“Severus,” Remus began, his eyes fixed to the report in his hand. “Why would Lily send you a report of Harry's conception?”

Snape's eyes flared angrily, wishing that the stupid werewolf would just put two and two together. Give it time, thought Severus bitterly. The date will ring a bell eventually, and he'll remember what was reported that night…

Remus was confused. The items made no sense at all. But Remus was determined to figure it out. Lily had sent these things to Snape for a reason, and it was obviously an important one…

He cast his mind back to that time frame … searching his memories that held more significance than the others…

Then it clicked. There had been a meeting that night, on Halloween, and Snape had returned to them in a very foul mood. When asked what the gathering of Deatheaters had entailed, he was reluctant to speak, but eventually told of the horrors performed on the Muggleborn women.

It had been a special ceremony, used to impregnate the ultimate follower and warrior for Voldemort's future use.

Before the Revel had started, Voldemort had apparently cast complicated spells on the women, and made them drink a combination of potions that Snape had unwittingly prepared. The results would imbibe the growing foetus with astonishing power and ability …… so much so that a grown man couldn't handle the sudden influx of power, suffering a magical overload and frying to a crisp.

They knew …… they'd seen some earlier test subjects.

The idea was for Voldemort to perform these final transformations on himself, but when it was discovered that he was unable to live through the whole process, he decided to try it on freshly conceiving offspring.

Remus's mouth dropped open as all the elements slotted into place, making him swivel to face Snape in near on a blind rage. But that wasn't the entire problem. He was stricken by the thought of what Harry really was …… and the fact that he had no idea of it…

Almost as though he read his mind, Snape looked at the ground, in an uncharacteristic display of defeat, and nodded his head saying, “Yes it's true, Remus. I fathered Potter, and he is not human…”

A series of emotion flashed across Remus's face, but he eventually settled on distress and promptly slumped down into the spare chair.

“Oh Lord…” he muttered croakily. “How will we tell him — ”

“We're not,” Snape interrupted sharply, making Remus raise his eyebrows a second before frowning deeply at him. “He is going to remain blissfully ignorant of what he is, and who fathered him. I don't want him knowing about any of it…”

“But, Severus,” Remus began, bewilderedly. “He needs to know what he is … what he was originally intended for. With Voldemort active again, he needs to know the danger. He may even have a minor ability or two already…?”

“That is doubtful, Remus,” Albus interrupted gravely. “Especially considering his condition after Severus brought him back from his Uncle's house — ”

“Condition?” Remus cut in urgently, a sense of panic filling his chest. “What condition? Was he all right? Where is he?”

Dumbledore held up a hand, silencing the werewolf's rushed diatribe.

“Try to calm down please, Remus,” he said quietly. “Harry was recently admitted to the infirmary in a rather critical condition … but, thanks to Madame Pomfrey, he has stabilized and should wake sometime late tomorrow.”

“Could you define “Critical condition” please?” Remus demanded, although there was no spite in his words. Only acute concern.

Sighing in defeat, Albus proceeded to explain the particulars involved in Harry's condition, trying his best to brush over Snape's close call, but only getting to where Harry jumped in front of the potions master, before Remus butted in incredulously.

“What do you mean he jumped in front of you?” he shot out, glaring at Snape as though he was an insect under his boot. “You mean he was shot in your place?!!”

Snape only nodded shortly.

“What, no remark from our witty potions master? Too embarrassed to be saved by two generations of Gryffindors?”

“Shut it werewolf!” Severus snapped heatedly, slamming a fist onto his armrest. “I never asked for him to do it! It was his own Gryffindor stupidity that got him into this mess, so don't go taking your shit out on me!”

Remus was floored. It took a huge amount of aggravation to get the Slytherin to use fowl language, and the fact that he'd done so was saying how much the situation was actually bothering him much more effectively than words could ever convey.

“Will you both calm down?” Dumbledore put in pacifying, looking between the two men with mild irritation. “Remus, Harry is now stable and on the road to recovery, so taking your worry out on Severus will not help him in the slightest. And Severus …… watch your language…” Dumbledore allowed himself a small grin at the brooding man's scowl, before turning serious once more. “Now … it is late, and I dare say it has been a most trying day for all concerned. Go to bed, both of you, and get some rest in preparation for Mr Potter's imminent awakening tomorrow. Remus, you may stay in the teachers quarters for the time being.”

