Knew Father

by ImperialJedi

Summary: Sevitus! Harry knew. He had known since he was 10 that Snape is his real father. Too bad Snape's a git and it's taken him until Harry's 6th year for him to see that Harry's a natural Occlumens.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not make any money off of this story. Thank you J.K. Rowling for creating the Harry Potter Universe and allowing us fanfiction authors and readers to play with your creation. Don't sue me :P

AN: This entire chapter has no dialogue whatsoever. At this point I'm just afraid that if any of them open their mouth that they will become OOC. Next chapter will have dialogue and will probably include more background and Harry's first days knowing he's a wizard. Sevitus is a story where Snape is Harry's father, but does not follow the Severitus' Challenge. Please enjoy!

CHAPTER 1: Knew Dursleys

Harry knew. He'd known for years now. He had found out exactly one year before the night that he had first found out about the wizarding world. He had told Hagrid, his first friend, that he was "Just Harry" in response to the news that he was a wizard. On the surface he had meant that he was just normal and not capable of magic. Hagrid was able to call him on it easily because Harry was not normal at all. He had a history of doing accidental magic whenever his emotions got out of control. Even worse was that there were other things beside his magical ability that set Harry apart. Many of these things did not have much of an explanation until Harry learned about the wizarding community and attended the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Of course, while he found many answers, he also found many more questions.

Under the surface, however, young eleven-year-old "Just Harry" was already struggling with his identity. For most of his young life he had believed that his parents, James and Lily Potter, had died in a car crash. As a result Harry had received a lightening bolt shaped scar upon his forehead and was left in the guardianship of his mother's sister, Aunt Petunia and her family. This was unfortunate, as Petunia had broken all ties with her sister Lily and remained to this day on bad terms with her memory.

Petunia's family was so uptight and chesty about appearing normal that they seemed to be abnormal for their efforts. Petunia and Vernon had met through mutual friends. Petunia was thin in an equine like way with blonde hair. She spent her days working at a mediocre marketplace and always keeping up with the local social scene. Vernon Dursley was a beefy man with a large mustache and was seen by his contemporaries as an up and coming businessman who dealt in drills. Not long after they got married and Petunia took up the Dursley name they had a son that they named Dudley. They were so enthralled with their son, thinking that there could be nothing better that they failed to notice the incredulity that gave way on other people's faces when they heard the regrettable name.

It was November 1st, 1981, that Aunt Petunia woke one morning to find one year old Harry on her doorstep. Little Harry was very cute wearing little pajamas accompanied with a cute beanie that covered his mop of fuzzy black hair. It had been a very chilly Halloween night, but Harry was wrapped securely in a forever-warmed blanket and set in a basket with a single letter. The person who had left Harry on the doorstep of the Dursley residence, number 4 Privet Drive, claimed it explained everything. The letter was quite short and would have been just as useful in explaining everything as it would be if the only thing printed in it was "42".

The Dursley couple, already very occupied with one very needy one-year-old, were quite resentful when they had no choice in the matter and were forced to take in Lily's now orphaned son. At first they two boys were cared for equally in all matters except for those pertaining to unconditional love. As time wore on their dislike for their additional burden began to show. Their nephew soon became subjected to various forms of neglect and emotional abuse. They called him by degradations such as "boy", "brat" and "freak". Harry also learned how to do both inside and outside chores early on and was put to work for long hours. It started to become common for the Dursleys to refuse Harry meals from time to time and the meals that he did get were always lacking.

Before entering primary school, Harry had merely slept in the cupboard under the stairs. Within the first month of school Harry was outdoing Dudley in all subjects. It was not long before Harry was grounded to his "room" for extended periods of time and denied access to his homework material. Harry became sick more often than his classmates because of bad nutrition and confinement to his cupboard. On the playground, Dudley, now grown to the size of a small whale, was the class bully. He liked to pick on other kids especially runty little Harry who was small for his age. Harry never had any friends because Dudley would discourage them with his fatty little fists and other methods of harassment. In class, teachers thought Harry was not motivated or very bright. Nevertheless, school remained the brightest part of Harry's day and he avidly learned his letters and numbers.

