An owl flew down to the Astronomy tower of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It headed straight for the boy who was sitting there, huddled in his black school cloak that bore, over the left breast, a gold and scarlet emblem depicting a pouncing lion overlaying the Hogwart's crest. The boy turned his sad green eyes to the bird. He wondered, why the unknown owl had come and why now - at Midnight. The owls always came during breakfast.

"Hey, you." The boy greeted the owl, but made no move to take the message it carried. He turned his gaze back to the sky full of shining stars.

The bird clicked its beak. It was evidently displeased to be ignored like this. "Whooot," the owl protested.

"One of them is Sirius, did you know that?" the teenager asked in a pained voice. "The dog star."

The owl tilted its head to the side and peered at the boy with bright amber eyes. Its ‘whooot' carried more emphasis this time, and the bird flapped its brown wings, irritated.

The boy turned his eyes to the owl again, growing equally irritated. "If you don't want to stay with me for a while, you can clear off. I won't take that message anyway."

'What?' the thought flying thought the head of the black-clad man hidden in the shadows had the same shocked intonation as the owl's, "Whooot?"

"It could be a Portkey for all I know," the boy continued heatedly. "Nobody knows I'm here and poof I'm gone and nobody even notices."

The man and the owl's emotions were totally different this time. The secret observer nodded his satisfaction. 'Finally, Harry, at the age of sixteen you've learned to be cautious.' The bird on the other hand grew very affronted and pecked the boy's nose. Hard.

"Ow!" The boy's hand shot out from under his cloak and covered his bleeding nose. "What the hell!"

The owl attacked the exposed hand this time.

"Fine, fine!" shouted the boy furiously. "Give me the stupid message. And do you know what? If it kills me, I really don't give a fuck!"

The man in the shadows nodded again. His suspicions had been confirmed. Harry had come back from the Christmas holiday - the first since he had started at Hogwarts that he had been forced to spend at home - on the verge of a mental breakdown. Evidently, something had happened at Privet Drive that had broken the proverbial camel's back. Severus wasn't a spy for nothing and it didn't take long for him to find the reason of the boy's mental state.

Harry untied the message and Severus noticed that even in his anger he treated the bird gently, careful not to hurt its leg.

Harry read the note out loud, his disbelief growing with each word. "I am Nephele, your new owl. You may want to look up how to take proper care of me." His wounds forgotten, he reached for the bird.

"Hi, Nephele," whispered Harry, stroking her wings gently. A small smile appeared on his face. He got up and scooped the owl in his arms, still staring at it in a daze, and evidently wondering if her appearance was a dream.

A small smile appeared on the hidden man's face. He couldn't reveal his true loyalties or feelings, and he also couldn't replace the boy's godfather. Pets, on the other hand, were fortunately somewhat replaceable.

He watched the boy leave the Astronomy tower. After the door shut behind him, Severus took out his broom. In five minutes he would be at the apparition point outside the gates and near the Forbidden Forest, and in another few seconds, he would be at the Dursleys'. He wouldn't let the murder of Hedwig and his son's pain go unpunished.

Severus and Minerva were in the middle of a discussion about their problematic charges' performance in their respective classes when a knock on the door sounded through Minerva's workroom. Or, Severus frowned, more a banging than a polite knock.

"Come in!" Minerva's tone conveyed that she also was somewhat displeased about the impoliteness.

An angry looking Harry came through the door with Granger and Weasley in his heels. Harry carried Nephele in his arms in the very same manner he had held her last night. Didn't the boy know that owls were to be carried on your hand or shoulder? At least if they weren't stuffed owls.

"Mr. Potter, explain," Minerva's face softened a little. "Whose is the owl? Is it hurt?"

Harry, instead of answering, turned to Granger and made a jerky motion with his head, indicating she should explain. Severus had enough of his son's manners. His knocking resembled a stampeding hippogriff and his behaviour was atrocious. Not that it was entirely Harry's fault, provided who had been raising him. Severus sneered as he remembered the obnoxious, fat Muggle.

"Potter!" he barked, "Greet your teachers when you come to see them. The same for you, Weasley! Five points from Gryffindor for your lack of manners."

"'lo," Harry muttered and Weasley's greeting wasn't much better. Severus seethed.

"You three, get out. Miss Granger may instruct the gentlemen how to behave properly when visiting your superior. Then you may knock again," he pointed his potion-stained finger to the door and glared at them for good measure.

The three of them cleared off quickly and Minerva laughed. "It's rather hilarious to see you playing a gentleman."

Severus leaned to her and said in hurried, urgent whisper, "Potter's owl was killed by his Uncle during Christmas. Try to make him talk about it." He hadn't managed to say more, before a much more timid knock could be heard.

Minerva didn't answer the door. She looked at Severus in shocked stupor, completely speechless.

"You should call them in, Minerva," Severus told her gently, and she did so, absentmindedly.

"Hello, Professors," three voices chorused.

"Hello," Severus responded, whilst Minerva only stared at Harry.