Remus nodded, shooting a death glare at Severus, as he stood from his chair, nodding his farewell to Dumbledore, and striding quickly from the circular office; obviously still ticked at Severus's seeming unappreciativeness of Harry's noble act.

The door slammed shut and Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly, looking up when the headmaster spoke.

“Severus, you really shouldn't resent young Mr Potter so much, considering what he did for you tonight. Especially in light of this new information of you being his — ”

“Don't say it!” Snape cut in viciously. “I'm not and that's final. He's not getting told of it … at least, nothing where I'm involved. You may inform him of his non-human status if you feel it necessary, Albus, but I don't want to be the one to explain anything to him about it…”

Albus looked at the tired and weary man reflectively, seeing the great amount of distress he was actually under, with the news of his parentage to Harry.

“I won't make any promises, Severus,” he answered quietly. “And I refuse to make any large decisions until I've had a descent nights sleep. We can continue this in the morning.”

Sighing, Snape nodded in approval and stood from his chair, quietly bidding the headmaster goodnight, before striding from the room intent on sleeping away his worries …… knowing that he would be unable to do so…

*****

Harry slowly became aware of his surroundings, as he blearily opened his eyes to a haze of white. Squinting, he looked around as best he could, feeling startled as his vision slowly came into focus, even though he wasn't wearing his glasses.

Sitting up abruptly, Harry winced as his body screamed in protest at the movement, remembering in full his last moments of wakefulness. He'd been half conscious and in the arms of a strangely horrified Professor Snape, just after being shot by his Uncle.

Harry shook his head, remembering the incident, but was distracted when, at the motion of his head, a swath of raven hair fell into his now perfect vision. Mouth hanging open, Harry reached up and pulled on the locks gently, feeling confused when he discovered them to be real. Swatting it from his eyes, Harry looked down and saw that his hair had grown considerably, and was just grazing the top of his shoulders.

Looking around however, Harry's mind drifted from his hair and now focused on the room he was occupying. Although the curtains were pulled around his bed, Harry already knew that he had managed to get into the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, before the term had even begun.

He sighed heavily, sitting up further, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his left shoulder. Biting back a gasp, Harry looked down and brought up his hand, gently fingering the bandages covering what he knew would be quite an unsightly mark. He shook his head again, swallowing the lump in his throat as the past month began to surface, pressing unwanted images to the front of his mind.

When he'd first arrived at Privet Drive, it hadn't been any worse than previous years. Just the normal chores ‘till sunset routine, with the threat of Sirius hanging over the Dursley's heads. But after a letter arrived, informing them of the happenings at the Department of Mysteries, along with a piece of news saying Sirius had been killed in the confusion …… everything went from bad to worse.

Uncle Vernon had had him locked in his room for the first week of the holidays, barely giving him any food while making him practically renovate the house and yard, and sending pre-written letters to the Order as requested at the end of term. Hedwig had been unco-operative at first, but Vernon had threatened to shoot her, so reluctantly, his familiar did as she was told.

As he wasn't getting enough food, he became slow with his chores, giving his Uncle every reason he'd been waiting for to dish out those “extra” punishments he'd been dying to give him for years.

Not long after that … Harry shuddered at the thought … Uncle Vernon had decided to throw him back in the cupboard under the stairs, saying how they needed the extra space for Dudley's new birthday presents.

The last week of July, however, was when his Uncle had seen it fit to make him live out in the garden shed, because some bloke was coming for a week on some kind of survey, to see how a “Normal British Family” lived.

Harry remembered clearly, how he was locked in the tin can for most of the day, only being let out in the early morning, to get breakfast ready and clean it up afterwards; and the evening so he could cook dinner … and naturally clean it up afterwards.

On the last night of Mr Phillips's stay, the shed door hadn't been locked so he could clean up the dinner dishes after he'd gone. He remembered trying to smuggle his (now empty) trunk back into the house while the rest of the Dursley's were showing the Muggle out, but in his haste, he'd only succeeded in tipping over one of the unsteady shelving units filled with paints and other liquids, destroying one of Dudley's birthday presents, which happened to be a small pool table that Uncle Vernon had bought himself.

He'd hastily put his trunk back where it was supposed to be, and got back into place before Vernon had stormed into the shed, purple faced and ballooning to double his size with rage. That's when the routine beating had started. Not that it was anything new for him to experience … but nothing had prepared him for seeing Professor Snape materialize before him, with his wand aimed at Uncle Vernon, and apparently rather pissed at the Muggle.