Harry learned the rules and customs of the Dursley's quickly and did all that was in his power to make his stay with them bearable. He didn't ask questions, he anticipated his family's needs, and he avoided bad situations, particularly Dudley on the playground. Despite his fortitude and cunning, Harry was dispossessed in a way because he was overly curious.

On his 10th birthday, Harry was dusting all the rooms in the house which was one of the more easy going activities he would take to from time to time when the Dursleys demanded it. He was in a contented mood having two adequate meals thus far, breakfast and lunch, with the promise of some dinner. Harry was idly wondering if Uncle Vernon had remembered it was his birthday and was treating him nicely for it. It would seem so out of character that Harry couldn't picture it because his uncle would be more likely to treat him worse than normal. Some people consider birthdays as their "special day", but Harry knew he was not special. Surely someone would have wanted him if he was, but his relatives made it very clear that they very much wished him to be anywhere but with them, all the while retaining his services.

Harry dusted off the shoe rack in his Aunt's closet. He stood up and pushed his taped up glasses back into position after they had slid down his nose. Surveying the closet, Harry observed clothes for the most part, but in the far back he saw a towering stack of loose papers, receipts, boxes, and was that the book they confiscated a while back? He tried not to step on anything as he slipped inside the closet and stood precariously tiptoe on one foot. Since his arms were not nearly long enough to reach, Harry placed a steadying hand on the tower and managed to grab a corner of the book. There was a phone book and several slippery recipes cards on top of the used copy of Oliver Twist. Pulling hard, Harry managed to dislodge the book, but the effort toppled him backwards and he banged his head on the closet door. The phonebook fell to the floor and Harry looked up in time to jump out of the way as the entire shaky pile fell over and sailed out the closet and across the carpeted floors like a game of 52 card pickup, but much worse.

At the time his Aunt Petunia rushed in screeching at the top of her voice at the "boy" for being so careless and disrespectful of other people's possessions. She carried on for several minutes until her voice became too hoarse to continue. Scowling she pointed at the mess and ordered Harry to pull it all out of the closet. It was about time she organized it anyway. Harry was directed in separating the different types of documents. Recipes in one pile, receipts and tax forms in another, mail here, and grade reports there. He moved around a lot, bent down, stood up, carefully loaded papers into the correct boxes, ran downstairs for file folders, ran upstairs, ran downstairs for paperclips, and ran back up again. Petunia sat serenely on the bed shifting through documents. In the end, the once treacherous pile had become a safe and solid tower of three boxes.

Picking up the last of the papers left out, Harry's Aunt thrust them into his scrawny chest causing him to stumble and nearly lose his balance. Harry looked down curiously at the papers. During their endeavor it appeared that Petunia had come across documentation pertaining to her nephew. In her shrill voice, Aunt Petunia explained that she and Vernon already did more for him then they needed to, so Harry should be responsible for his own papers. After giving once last sharp reminder about the importance of the papers she stalked out.

With a grin encompassing his face, Harry sped to his cupboard and quickly stored his new acquisition in a safe spot, tucked neatly in the back by the foot of the small mattress on which he had slept all his life. From out of his oversized hand-me-downs he received from Dudley, Harry withdrew the book, Oliver Twist, and hid it under his pillow. He was just closing the door when Petunia called the boy to the kitchen to help make dinner.

Later, that evening all the chores were done and Harry was allowed to go to bed for the night. Glad to be away from his gossipy aunt and obese pig-like uncle and cousin, Harry pulled the papers that he had gotten earlier into his lap. Flipping through the pile he saw that most of it was tedious legal documents regarding his guardianship. One of the heavier papers quickly found itself under the 10-year-old's scrutiny. He would have jumped for joy had he had the room in his cupboard. He had found his birth certificate.

It was a beautiful piece of parchment, with bright ink that almost seemed to glow and sparkle in a simple but elegant border design. All the information was there. His name, Harry James Potter, weight, height, black hair, green eyes, mother, father… It was all there, and that was when Harry learned that his birth father was not James Potter. Harry knew. He'd known for years now, ever since his 10th birthday, that he was, in fact, the son of Severus Snape.

The next day was Sunday and the Dursleys went on a family picnic. They didn't let Harry out of the cupboard. It didn't bother him as much as it normally would because Harry had a lot to think about.

AN: Big thanx to Manx for catching my typo with the date. I give cookies to you! (Edited 2/6/07)