"Professor, we came to see you because of this owl," Granger started, giving herself airs, as usual. Severus noticed that Harry glared at her and hugged Nephele harder. Poor owl. "Harry got her last night and the donor didn't sign the letter."

Severus had to admit Granger had a point. He also had to acknowledge her bravery. She had borne Harry and Weasley's wrath over the Black's broomstick two years ago; yet she didn't hesitate to force Harry to have this anonymous present tested, regardless of facing Harry's strong displeasure. Weasley seemed to be somewhat neutral in this matter.

"I see, Miss Granger. Five points for your good sense," Minerva awarded her House the points back. Severus only rolled his eyes. Harry shot the Head of Gryffindor a betrayed glare. "Fortunately, unlike on a broomstick, there are only a few spells that can be used on an owl. We will be able to check momentarily. Severus, if you'll assist me..."

"Of course," he gave her a small bow and pulled out his wand. Harry's eyes widened and the boy quickly turned around, so that he was shielding the bird with his own body.

"Mr. Potter!" Minerva raised her hands in dismay. "I assure you your owl won't be hurt."

Potter only shook his head, glancing towards the door. Severus didn't want to wait till the boy made a run for it and he said, "Potter, it's abnormally foolish even for you to turn your back to us. I give you my word that... the owl won't be harmed." Damn. He nearly said 'Nephele', but caught himself in time.

Harry turned around slowly, his eyes suspicious. The owl tried to flap its wings, but couldn't.

"Mr. Potter, this is not a proper way to carry an owl, you have to let it sit on our forearm or shoulder freely," Minerva told the boy. He looked at her as if evaluating her honesty and then he put the bird on his forearm. The owl gave Minerva a grateful glance and flapped it wings, smoothing her ruffled feathers.

Severus and Minerva started to cast various spells on the owl and soon they found what Severus had known from the beginning - there were no charms or spells on the bird.

"Congratulations, Harry, to your new owl. Whoever gave it to you meant no harm," Minerva announced the teen and he gave her a small smile. The witch continued, "I haven't seen Hedwig for a long time, did something happen to her?"

Severus thought that Harry would burst into tears. His face wrinkled and he started to blink furiously to stop the tears from falling. Granger quickly put her arm around his shoulder, half hugging him for support. Severus wished he could do the same.

"She died during Christmas holiday," Weasley explained with his usual lack of empathy and Harry's tears started flowing on his cheeks. Severus saw his son to turn around to hide his shame. "Harry doesn't want to say what happened to her," the redhead added.

"I'm sorry, Harry," the Scottish lady said sadly, "it's always so hard to lose a familiar. I hope this new owl brings you as much joy as Hedwig did."

The boy nodded and snivelled loudly and then wiped his snot away with a sleeve of his robes. Severus grimaced. Didn't the boy have a handkerchief? He pulled out his own from his pocket and made a few steps to hand it to his upset son. It proved itself to be a mistake. Harry took a step back and the owl was back in his - rather tight - embrace.

"Potter, robes are not a snot-rag," Severus said in a carefully neutral voice, handing him the handkerchief again. The boy took it, balancing the bird in one hand and it whooted in protest. "And stop maltreating your owl," Severus added a bit sharper.

Harry looked down in alarm. The owl looked at him reproachfully, but she didn't bite him this time. Evidently, the two of them already bonded solidly. Severus frowned. The quickness of the bonding only verified his suspicions about Harry's poor mental state. His holding the owl in the manner an insecure five-year old would hold his teddy bear had indicated something very wrong too. His son needed a Mind-healer's assistance. How to arrange it, though?

"Mr. Potter, Harry, if someone hurt your owl, you can report them and seek retribution," Minerva informed him gently. When the teen only shook his head, she continued, "If someone hurt Hedwig, how will you ensure no other owl will be hurt?"

Harry shook his head again, his eyes on his owl. Nephele was sitting on his forearm once again and let herself to be petted gently with Harry's middle-finger.

Minerva and Severus looked at Granger, but the girl only made an I'm-at-a-loss face and shrugged slightly. The adults shared a helpless look, and Minerva released the students. There really wasn't much to say anymore.

Severus left straight after them; he needed to think before he let Minerva to pester him with questions. And he had an acquaintance to contact.

"Thank you for making time for me so promptly, Scilla," Severus greeted his host, a somewhat plump middle-aged woman who carried strong resemblance to her slightly older sister, Poppy Pomfrey.

"It was about time you showed up, Severus," she chided good-naturedly. "However, as I know you, you didn't come to exchange banalities. Is there a problem?"

Severus loved this about Scilla Sovanir. She was a no-nonsense person, hating idle talk, but always willing to listen endlessly when her patients or friends wanted or needed to talk about their problems. Scilla - like her sister - was a Healer; she specialised on mind healing, though.

Scilla helped Severus immensely; for the first time when he found out what kind of service the Dark Lord required of him. The second time, she probably saved his life - he was a complete mess after Lily's demise, and he might have easily taken his life back then. Sometimes he thought it had been a miracle that he had got up and went on. He didn't 'go on' for far and long, however, as he was taken into custody and sent to Azkaban to wait for his trial. Albus somewhat managed to get him out of the prison after three weeks. It was Scilla, though, who helped him to find a way out of his madness again. Now, he hoped, she would work her magic once more - for Harry.