Harry rested his head against the headboard, hating the fact that the Potions Master had turned up when he did. Sure, he'd taken him from his nightmare relatives, but now he knew how he was treated there. And although it was a far cry from the spoiled existence the Professor had dreamed him in, it was the knowledge that he would now undoubtedly rub his abuse in his face that made Harry cringe.

After all … how could he defend the Wizarding world against a psychopathic madman, when he couldn't even defend himself from a mere Muggle?

Harry rubbed at his shoulder unconsciously. But then, he had saved the Professor's life, hadn't he? Surely that had to count for something, right? Even Snape couldn't ignore something as important as that, could he?

Harry shook his head again. Playing what if wouldn't get him anywhere. Leaning to the side slightly, Harry carefully drew a part of his curtains, seeing that the Ward was currently empty. Smiling to himself, he jerked the material and opened the curtains fully, noting that it was probably late afternoon, if the lighting was anything to go by.

Vaguely, Harry wondered what day it was, seeing how he'd been denied his calendar for some time. He looked around, marvelling at how sharp his eyesight was, now that he needed no glasses, but was disappointed to find nothing informing him of the date.

A noise to the side sent Harry's attention that way, only to see Madame Pomfrey walk from her office, no doubt to check up on him for the afternoon. As she spotted him, she seemed to startle slightly, but in a flash, she was back to normal as though nothing abnormal had happened.

“Mr Potter,” she smiled, approaching him quickly. “Nice to see you awake, after the rather precarious condition you arrived in last night.”

“It's nice to be awake, Madame Pomfrey,” Harry answered quietly, keeping his eyes downcast as he spoke to her. He didn't need to look at her, to know just how bad his condition would have been – in what apparently was only – the previous night. Even taking out the obvious injuries his Uncle had bestowed upon him. Looking up, he could see the sympathy she felt for him in her eyes, but chose to ignore it. He didn't deserve it.

“Um … Where is everyone?” he asked, waiting for the Matron to begin her check-up.

Poppy eyed him for a moment, but soon became the Nurse that had treated him so many times over his years at Hogwarts.

“Well, it depends on who you mean when you say, “everyone” Mr Potter. If you're talking about the headmaster, he's currently with Professor Snape and Remus Lupin, in his office. He asked to be informed to minute you awoke, so I'll only be a minute while I fulfil that request.”

Poppy smiled at him as she left, undoubtedly from the astonished look he'd been giving her at his favourite Werewolf's name. Lupin? Here? Harry was at a loss as to why he'd even be anywhere near here, let alone in the headmaster's office.

Poppy emerged from her office again and headed his way.

“The headmaster will be here shortly, Mr Potter,” she told him briskly. “I'll just give you your check-up before he gets here, and see how well you've been healing…”

Harry nodded absently, used to the Matron's behaviour by now. He sat silently as she poked and prodded, but was curious when she was looking more and more confused, as the examination continued.

“Um … is something wrong, Madame Pomfrey?” he asked tentatively, not wanting to disrupt her concentration.

The nurse didn't reply, and simply motioned for him to remain still, as she gently applied pressure to a section of his ribs.

“Does that hurt at all, Mr Potter?” she asked seriously. Harry shook his head bemusedly. Poppy twisted her lip in visible confusion. Shaking her head, she continued with the exam as though she'd done nothing strange.

After a few minutes, she straightened up, apparently satisfied, though still seeming bewildered by something.

“What?” he asked suddenly, unable to take the Matrons scrutiny any longer. “What's so interesting?”

Poppy looked at him, searchingly, her eyes travelling over him as though looking for something important.

“Mr Potter,” she started with utmost seriousness. “You seem to have made an almost complete and full recovery in one night …”

Harry balked, unable to comprehend the Matron's announcement.

“Excuse me?” he remarked, giving himself a quick once over to see if she was telling the truth. “That's not possible!” But Harry knew he was simply in denial, once he realized that, the pains he'd felt earlier, were only similar to those an overworked athlete might have … not someone who'd received a mighty beating, and a gunshot wound.

“It's remarkable,” Poppy commented, in an awed kind of voice. “And there are no signs of any foreign magic being used during the process …… If I didn't know any better, Mr Potter – I'd say that your natural healing capabilities have increased by about tenfold!” she gushed, almost seeming faint with the realization. “I'm quite sure that if I was to cut you right now, we'd see the wound close and heal before our eyes…”