, and he was holding his wooden gun and pointing it at Harry. Harry pretended to relax, and prepared himself to run again.

Snape seemed to anticipate his movements, however, because he waved his wooden gun again and Harry froze, his arms pasted to his sides and his skinny legs plastered together. He couldn't move at all, even though he could roll his eyes. Which he did, crossing them and rolling them in all directions, hoping the movement would somehow release him. He found, however, his mouth could move, after a few moments. How very helpful.

"I'm not going with you." he said defiantly, his voice rough with the seawater that had splashed into his mouth in his near-fall and his cold. "I don't know what you want with me, but I am certainly not letting you dissect me to find out what my intestines are made of, or... whatever you want with me."

"That is certainly an interesting idea, but I don't need to dissect you to know what you're made of." Snape replied, sneering. "Air and dust, no doubt."

"Plenty of water, too." Harry continued, hoping if he talked fast enough the man would get distracted, thus letting him escape. Never mind he couldn't move at all. "Along with oxygen and hydrogen and H20 and C02 and O2 and-"

"Enough!" Snape shouted. "Enough." He raised his stick and pointed it at Harry. Harry had no doubt he was going to be knocked out.

"Wait!" Harry shouted. "I deserve at least to know why you want me."

To his disbelieving hope, Snape seemed to consider this, and then reluctantly lowered his stick. "Fine." he grumbled. "Fine. Potter, you're a wizard."

Harry didn't gasp. He was too busy clicking together the coincidences in his life with the odd power of the stick, the man's unnatural clothes, the way he had simply banged down the door and entered, the way his Uncle had reacted like that- 'You're one of them!' "A wizard, you say?" he said, musingly. "Funny. And it does makes sense, the way I turned Miss Caldwick's wig blue."

Snape furrowed his narrow eyebrows, ignoring Harry's last comment. "They never told you?" There was loathing and scorn and hatred in his voice. "Dumbledore told me you would be well-informed about magic and the wizarding world."

"Whoever he put in charge of telling me, they did a pretty rotten job." Harry said sarcastically, rolling his eyeballs toward the trembling Dursleys. "Fine. I'm a wizard. So are you, I should guess. Now what are you going to do?"

"I'm taking you back." Snape said, aiming his stick- wand, Harry supposed- at Harry again. "Stupe-"

"Hold it, I should at least get a say in this!" Harry yelled, frantically struggling at the- whatever force was rendering him helpless. His little pinky moved. Hope gushed like a water fountain someone had pressed their hand against, and he started to struggle quietly, vehemently. "I don't bloody want to go with you to the vampire caverns or wherever you live."

A muscle twitched in Snape's forehead. "Vampire caverns?"

"You sure look like you've come from there." Harry jeered. He had to stall. His hands had come to life, and he was wriggling them like crazy to get his wrists rotating. "Pale complexion- oh, sorry, that's yellow complexion- and what's with the nose? It's all hooked."

Snape's left hand, the one that wasn't holding the wand, clenched. "As arrogant and uncomprehending as your bully of a father, Potter." He said with barely restrained fury.

Harry totally forgot to struggle. "You knew my father?" he asked.

"Unfortunately." Snape said dourly. "He was the most pathetic, weasley wimp ever to walk the earth." Harry noted Snape was quoting- no doubt without realizing- 'The Magic School Bus'. He saved the information in his head for blackmailing material.

Snape didn't look like the type who would want rumors about him being a MSB fan spreading around the Vampire caverns. "I'm glad he's dead."

Harry started to struggle again, trying not to get angry. Concentrate. Control. He could punch him when he was free. He could move his wrists, and his elbows felt like they had a firm, but loose, cast around them. And- he could wiggle his toes. A bit. A few more minutes. Snape started to raise his wand again. "You're worse." Harry said. Snape, as expected, forgot to work his vampire magic on him. "Who are you, anyway? King of the Lesser?"

"I am Professor Snape, Potions Master. I teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Snape hissed. "Mind your manners, Potter."

"Why should I?" Harry said, with real outrage. "You just insulted half of my parents and my intelligence, as well as trying to kidnap me and putting me in this stasis!"

"It's called a body-bind, Potter." Snape said snidely. "But then with your knowledge, I'm not surprised you don't know."

"Well, I couldn't, could I? Damn Dursleys never told me a thing!" Harry cried indignantly.

"Yes, well, stupid Muggles." Snape said dismissively.

"You, brat," Vernon Dursley started feelingly, completely forgetting the presence of the sinister, and ugly, wizard in the room in face of his nephew's barefaced cheek, "Are an ungrateful orphan who-"

"Shut up." Harry said. He had made up his mind, he was definitely running away after he escaped from Snape. He couldn’t stand the Dursleys, cowardly, feeble fools as they were. And if magic really existed!! So many possibilites. He could go someplace else other than this school where the Snape-man taught- surely magic existed worldwide. He could have his revenge on the Dursleys. He could go for world domination. "Look, Snape-man-"

Snape's right eye twitched. "That's Professor Snape to you." he growled.

