Title: Harry Snape And The Sorcerer Stone

Rating: K

Summary: AU. Severus and Lily Snape died at the hands of Voldemort. Their son is the Boy-Who-Lived and is soon shipped off to the Dursley's. Eleven years later he gets his Hogwarts letter and embarks on his destiny, to kill Voldemort once and for all.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters but I do like to play with them.

Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal thank you very much. They were the last people that you would expect to be involved in anything strange or mysteries because they didn't hold with such nonsense. Vernon Dursley was the Director of a firm calling Grunnings, which made drills. He was a large, beefy, man with hardly any neck but he did have a large mustache. Mrs. Dursley had twice the usual amount of neck, which came in handy as she liked to lean over her gate and spy on the next door neighbors and whatever they were doing.

The Dursley's had a small son called Dudley, and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursley's had everything they wanted but they also had a secret and their greatest fear was that someone would discover it. The Dursley's couldn't bear if anyone found out about the Snape's. Mrs. Snape was Mrs. Dursley's sister but they hadn't seen each other in many years, in-fact Mrs. Dursley pretended that she didn't have a sister-because her sister and her good for nothing husband was as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.

The Dursley's didn't know what they would do if the Snape's appeared in the street. The Dursley's knew the Snape's had a small son too, but they hadn't even met him. This was another reason for not wanting the Snape's over. They didn't want their son mixing with a child like that. The Dursley's woke on the dull Tuesday that our story starts with nothing telling them that strange and unusual things were about to happen.

Mr. Dursley picked his most boring tie for work and then kissed his wife goodbye. He tried to kiss Dudley goodbye, but missed, because Dudley was having a tantrum and throwing cereal on the walls.

"Little Tyke," he laughed and then left.

None of them noticed the tawny owl that had just fluttered past their window.

Mr. Dursley pulled his car out of the drive and that's when he noticed the first strange thing, a tabby cat setting on the corner of Privet Drive. He watched it in the rear view mirror and saw that it was looking up, like it was reading. Of course Mr. Dursley figured that it was his imagination, which was hard to believe as he didn't believe in imagination. He gave himself a small shake and put the cat out of his mind. The next strange thing that happened was a group of people dressed in odd clothing.

Vernon hated people that dressed in funny clothes and glared as a group of them passed him by, all of them talking excitedly about something. The cars moved on and Mr. Dursley moved past them, his mind now firmly back on drills. Mr. Dursley always had his back turned in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't then he would of found it hard to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls but the people on the street saw them.

They gazed open mouthed as owl after owl flew by. Many people had never seen a owl in daylight before. At noon Mr. Dursley's went to get himself a bun from the bakery. He glared as he passed by a group of people dressed in cloaks and then went inside. Something was going on and it filled him with some sort of dread. Only when he came out, carrying a large donut, did he finally catch a little of what they were saying.

"The Snape's, that's right, that's what I heard-"

"-yes, their son, Harry-"

Mr. Dursley stopped dead, fear flooding him. He looked back at the group, wanting to say something but thought better of it. He ran across the road, up to his office, snapped at his secretary to not disturb him, and had just about finished dialing his wife when he put the receiver down. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she got so upset at the mention of her sister. He didn't blame her, if he had a sister like that, but still those people in cloaks and whisper talks about the Snape's.

Of course he knew that Snape was probably a very common name and he wasn't sure if their son was even named Harry. He hadn't even met the boy. It might be Harvey or Harold. No point in worrying about anything. When he left his office at five he ran right into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grumbled.

"No need to be sorry," said the voice of a very old man. "Nothing could upset me today. Rejoice for You-Know-Who is gone at last. Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day."

And then he hugged him and walked on.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete strange and he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He ran to his car, got in, and hurried home. Deep down, for the first time, he really hoped that he was imagining things and that this was just some strange dream. When he got home the first thing that he noticed, which didn't improve his mood, was the tabby cat that he had seen that morning. It was sitting on the wall and when Mr. Dursley tried to make it go away it just gave him a stern look. Was that normal behavior for a cat? He let himself in and joined his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had a nice owl-free morning. She told him of Mrs. Next Door Neigbors problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word, won't. Mr. Dursley tried to act normal and his wife, thankfully didn't notice. When Dudley was put to bed Mr. Dursley was able to catch the last of the evening news. The report didn't improve his mood as the reporter told everyone that was listening about shooting stars flying over Kent. He quickly turned it off just as Mrs. Dursley appeared with his tea.

"Um, Petunia dear, have you heard from your sister lately?" he asked.

"No, why?" Mrs. Dursley hasked, snapping at him.

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls…shooting stars…and there were a lot of funny people in town today."

"So," snapped Mrs. Dursley again.

"Well, I just thought…maybe…it had something to do with…you know…her crowd."

His wife drank her tea through pursed lips and Mr. Dursley wondered if he should mention the Snape's but decided against it.

"Their son-he'd be around Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. Nasty common name, if you ask me."

"Oh yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom Mr. Dursley went over to the window. The cat was still there, but looking down the street as though he was expecting someone. Was he imagining things? Could all of this have to do with the Snape's? If it did…if it got out that they were related to a pair of-well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursley's got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep almost at once but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Snape's were involved, there was no reason foe them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Snape's knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind…He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on-he yawned and turned over-it couldn't affect them

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might be slipping into an uneasy sleep but the cat on the wall was showing no sign of sleepiness. It didn't even flinch when a car door slammed a few streets away or moved with a fly went past it. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared at the corner the cat was watching, appeared so suddenly you would of thought he had just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and it narrowed its eyes.