He looked at her fondly as she poured them tea from the omnipresent tea kettle that Severus remembered all too well. "So?" she prompted.

"There's a student of mine," he started a bit lengthily, "a series of bad events have happened to him. I think he's losing it."

She nodded gravely and waited for him to organise his thoughts. Severus knew she was aware of the effort he always had to make when he was supposed to talk about feelings.

"He's fifteen and he has lately lost his godfather, it happened last summer." Severus supposed it wouldn't take long before he revealed the boy's name to her, but he wanted her to stay impartial for at least a little while - which was, for vast majority of people, impossible when confronted with the Boy-Who-Lived idol. "He's been living with his guardians for years; last year I found that he wasn't exactly happy with them. However, only lately I learned they weren't just neglecting him. He has been abused, physically and mentally. It escalated this Christmas when the boy's uncle killed his familiar - an owl - before his eyes."

Severus paused and rubbed his eyes. He didn't feel like describing the horrible act. The screeching of the maltreated bird, his son's desperate screaming that turned into a helpless sobbing when the delicate owl's life evaporated.

"The Muggle tortured the bird and then snapped her neck. He laughed when Harry cried and he tossed the dead body to him as a bone to a dog, saying he could play with her now that she's silent. The man could join the most vicious Death-Eaters any day." Severus said heavily. It was nauseating to remember. The Muggle's cruel laugh over Harry's pain. Severus gritted his fists.

"Harry told you what happened?" Scilla asked and Severus belatedly realised he had used his son's name. The slip wasn't important in this case; but he still felt angry with himself. He was a spy and he couldn't afford slipping like that.

"No, he doesn't talk to anyone. I went to see the Muggles and I used Legilimency on them." Severus admitted shamelessly. He used a few other spells on them, too.

"The abused children usually don't talk about traumatising events." Scilla nodded in understanding. She didn't judge Severus for using mind magic on Muggles - as he knew she wouldn't - she had met too many victims to feel pity for the abusers. "I suppose he's one of your charges. Does he trust you? Does he talk to you about other problems of his?"

"No, no and once again no," Severus said, trying to lighten the situation and failing. "He's in Minerva's house, he doesn't trust me and he doesn't talk to me, if he can help it." He took a deep breath. "We are talking about Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Scilla. I have to keep distant from him, for the safety of both of us."

He watched Scilla closely. She didn't react on the 'bombastic news' at all. She said only, "What do you want from me, then? I thought you wanted a piece of advice on how to deal with the child, how to help him heal. But if you cannot approach Harry or talk to him- . . . I have to admit I'm at a loss what you intend to do and how I may help you."

Severus apologised to her inwardly. He should have known that Scilla would consider Harry just another troubled child, not giving a damn about his celebrity status. He said hesitantly, "Actually, I thought - if you were willing, of course - that we could try to arrange for you to come to Hogwarts to see him. Repeatedly, if possible."

"I'm willing, of course," she agreed immediately. "How do you plan to arrange the meetings? You know how Minerva regards my profession."

Oh, yes, Severus knew how Minerva - and the vast majority of the Wizarding world with her - regarded mind healing. It was more like how they disregarded the mental part of healing; or they outright frowned upon the ideas about psyche being as important as the physical body. The mind healers then were often viewed as charlatans taking advantage of their patients' hard times. In better cases, they were only accused of encouraging wizards to wallow in self-pity and making them soft. Fortunately, Scilla was never one to give a damn about the magical world finding her work useless, peculiar or fraudulent.

"I think I can bypass Minerva and go straight to Albus with this," Severus said pensively. Minerva was a strong woman, believing in the way she herself lived: be strong, be brave, and if you are at your wits end, just grit your teeth and go on. To her defence, Severus had to admit, that there was no hypocrisy in Minerva. This way really worked with her; however, she failed to see that not everyone who adopted her way of dealing with troubles, pain or depression survived.

Scilla nodded and continued, "Very likely, Harry won't want me to help him, too. Abused children are often too hurt to voice their pain. Also, as he's fifteen, we also have to take into account his feelings of shame and false bravado."

She didn't have to explain to Severus. He knew only too well what she was talking about. He remembered clearly the illogical shame he had felt over the fact that his Muggle father kept beating him; shame that he - the clever Slytherin - had fallen for nice words and made himself trapped in slavery to a sadistic power-sucker; and shame that he wasn't able to deal with the situation on his own, that he wasn't strong enough. Severus sighed. Fifteen years passed, but things stayed the old same crappy things.

"The first time, I thought, we wouldn't announce to Albus or Minerva at all," Severus explained his vague plan. "You would simply come to visit your sister; I would give Harry detention - actually I already gave him one - and send him to deliver some healing potions to the infirmary in the end of it."

