Snape was gone—vanished into the night.
Watching Snape's figure fade into the darkness, Harry Potter—fifteen years old and certain of so much—had never felt this confused before.
Why—why would Aunt Petunia know Snape? What connection did his mother, Lily, have with him?
If Snape despised him so deeply, why had he left in such a hurry—without a single word about Harry's performance at school?
Harry climbed the stairs, his feet heavy with exhaustion. He sank onto the bed, buried his face in his hands, and fell into deep thought.
A sudden clattering sound interrupted his thoughts.
It was Hedwig. She perched in her cage, fixing him with her large amber eyes while tapping the bars with her claws.
The thought of writing a letter flickered through his mind.
But to whom?
Ron or Hermione? To tell them about Professor Snape and his mother's mysterious past? That was absurd!
Then maybe his godfather, Sirius Black? But with the way Sirius and Snape loathed each other, what could Sirius possibly say?
Harry felt completely lost.
For a moment, he even forgot about Voldemort's return and the terror of watching Jon Hart die before his eyes...
...
A clattering noise echoed from downstairs.
Through the window, Harry saw Uncle Vernon straining to lift Dudley into the back seat of the car.
"I'm taking Dudley to the hospital!" Harry faintly heard him shouting. "I don't trust that blasted man's stuff!"
He started the car, then leaned out of the driver's window.
"Petunia, aren't you coming with me?"
Aunt Petunia looked distracted. After a pause, she said, "I need to stay and tidy up the living room…"
Uncle Vernon looked as if he wanted to argue, but at that moment, Mrs. Figg from next door opened her window and poked her head out.
"Dudley's caught a cold. I'm taking him to the hospital…" Uncle Vernon called quickly with a forced smile.
Mrs. Figg returned a polite smile.
As the sound of the car faded away, Harry took a deep breath, stepped out of his room, and headed downstairs.
He was going to find his aunt—and get some answers.
...
Mrs. Petunia Dursley was sitting in the living room, watching television.
A dreadful sitcom was playing—the kind she normally couldn't stand—but now her eyes were fixed on the screen, though her gaze seemed vacant.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she turned her head.
"Why aren't you in bed yet!" Aunt Petunia snapped.
"I…" Harry stammered. He hesitated, then gathered his courage. "How do you know Snape?"
"I don't know him," Aunt Petunia said coldly.
"If you don't know him, then how do you know his first name?" Harry pressed.
The usual sharpness and superiority faded from Mrs. Dursley's face, replaced by a sickly pallor.
After a moment of silence, she began to speak slowly.
"We lived in Cokeworth, a filthy little town… It sat by a dirty river, with rubbish scattered along the banks. There was an old mill there, with a tall chimney…"
She paused, then added softly, "I… our parents… and Lily…"
It was almost the first time Harry had ever heard her say his mother's name. The only other time was years ago, when she had screamed in anger that Lily was a freak. Otherwise, she had never spoken of her sister.
"There was a lonely little alley in Cokeworth called Spinner's End… The adults said monsters lived there and forbade us from going near it."
"Except Lily. When she was ten, she went there every day. She never listened—and our parents found it endearing… Once, I followed her—and saw her playing with a strange boy."
"Snape?" Harry's voice came out hoarse.
"Yes." Aunt Petunia nodded. "He and Lily were very close. But things between him and me were terrible. Whenever we were together, we'd fight… I called him a monster, and he called me a Muggle."
"Close?" Harry asked, trembling.
"Very close," she said slowly. "They were inseparable—every single day before she turned eleven, and nearly every summer after."
"And then?"
"Then they went to Hog… Hogwarts, your school." Aunt Petunia's voice turned cold. "My foolish little sister even wrote to the school, asking if I could come too… But I'm a respectable person. I wasn't going to that place that only takes in freaks."
"Then what about my mother and Snape—how did they…" Harry stammered.
"I don't know!" Aunt Petunia suddenly shrieked. "When Lily brought that Potter home to meet our parents—your father, the spitting image of you—I couldn't believe it. They actually… My parents were utterly taken with him. They adored that Potter boy…"
"The first time I went to Spinner's End to find Severus, he…" Aunt Petunia abruptly covered her mouth. Her face flushed red, and she looked utterly panicked.
"What about Snape?" Harry demanded.
"You should be in bed!" Aunt Petunia's expression quickly hardened again.
"I want to know what happened next," Harry argued.
"Stop asking questions," she snapped. "Go to bed!"
"What happened?"
"Did you hear me? Go to bed!"
...
Harry Potter lay on his small bed, but sleep would not come.
Aunt Petunia had no reason to lie to him. Given her nature, she couldn't have made up so many details about the wizarding world.
Her words echoed in his mind, and the more he thought about them, the heavier his heart grew.
It felt as though they were eating away at him from the inside. He had always believed his parents were exceptional people. Hagrid, Sirius, and Lupin had told him so countless times.
He had never believed Snape's venomous slander or insults.
But why had no one ever told him these things before? Why had no one ever mentioned the connection between his parents and Snape?