Never had a man like this appeared in Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old judging by the silver in his beard and hair, which were long enough to tuck under his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high heel, buckle boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long, like it had been broken twice. His name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore wasn't even aware that he had arrived on a street where everything from his name to his boots were unwelcome. He was busy looking through his cloak for something but he seem to notice that he was being watched. He looked up and saw the cat. The sight of the cat seem to amuse him because he chuckled "I should of known."

Soon he found was he was looking for and held it up. It looked like a regular lighter but when he pressed a button the first light went out with a pop. He continued to click until the only thing that was shown was the pinprick that represented the cat. He then put out the Put Outer and made his way to number four, where he sat down next to the cat.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall," he told the cat.

He turned but the cat was gone. In it's place was a very stern woman with square glasses, just like the ones that had been around the cats eyes.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"Minerva, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly before."

"You would be stiff you had to sit on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed by at least a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

"Oh their celebrating all right," she said. "You think they would be more careful, but no-even the Muggles were bound to know something's going on. It was on their news."

"Well you can't blame them," Dumbledore said. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," Professor McGonagall said angerly. "But you would think they would be more careful, like I said before, but their in broad daylight, not even dressed in muggle clothes…swamping rumors."

She threw Dumbledore a side-way glance.

"It would be horrible if on the day that You-know-who seems to of vanished the Muggles found out about us all. I supposed he has really gone at last."

"It most certainly seems so," Dumbledore said. "So do you want a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop," Dumbledore said. "It's a muggle sweet that I'm rather fond of."

"No thanks," Professor McGonagall said coldly, as though this wasn't the time for lemon drops. "As I was say, if You-Know-Who has gone-"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, didn't seem to notice. "It gets all too confusing if we keep on saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seem to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," Professor McGonagall said. "But your different. Everyone knows that you're the only one that You-Know- oh alright, Voldemort was frightened of."

"You flatter me," Dumbledore said. "But Voldemort had powers that I'll never have."

"Well only because your too-noble-to use them," Professor McGonagall said.

"Lucky it's dark," Dumbledore said. "I haven't blushed this much since Professor Sprout told me that you liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes and continued. "The owls are nothing compared to the rumors that have been floating around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached a point that she had been waiting on all night. Because as neither a cat or a woman did she give Dumbledore such a piercing stare. She wouldn't believe what she was hearing until Dumbledore told her that it was true.

"What their saying," Professor McGonagall pressed on, "Is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric Hollow. He went to find the Snape's. The rumor is that Lily and Severus are-are-that they're-dead."

Dumbledore bowed his head and McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and Severus…I can't believe it…I didn't want to believe it…Oh, Albus…"

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know…I know…," he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled but she went on. "That's not all. They're saying that he tried to kill the Snape's son, Harry. But-he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Snape, Voldemort's power somehow broke-and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's true-it's true?" faultered McGonagall. "After all he's done…all the people that's he's killed…he couldn't kill a little boy? Its just astounding…of all the things to stop him…but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall dabbed her eyes but Dumbledore took out a watch and stared at it. It was a very odd-looking watch that had no numbers but hands. It must of made sense to Dumbledore because he said. "Hagrid is late. I supposed he was the one that told you that I would be here."

"Yes and I was wondering why you're here, of all places," McGonagall said.

"I'm here to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle," Dumbledore told her.

"Dumbledore-you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people that were less like us. And they have this son. I've been watching them all day. Their son was kicking his mum in the legs, begging for sweets. Harry Snape come and live here."

"It's the best place for him," Dumbledore said. "They can explain everything when Harry's older. I've written them a letter."

"Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter," Professor McGonagall said. "He'll be famous, every child in our world will know his name. In fact they might make a Harry Snape day in his honor."

"I understand, Minerva, but this will be the best place for him," Dumbledore repeated. "I mean, famous before he could walk and talk, famous for something that he'll never remember. It could turn any child's head. Here he'll be away from all that until he's ready to take it."

McGonagall swallowed. "Yes-yes, I fully understand. But how is the boy getting here?"

She looked at his cloak, thinking that he had Harry hidden.

"Hagrid is bring him," Dumbledore told her.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Professor, I would trust Hagrid with my life."

McGonagall was just about to say something when there was a boom and suddenly a large bike appeared with an even larger man. He turned off the engine and got off, a bundle in his arms.

"I hope the trip wasn't too much for you, Hagrid," Dumbledore said.

"Nope," Hagrid answered. "The little tyke fell asleep while we were flying over Bristol. Of course the Snape house is totally destroyed."

"Sorry to hear that," Dumbledore said. "So where did you get that bike from?'

"Got it from Young Sirius Black," Hagrid said. "James talked him into letting me borrow it."

"That's good," Dumbledore said. "Well lets get this over with."

Dumbledore and the others looked into the bundle. Baby Harry had smooth black hair and on his forehead was a curious cut, shaped like a bolt of lightening.

"Is that where-"

"Yes, he'll have that scar forever," Dumbledore told McGonagall. "Now let's get this over."

He walked over to the front door of number four and placed him down. He then took out a letter and placed it with the bundle.

"Well we have no business here," Dumbledore said. "I have a party to attend and then I'll be seeing you tomorrow."

McGonagall blew her nose and gave Harry an air kiss. She then turned back into a cat and was gone.

"I'll be returning Sirius his bike back," Hagrid told Dumbledore.

Dumbledore nodded and with a roar Hagrid was gone as well. Dumbledore then went to the corner and took out the Put Outer. One flick and all the lights returned to their posts. He looked at the bundle of blankets that contained Harry Snape and smiled. He really wished him all the luck in the world. He then gave one might swish of his cloak and was gone.

A breeze ruffled the hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky shy, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Snape rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley…He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Snape-the boy who lived."


A/N: I thought it would be great to write a story where Harry is not a Potter but a Snape. He still saves the Wizarding world and is still friends with Ron and Hermione.