"If he's the same kind of patient as Poppy said you were," Scilla smiled, "he will very probably just flip the potions through the infirmary doors and leave without uttering a single word."

This took only a second to the Slytherin to remedy. "Not if I tell him explicitly to hand it into the hands of Poppy and under no circumstances to leave it with anyone else. And Poppy, of course, would just have to run a small errand at the moment, so Harry will have to wait for her."

"Always the chess champion, Severus, aren't you?" she praised, "I think this could work for the first assessment. When do we make this little plan happen?"

They quickly worked through details and soon Severus was leaving with the task to inform Poppy of the situation and announce the visit of Scilla tomorrow evening. He sighed in relief, and the horrible knot in his stomach melted a little bit. He dared to hope that his son would be whole again.

Oblivious to it, Harry has just been given another gift, intangible, but the best gift Severus was able to give him.

Harry sat on his bed, his thoughts swirling. The lady had said he might feel better again. For a few short moments every now and then Harry believed in her words. And for the rest of eternity he didn't. How could anything get better? Sirius was dead and the hope for a home had gone with him. Forever. Hedwig was dead. Forever. Well, he had Nephele now. Harry glanced at the owl who patiently sat on the footboard of his bed. He slid nearer to her and petted the soft feathers on her head.

He knew he should let Nephele go hunting. Deep down he knew he was behaving ridiculously, keeping her on his arm length, but he couldn't help it. Last night he had let her go. He had regretted it the second she flew out of the dormitory window. He had spent the following four hours standing by the window, cold and crying. He never ever again wanted to feel the horrible acid of fear consuming him. Who knew what could happen to a precious little animal in a wild night, so near to the Forbidden Forrest?

She, that Scilla lady, had said she made her living off helping sad and hurting people. Who knew Pomfrey had a sister? Harry never realised the Hogwarts staff had families too. Everyone had a family, he guessed, only he, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-Alone had none - because he definitely refused to count the Dursleys into that classification. Not anymore. Not ever.

He idly wondered if Snape had a family too. A mother Snape and a father Snape, and a brother or sister Snape, all sitting around a table, scowling around like hawks, exchanging sarcastic cutting remarks above a raw meal. Harry grinned; but his amusement quickly turned bitter. At least they were allowed remarks. The Dursleys never let him comment on anything.

"This can't get any better," Harry told Nephele sadly, resignedly. He didn't have to worry about being overheard by his sleeping roommates. He had cast a silencing charm around his bed, as every night since Christmas. "When the summer comes I have to go back to them. You'll have to stay here in the Owlery."

This thought really hurt. He would be alone for two months. It was near unimaginable.

Now, the two days he had had her, he carried Nephele with him everywhere. He had taken her even to Snape's when he went to serve detention. He had expected Snape to get real nasty about it - after the experience with McGonagall he awaited the worst - but the Potions teacher just glanced at him and told him to sit her on a chair rest and go to scrub cauldrons. Snape even hadn't commented on Harry's glancing at Nephele over his shoulder every half minute. Then Snape let him go after three quarters of an hour of work, sending him to deliver a few phials to the Infirmary. It had been the shortest detention Harry ever served. It was odd.

Maybe if someone was acting really weird, people let him get away with a lot. Harry guessed he was behaving a bit odd. He was past caring, though. He wouldn't risk Nephele's life, whatever McGonagall thought about it. His thoughts drifted back to today's Transfiguration lesson.

"Mr. Potter, what is the meaning of this?" McGonagall asked sternly. "We moved from Animal transformation months ago. Let your owl out of the window."

Harry scooped Nephele into his arms protectively. He knew it wasn't the proper way to carry an owl, but he couldn't help it. He stared at the Transfiguration Professor mutely. He heard some Slytherins snickering. He didn't care. Nephele was safe with him. It was all that mattered.

"Mr. Potter!" the older witch exclaimed in dismay and stepped towards him.

Harry panicked and ran out of the door.

"We're in trouble, aren't we," he told her softly. It was surprising, that McGonagall hadn't come to yell at him yet. He had never skipped a lesson before; he guessed it cost them some points and he would get a detention or two. So what. He found that he didn't care. At all.

Nephele hooted at him softly and turned her head to the window, longingly.

"She said some of them talked to her many times before they felt better." he told the owl. He wondered if the Healer knew that he was sad and hurting too. She hadn't asked. She had probably recognised, though, with her professional eye. Why else would she tell him about her work?

"Why else would she say it was also possible to correspond with her?" he asked no one. Was talking to himself a mark of madness? It was nice of her to offer, really.  Or maybe it wasn't. Being famous - he grimaced at the thought - he could never be sure about sincerity of people trying to help or befriend him. And he certainly couldn't keep a private correspondence with anyone. Owls could be intercepted and they also could be hurt by the interceptor. And of course, his being a shrink case would be all over the first page of the Daily Prophet the very next day.

Harry felt the strongest urge to scoop Nephele to him again. He managed to refrain. Hardly. He suddenly wished he could write the Healer. To explain everything and beg her for a piece of advice. He felt more than a bit ashamed about it immediately. He was sixteen. He was supposed to be independent. He had always been independent, for crying out loud!