"Well, I'm not a student yet, Snape." Harry said impudently. He could move his arms now, and his feet. Now for the rest of his body. "And my father was handsomer than you. So there."

Snape snarled. "You-"

"And he was more mature!" Harry yelled. If he could get Snape angry enough, he might start making mistakes. Harry could move his neck around slightly. The stasis- body-bind, that was, was loosening slowly. "You watch the Magic School Bus!"

Snape went white. Most people went red when they were angry. Vernon went purple. But not Snape, he went white, white, and whiter until he looked even scarier. "I do not." he whispered emphatically.

"Yes you do!" Harry said. "You quoted Wanda a few minutes back."

He could move his torso up and down. He was nearly free.

"You are a presumptive brat!" Snape said furiously. "Just like your-"

Harry didn't let him finish. He'd had way too many insults to his father lately. He rolled, so quickly that Snape nearly didn't manage to catch him.

Nearly. As he dived toward the open hole in the shack where the door had been blasted down, said door suddenly came to life, straightening itself and banging back into the frame. Harry bounced off it, and rolled backwards and banged into the opposite wall, really shocked. He saw Snape's sneering face between his legs as he completed his last circuit and glared back.

"Let me out. I don't want to go to your farty load of brick of a school."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Snape said maliciously. "I have been given orders."

"You can't force me to do this!" Harry yelled. "Have you ever heard of 'human rights', Snape-man? These stinking pigs- giraffes- whales- oh, whatever- are my guardians and they don't want me to go with you. Without their permission, you are legally-"

"Stupefy!" Snape. The jet of red light flew toward Harry, but Harry neatly rolled out of the way again. It was like dodgeball, and actually quite fun, even though his head ached badly. He was furious now. The man had insulted his parents, tried to forcibly knock him out, and take him back to the vampire caverns, where he taught. He was going to press charges. He was going to call his lawyer.

Oh. Right. He didn't have a lawyer. That didn't matter now, because as the Dursleys watched in terror, the two danced around the room- at least, Harry did while Snape fired curses at him- slow ones, Harry thought, and he was fast- bellowing insults at each other.

"Your hair is greasy!"

"Stop being childish, Potter!"

"I'm pressing charges!"

"I'm not registered in the Muggle records, Potter, I'm nonexistent to them!"

"Whatever!"

"RICTUMSEMPRA!"

"Yeah, mutter your Gaelic stuff, you're way too slow!"

"It's Latin, you imbecile!"

"You seem to like that word a lot! Can't think of anything else, can't you?"

"LACERO!"

The last one caught Harry on the foot as Harry dove behind a couch. It immediately started to bleed through his thin, worn black-grey socks. Harry rolled, limply. There was a faint numbness in his foot. And pain lashed through it. Harry yelled.

"Idiot boy, it's broken several of your bones and pierced through the skin in at least three different places." Snape groaned as he walked over. He didn't look too unhappy, actually.

"You cursed me in the first place! I'm going to press charges." Harry repeated feebly.

"You don't have the money to do so." Snape said, touching his forehead with his wand. "You might, of course, discover the fortune your parents left you if you come with me-"

"Fortune?" Harry said, springing up rapturously despite his bad leg. "Why didn't you say so? Lead the way!"

And with that line, limping, he went to the door and beckoned in a kingly way. "After you, Snape-man."

Snape wondered, as he went out, if damn Potters would never stop torturing him.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"Two rooms." Snape grumbled. "Names Severus Snape and..." he trailed off, looking uncertainly at Potter, wondering if he'd be better off giving his real name or an alias. Knowing Potter, he'd probably jump at the fact he was famous.

"Orlando Bloom." Potter proudly announced.

Snape stifled a groan.

"Very well, Mr. Snape, Mr. Bloom." Tom said cordially. "Rooms 14 and 15 will be acceptable, I hope. Here are your keys."

"Thanks!" Potter chirped, snatching them. Snape took them with less enthusiasm.

"Well, well, Orlando." Snape said as they walked down the corridor to their rooms, heavily sarcastic. "Shall I explain a bit about the Wizarding World now, or do you want to hear it now?"
'Orlando' eagerly looked up. "Now would be fine, Snape-man." he said perkily.

Snape knew that if he didn't squash down this nickname now, his image as the dark and mysterious and scary Severus Snape in Hogwarts would be ruined, since Potter would most probably call him that all the time. Somehow, he felt too tired to punish the boy now. Something about the rebellious green eyes, defiance that would never bow, a prankster spirit that would never die. Just like his father. Typical.

"First of all, you need to know the ranking of blood." Snape started once they were in his room. Potter was on the floor, in a ridiculous pose, lying down with his legs casually leaning on the wall. "You will face me when being spoken to."

Potter waved his legs in the air insolently before reluctantly rolling backwards into a somewhat ruffled sitting position. "The highest rank is pureblood." Snape said. "The law, technically, states that all of us are equal, but few people see it that way. Purebloods must have at least all grandparents as wizards. Next are halfbloods, who have at least one parent or grandparent as a Muggle-"

Potter raised his hand. If Snape hadn't been watching the mocking expression on his face, he might have taken it for real respect. "What rank am I?"

