Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters.
My Father's Son
10-year-old Harry walked into the attic of his Aunt and Uncle's house and His Uncle had ordered him to clean out the attic. Harry looked around at the dozens of boxes in the attic. It would take days to clean the whole thing out.
Harry sighed and got started. There was no use complaining. He would have to do it anyway, so he might as well get started. The first box Harry started on was of Dudley's old broken toys. Why his Aunt and Uncle would save things that Dudley had purposely broke was beyond him. He quickly tossed everything and went on to the next box, which seemed to have a bunch of China plates. He put the box aside on the side of the room. He knew better than to through things like that out. This Aunt would kill him.
The next box Harry found intrigued him. It was a small Box that had the name 'Lily' written on it. Lily was the name of his mother. He carefully opened the box and started sifting through it. He found some old clothes, some dolls that must have been from when she was child and an old photograph.
Harry admired the picture for a moment. He noted that he had her eyes. They were bright green, just like hers. After a minute he put the picture in his oversized pocket. It was the first picture he'd ever seen of his mother and wasn't about to give it up. He then kept looking in the box to see if he could find anything else, maybe a picture of his father, but he couldn't. What he did find surprised him. Deep inside the box was a letter that had his name written on it. Harry carefully opened the letter and started reading.
If you're reading this than it means I am no longer with you, which I'm afraid is a very real possibility. You see, we are in hiding now and it is only a matter of time before Voldemort finds us. I hope that whoever you are with is taking good care of you and that they love you. Now, for the reason I wrote you. I'm afraid that I must tell you something that will come as a bit of a shock to you. James Potter is not your father.
Harry gaped in shock. He never knew his father, but he'd been told by his Aunt that the man's name was James Potter and that he was a drunk that got him and Harry's mother killed. Harry decided to ignore the shock and kept reading.
Don't misunderstand me, Harry. James loved you with all his heart. To him, you were his, but he was not your biological father. Your father was my best friend. He comforted me when I thought that James had died. When I think back, I realize that it was unfair for me to do that to him. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret it, not for one second, but I know that it hurt him deeply. You see, your father's feelings for me ran deeper than mine for him. He felt for me what I felt for James and in a way I took advantage of that. I know that he resents me for doing it, but I can't regret because it gave me you.
Now, I know you're probably wondering who your father is. I'm not sure if you know him or not, given that I'm not sure how old you are at the moment you are reading this. If you do know him, I dare say he hasn't been kind to you. You see, he and James didn't like each other very well. Also, he may resent you for being James'. His name is Severus Snape. He's a good man, Harry and I hope you'll give him a chance. I love you, never forget that.
Harry looked up and saw his Aunt staring at him. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew the secret of his paternity. "You knew."
Petunia scoffed. "Of course I knew. Did you really think I'd have received that letter and not have read it?"
"I don't understand. You hate me. You hated my mother, so why would you keep me when you knew I had a father that was still alive?" Harry asked.
"That headmaster of hers insisted that neither you or that Snape brat ever find out," she answered.
"What does a headmaster have to do with anything?" asked Harry.
"He's the head freak of that world," Petunia answered.
"What world," he asked. His aunt wasn't making any sense to him.
"The magical world," Petunia said, spitting out the word, 'magical' like it was poison.
"Magic? There's no such thing as magic, is there?" a shocked Harry asked. This had been a really weird day for him. First he finds out that his father isn't his father and now he was being told that magic was real.
"Oh, it's real alright. That freakishness is real. My sister went to that school every year. It's what got her killed," Petunia answered.
"You told me she died in a car crash," Harry said angrily.
"Well, I had to say something, didn't I? I couldn't tell you that she got herself blown up." she said.
"So, that's what happened? My mother and step father were blown up?" Harry asked.
Petunia nodded. "And we got saddled with you," she said with disgust.
"But why? If I had a living parent, why didn't you just tell him?" Harry asked.
"I wasn't going to make that freaky headmaster angry. He said you were not to know," she answered.
"Why would he care?" Harry wondered. He didn't understand why anyone would care who his father was.
"I don't' know and I don't care. All I care about is that in a year, you'll be going to that freak school. You can find that freak father of yours and tell him yourself. Then I'll never have to see your worthless self again," Petunia ranted before walking out of the room.
Harry stood there in shock. He'd had one hell of a day. In the last hour, he found out that he had a living parent, his parents had been murdered, and he was magical. It was all a lot to take in, but he did know one thing. His Aunt was right. When he left for that school, he wouldn't be coming back. He was going to find his father and he was going to be the best son that he could ask for.