Nephele hooted again, a bit impatiently this time.

"I won't let you go alone." Harry sighed when Nephele gave him less than a pleased glance. He thought quickly and offered her a compromise. "We could go to kitchen and have more food for you and then I'll take you to the Astronomy Tower if you promise me you won't fly out of sight."

The owl hooted in agreement. Or at least to Harry it sounded as if her tone was agreeable. Maybe he was really barmy. He talked to animals and pretended they understood him.

Harry was standing there, unable to decide what to do. He really didn't want to maltreat his precious familiar, but he didn't want to risk her flying away and dying either. He had evidently spaced out, and only a sharp nibble on his hand woke him up from his musings.

"Do you understand me? Just a little bit?" He asked and sucked his hand into his mouth.

"Whoot."

Figures. Maybe he could ask McGonagall. She, as an Animagus, should know how much animals and wizards in animal form understood human speech. If McGonagall forgave him for skipping her lesson, that is.

Why was she so angry anyway? Nephele would just sit there with her head under her wing, sleeping. Even Snape didn't mind! Didn't McGonagall like animals? Harry suddenly realised he didn't know the Head of Gryffindor house at all. He didn't know if she had a pet, or kids. She could even have grandchildren, given her age. But what was her age anyway?

"Ow!" This time the other hand - the one that wasn't in Harry's mouth, got bitten. He must have spaced out again. He was barmy. And useless.

He pulled his coat over his pyjamas and took his boots; then he offered Nephele his forearm and left the dormitory silently. He didn't have any problems leaving the common room, the Fat Lady was fast asleep, and she didn't wake up.

In the kitchen, the House-elves were thrilled to have a boarder, even thought it was just an owl. They were, of course, a bit sad when Harry refused all food and sweets.

As Harry promised, he climbed all the stairs up to the top of the Astronomy tower. It was a starry night, black as ink, with the stars gently winking at the growing moon. One of them was Sirius. Harry's eyes filled with tears.

Nephele clapped her beak happily, smelling the fresh air and crispy wind, and started to open her wings.

"Nowhere far, Nephele. Keep just as far as I can see you," Harry reminded her with a hint of desperation.

She took off and circled above the tower. She wasn't as well visible as Hedwig would be against the black sky, but it would do, Harry decided. She playfully flied to him, pretending to attack his head. Missing him just by inches, she flew up again, to repeat the process.

Harry watched her happy flight contentedly for some twenty minutes, when he realised that he was freezing. They should get back to the dormitory and get a few hours of sleep, he decided. He yawned, closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, Nephele was gone.

"Nephele!"

Severus halted. Did he hear someone calling Harry's owl? Good god, if the bird got harmed or killed-

What nonsense. Severus quickly reined in his emotions. He lost himself in his thoughts about Harry and thus imagined hearing the name of Harry's familiar. He certainly couldn't have heard anyone shouting anything at two in the morning. He knew curfew didn't mean much for Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor brats, but even if there were students wandering around, they would be as quiet as mice.

He nodded to himself. He had definitely imagined it. It was a bit surprising that he hadn't imagined throttling Minerva and Albus instead. How damned blind they were!

The worm of doubt remained, though. Better safe than sorry, Severus decided. He pulled out his wand and incanted silently, 'Point me Harry Potter'.

The wand gave a pull to a highly different direction than where Gryffindor tower laid. Severus cursed. Then he cursed again, as a portrait - an aristocratic looking witch - dared to reprimand him.

'Point me Ronald Weasley,' he muttered. Now that was the right direction where Harry should dwell. 'Point me Granger,' he incanted and the wand revealed that the know-it-all was also safely in Gryffindor parts of the castle.

Severus frowned and he quickly recast the search charm for his son. He swiftly walked where his wand indicated. It was the Astronomy Tower. He paled. Harry certainly wouldn't...

He sprinted up the stairs. Scilla's words repeated over and over in his head. Depressed, serious, blocked, dangerous. The words hammered in his temples as he pushed his body to reach the top as soon as possible, or sooner.

Completely out of breath, he flung the door open. He fell to his knees in relief - or was it exhaustion? Harry was still there. Very much alive.

He saw the boy jump in shock. Then, Harry, with his Gryffindor bravery, stepped tentatively forward. "'fessor Snape?" he asked in disbelief.

Severus noticed that his son's face was wet with tears.

"What are you doing here, in the middle of the night?" Severus asked when he caught his breath. He tried to stand; to his displeasure, he had to lean on his hands heavily to shift part of his weight in order to push himself up. As he did so, he suddenly noticed the foolish boy's state of undress and added sharply, "In light shoes and without socks! You must be freezing."

He saw Harry blink owlishly and then look down at his feet, to find that he was indeed clad only in his indoor shoes. "It's cold," he admitted unconcernedly. Then he added, as if it explained all, "Nephele wanted to go out."

"Of course she wanted to go out, she's nocturnal!" Severus retorted, more than a bit peeved.