"Halfblood." Snape said. "Your mother was Muggleborn-"

"What's a Muggle?"

"Nonmagical person." Snape said shortly. "Basically, Muggleborns have Muggle parents. Magical genes do that."

"And my dad?"

"A pureblood. Shame to the family name." Snape said.

"Potter is a pureblood name?"

Snape grimaced. "Unfortunately."

"What rank are you?"

That was a question Snape was not keen on answering. He answered anyway, since if he didn't, Potter might assume he was a Muggleborn. "Halfblood."

"Same as me, then." Potter said brightly. Snape twitched. Being the same rank as Potter. How galling. "Tell me about my parents."

"I hated them. End of story." Snape said. "The next thing you need to know is that twenty years ago, a Dark Lord started rising..."

Snape tried to keep from portraying Potter-the-baby as a gift from God, some kind of magical talisman against the Dark. He expected Potter to act pleased with himself, but was astonished when Potter actually wrinkled his nose and said he hated fame. "He who is overlooked meets no resistance." he quoted.

"You're stuck with fame, Potter. Deal with it." Snape retorted.

"Yeerch. I imagine you're quite famous in your world, too, Snape-man. What did you do, do a shampoo advertisement that went wrong?" Potter jeered back.

They glared at each other.

"Go to your room." Snape spat at last. "And if you do not refer to me as 'Professor Snape' in public, I will demonstrate the Densaugeo curse."

"Whatever, Snape-man." Potter said insolently, skipping out of his room, avoiding the hex Snape sent his way lithely. "See you in the morning."

Snape buried his face in his pillow and let out a groan. What he didn't notice was that Potter had nicked his wand.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Snape knocked on the door of room 14. "Potter."

There was a clattering inside, as if the infernal boy had just been practicing ballet in a closet full of coat hangers. "Come in." said a muffled, feminine voice.

Snape was sure the boy had been inhaling helium. There was no other explanation. The voice was a girl's, he was positive, even though Potter hadn't reached puberty yet and there wasn't much difference between his and a girl's. He pushed open the door.

And stared.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"Orlanda Bloom." the girl said, looking slightly guilty.

The girl? Snape looked closer.

"Oh, good Lord." he said.

It was Potter. Potter, who had mysteriously turned into a girl during the night. He- she- he- she- had waist-length black hair, which had been combed vigorously and tied back with a moldy-looking yellow Muggle rubber band. He- she- had dark circles under his- her- eyes- apparently she hadn't slept much. Despite this, her green eyes were bright and aware, alive with excitement. Her chin was more pointed, cheekbones more prominent, and... the scar was hidden by waves and waves of long, messily sheared black bangs.

Snape wanted to cry. Why was he stuck with stuff like this? "What have you done to yourself?"

"It's my disguise." the girlish voice said. "No one will suspect a girl of being Harry Potter, right? And I thought you wouldn't like the attention-"

"How did you do this to yourself?"

To his fury and amazement and (Deep, deep inside, very, very slightly) grudging respect, she pulled out a wand from her long boots (Somehow transfigured from the ragged sneakers he'd been wearing the night before) and twirled it, quite expertly. It was his wand.

"Give me that!" he bellowed, lunging at him- her. She dove out of the way and pointed his- his!- wand at him and enunciated clearly- 'Densaugeo!'

To his amazement, his front teeth started to grow. She danced out of the way as Snape snarled- a somewhat muffled snarl- and pointed his wand at him, saying in a scared but defiant voice- "Promise you won't do anything to me, and I'll give this back to you."

Snape, as a response, just leapt for her again, determined to rip out her throat with his new teeth and only managed to impale himself on a wayward bedspring. She just ran to the opposite corner of the room. "I just wanted to experiment!"

"GIVE ME THAT!" Snape yelled.

"Promise!"

"You deserve everything coming at you, you selfish, nosy, arrogant-"

"Promise!"

"Oh-" Snape said, breathing hard. "Damn you." She sure was fast. "Fine. I promise."

"Promise by the Wizard's Oath."

"How the hell did you find that out?" Snape couldn't help asking. Potter just wordlessly pointed at the two books neatly stacked on the dresser- of course, the rooms all had secondhand books for customers who didn't have anything better to do. One of them was titled 'Wizarding Vows and Unbreakable Promises'. Snape had to hand it to her. She was a Slytherin all right.

"I swear by the magic in me, the magic around me, the magic that is my rightful inheritance..." Snape started. It was a fairly simple vow, but a strong one, which would take away your magic if you broke your word. "That I will not harm Orl- I mean, Harry James Potter for the reason she stole my wand." He couldn't say he would never harm her. That would be harmful for his future self.

The magic glowed violet and Potter tossed back the wand. "So." she said brightly, blowing a few strands of black hair out of her eyes in a flirtatious gesture. "When are we getting my books?"