Harry blinked again. The sharp tone evidently didn't scare him - as Severus had feared it would as soon as the words had left his mouth. Harry looked at him imploringly. "I need you to help me find her."

So now he was a trusted expert on owls, was he? Damn, he should have given Harry a cat. "You need me to help you go inside and unfreeze you, foolish child," Severus said and cast a heating charm at Harry. The boy shuddered, as if he just noticed how cold he had been.

"She flew away," his son explained and new tears were flowing down his face. "I want her back. I want her back now!"

Good Lord. A complete breakdown, Severus thought, horrified. Back to childish talk and falling apart before his enemy. It was worse than he feared, and probably even worse than Scilla thought. He felt a surge of anger at Albus. Master it himself, my ass. Next time he saw Albus, he would stuff him his infernal lemon drops where sun didn't shine.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Harry was alive; that was all that mattered right now. He would take him to his chambers and dose him with a Calming Draught. Then they would talk and Severus would have to decide what steps to take and how much to reveal to his son. Afterwards he would dose Harry with Dreamless Sleep - the black circles under the boy's eyes were alarming - and when Harry woke up, Nephele would undoubtedly be back.

It was a good plan. However, it collided sharply with Harry's unshakeable insistence that he had to stay at the top of the tower and call his owl back. Severus thought quickly. He didn't think that logical arguments would get him far at the moment. He didn't want to force Harry either, as he needed his son to trust him.

"What if she's waiting for you already in Gryffindor tower?" he asked and cringed inwardly. He certainly hadn't just asked such an inane question. There was no chance the poor bird had returned yet. Severus seriously doubted she had been flying since Harry had got her.

The green eyes shifted to him, suddenly pensive. "Would you- Would you go there to check, please?" The odd trust again. As if reading his thoughts, Harry added, "I know that you like owls too."

Well, that was... surprising. "A Slytherin in the Gryffindor common room? Alone? I don't think it's a good idea, Harry." Severus used his son's first name intentionally. People who called you by your first name must be friends, right? If you are reading in Gryffindors' books, of course.

"I'll go and you stay here, then?" Harry improvised, his eyes still searching the sky.

"We will both go. We'll check the Gryffindor tower first and if she's not there, then we'll go through other possible places," Severus said persuasively, trying to implant the certainty that he was the one who was able to help Harry to find Nephele.

"No, no, no." Harry shook his head fiercely. "We must stay here."

Severus took a deep breath. If he was able to recognise something, it was a situation where there was no arguing. "All right," he agreed quickly. "There's another way. But Nephele won't like it."

The green eyes were on him immediately. The intense look of utter hope was painful. Severus never again wanted to see his son in that level of despair.

Severus nodded. "I can summon her."

"With accio?" Harry asked. Then he frowned. "Is it dangerous for her?"

"With a very similar spell used for living beings. And no, it won't be dangerous, just uncomfortable and embarrassing. She will be certainly very angry with us both," Severus warned.

Harry hesitated - just very briefly - and then nodded. "Please, do."

Severus summoned the owl, who was indeed as furious as an owl could be. Severus quickly stepped before his son and tried to restrain the bird. It earned him a gash on his cheek and other two bleeding wounds on his hands. Damn it, he should have bought Harry a bunny rabbit.

"Enough," he hissed at the owl and the bird calmed in his arms, with a last displeased click of her beak. Severus handed Nephele to his son, who scooped her into a tight embrace immediately. Severus shot her a smirk. Tit for tat.

"Let's go," he said. The boy nodded and they - finally - started to descend the spiral staircase.

***

Harry didn't pay any attention as to where Severus was leading him and he stepped into Severus' private chambers without batting an eyelid. He kept talking to his owl in a soft murmur, sometimes sounding loving, sometimes gently reproving. Severus rubbed his eyes. This was completely out of his abilities.

Severus gently pushed Harry's shoulder and his son obediently sat into the armchair next to fireplace. Severus lighted the fire. It got Harry's attention. Finally. The boy looked around Severus' living room in surprise, slowly taking in the dimly-lit, monochromatic beige room. In the end, the green eyes turned to Severus inquiringly.

"You and I will have a cup of hot chocolate and a talk now," Severus told him, trying not to sound too harsh. "Stretch out your legs nearer to the fire, you foolish child. I'll be back in a minute."

Severus knew Harry wouldn't be able to leave the quarters even if he tried, and frankly, he didn't expect him to. Before Severus went to prepare the hot beverage, he went to his bathroom to heal his wounds. After using an ointment and one or two spells, he was nearly healed. Tomorrow morning, the wounds would probably be completely gone.

He quickly went to the kitchen, where he pulled out a dry mixture of hot chocolate - a wonderful Muggle invention - and he quickly warmed water with a single tap of his wand.

When he returned to his living room with two steaming cups in his hands, however, he found his son fast asleep.

Harry woke up and with slow, half-conscious movements he stretched out his arm to retrieve his glasses from the bedside table. He hissed in pain as his hand collided with a wall. Harry bolted upright. Where was he?

Suddenly, he realised he could hear the murmur of voices. He got up silently, noticing in the dim light of the room, that Nephele was sleeping in an owl cage. Good, he thought with relief. She can't leave without me knowing.

He carefully tiptoed towards where he saw a blurred shape of a door, trying to ignore the cold stones under his bare feet. Funny, he couldn't remember taking off his shoes last night. Actually, the last thing he remembered was Snape's living room. Snape!

Oh, yes, one of the voices was Snape's. "Albus won't have any of it." Harry heard his Potions teacher say. "He wants the boy to master his problems himself. The old fool refuses to see that the child is drowning."

Harry wondered who the boy could be. There was a real concern in Snape's voice. It was probably someone from Slytherin, then. Draco, Harry guessed. The blond nitwit had been looking really pale this year, now that Harry thought about it. Worried and a bit scared, too. Harry was surprised that Dumbledore didn't want to help Malfoy. He was supposed to be helping everyone, wasn't he?

"What about Minerva?" a woman's voice asked and Harry frowned. Where had he heard this voice?

"She agrees with Albus, just as I expected," Severus answered and Harry wondered why Snape would consult Malfoy with McGonagall. It was no secret that there was no love lost between the prince of Slytherin and the Transfiguration teacher; not as if McGonagall ever actively persecuted Malfoy the way Snape did to Harry.

"So there's no one who would support you in this? Apart from me and Poppy, of course," the woman said, "I mean, there is someone who cares about the boy; you said they gave him a new owl lately."

"Ah, you see, Scilla-" Harry's head snapped up. Scilla. It was the mind healer who was Snape talking to! So, Malfoy was barmy too, Harry grinned. Then his grin faded. There were too many similarities between the blond boy and Harry. The teenager frowned. He didn't want to have anything in common with the blood-purist git.

Snape continued and Harry pricked up his ears. The wizard actually seemed to be embarrassed about something. "Actually, it was I who gave him the owl. It's... complicated." He sighed loudly enough for Harry to hear. "During Christmas, I found I was his father."

"What?" Scilla exclaimed, voicing Harry's stupefaction perfectly. Snape had a son. The greasy bat of Slytherin had a kid! So it all wasn't about Malfoy, after all, Harry realised and he didn't know whether he should feel relieved or disappointed.

"I know it sounds unbelievable. But I made tests. He is my son. There is no doubt." Snape explained. His tone was so complicated that Harry decided not to even try to decipher it.

"But, how did you find out?" Scilla asked, still sounding very stunned. "I mean, he's fifteen!"

Harry's feet were starting to freeze solid, but this was too interesting a conversation to move from his hearing spot. Ron was going to faint!

"I've been experimenting with various mind potions. I'm trying to find a more subtle potion with the qualities of Veritaserum. So far, I've only invented a potion that significantly strengthens latent Seer abilities." Severus explained and Harry had to grin at the evident effort to explain Potions in a comprehensible manner.

"You tested it on yourself?" Scilla said in understanding. Snape probably nodded, because she continued, "And you had a vision about something that had already happened years ago?"

"I dreamed about going to Delphi and a Seer prophesising for me. It was a bunch of verses that I forgot, of course, but it was about a lost son that I considered an enemy, who will come back to me, because- " Snape cut himself off. Then he cleared his throat. "Well, the point is that everything pointed clearly to Potter and so- "

Snape continued to speak, but Harry didn't hear him over the thrumming noise in his ears.

Severus hadn't had a good morning. He hadn't had a good night before this bleak morning to begin with. Tiredly, he rubbed his unshaven face and sighed.

Last night, he had learned from Scilla that Harry was indeed in a strong need of professional attention. It didn't come as a surprise, but it still left Severus unsettled and disturbed.

When he had finally pulled himself together, he had had to go and argue with Albus and Minerva about Harry's needs, and he had lost spectacularly in the - rather heated - discussion. It was clear that if he wanted Harry to get Scilla's help, they would have to either do it in secret at Hogwarts - which Severus could hardly imagine - or Severus would have to 'kidnap' his son out of Albus' care.

Talk about options! Severus thought wearily and sighed again.

Severus didn't want to have an enemy in Albus. He wasn't in a convenient position to make an enemy out of someone so powerful. Damn it.

***

Severus' perception of Albus had gone through many changes. It had begun as a deep feeling of bitterness over Albus' biased treatment of Slytherins and Gryffindors - mainly Severus and Marauders, of course.

The bitterness had changed into contempt during a single short meeting with Albus the night Severus had decided to take a big risk and meet Dumbledore to warn him about the Potters being the Dark Lord's next target. He had wanted to save Lily, and he had said as much to the older wizard. He wasn't prepared to hear Dumbledore's horrible accusations. Of course Severus wanted to save Lily's child as well! When he had said that Lily must go to hiding, Severus automatically counted on her taking her child with her. He was prepared to freely admit he didn't care if Potter died. So what? He was an Auror, he chose fighting as his occupation, so why Severus should care about his safety? Of course, he didn't let Dumbledore know, but the older wizard's accusations cut deep.

The fact that Dumbledore made him pay - by spying - didn't come as a surprise after that. Dumbledore had made it sound as if keeping Potters safe was a favour to Severus - as if it wasn't for Albus' sake as well - to keep one of the two prodigy children safe. And yet, he forced Severus to pay for it. His Good deed was punished. Now, this was the world as Severus knew it.

After Lily's death, the contempt had changed into a feeling grudging gratefulness to Albus when the older man rescued Severus from Azkaban. He knew Dumbledore could have let him rot in the prison if he wanted. In his vulnerability, Severus nearly believed, for a short time, that Albus cared.  Of course, after his mind - with a huge amount of help from Scilla - got into some kind of balance, he saw clearly that Dumbledore neither cared nor had he saved him out of loyalty to one of his secret henchmen. Albus knew he might need Severus later on. He was just a pawn of Albus' machinations.

Many years had come and gone and Severus was still just a pawn on Albus' chessboard. He rarely thought about it anymore, and he didn't feel too bitter over it. He had accepted the truth long ago. He wasn't happy, but it wasn't Albus' fault. Severus hadn't even protested against his renewed role as a spy. Regardless of his feelings towards Albus, Severus knew the Dark Lord had killed Lily and he would do anything to bring him down.

The situation on the chessboard changed, though. At least on Severus' chessboard. A new figure had appeared. All of sudden. A figure of top importance. Severus still didn't understand how it had happened. How the hell could he have a son with Lily if he had never had any intimate relations with her? Severus shook his head to clear his thoughts. He needed to concentrate. How to get help for Harry without getting on the wrong side of Albus?

***

Severus had walked, furious and helpless down from the Headmaster's office. If someone had told him back then that the events of the day were going to go even further downhill, he would have laughed at them. But it did go downhill.

He'd found Harry on the top of the Astronomy tower, half frozen, suffering from a panic attack, and Severus had had to persuade the child to come back inside. Harry had then fallen asleep and Severus had wanted nothing more than to follow his example. Instead, he wrote Scilla to come as soon as possible, and he had desperately tried to think up a plan of how to ensure that his son received counselling sessions without aggravating Albus too much.

***

Finally, Severus decided to sleep on the problem to see if it would look better in the morning, and went to try to catch a wink. The following morning came all too soon, and Severus' only reasonable plan consisted of a faked illness that would place Harry into the infirmary for at least two weeks. He was certain Poppy would easily come up with some nice disease they could use and then her sister might coincidentally come for a short holiday to Hogwarts.  

To Severus' relief, Scilla came by very early, around six a.m. He was glad he would have time to explain the situation before Harry woke up. He briefly described his son's panic attack at the Astronomy tower. He had wanted to explain Albus attitude and offer his only plan, but the talk had sidetracked somehow, and Severus had felt compelled to explain about his and Harry's newfound relationship. Severus knew he would need her advice on how to deliver this problematic piece of information to Harry. Right in the middle of his explanation, however, he heard a surprised gasp from the guest room.

***

"Damn it!" Severus cursed inwardly as he shot out of the armchair and hurried to the guest bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, just as Severus had left it last night in case Harry suffered from a nightmare.

Harry was standing near the door, his face pale, his eyes unseeing. Severus noticed idly that the foolish child was barefoot.

"He's in shock." Severus heard Scilla's assessment from behind him. "Get him a Calming Draught." Severus obeyed. The last thing he saw was Scilla taking his son around his bony shoulders.

Apparently, she had led him into the sitting room, for when Severus got back with the respective phial in his hand, he found Harry sitting limply on the couch. The faraway look in his eyes hadn't changed. Severus quickly fed him the Draught and waited for five seconds.

The green eyes focused and turned towards him. "Is that true?" Severus nodded.

"I'm your..." Harry trailed off. Severus nodded again. "You're sure?" A third nod. Severus was starting to feel as a nodding doll, but he couldn't find anything to say.

"Why don't we discuss it over breakfast?" Scilla asked pleasantly. Severus nodded and went towards the fireplace to order food for three.

"Did you hear what we were talking about before, Harry? About your needing some help to sort everything out?" Scilla asked meanwhile.

The teenager nodded. "Yeah. I just didn't know-  never mind. I think you're right, I- I don't think I'm coping, really. Why doesn't Dumbledore want you to help me?" Severus could hear the trail of betrayal underneath the calm surface. He noted in satisfaction that the Calming Draught had worked well on Harry.

Before Scilla managed to answer Harry's question, the boy started talking again. "I mean, why shouldn't he want to help me?" he mused, "I can't go barmy, he wants me to defeat Voldemort and all."

Scilla gasped and visibly paled.

"Potter!" Severus cleared his throat and continued in much softer voice, "Harry, don't say his name." He raised a hand to stiff his son's protests. "Don't argue with me now, we have more important matters to discuss. Let's move to the table."

The teen calmly stood up and moved to the table. No arguing, no defiance. Severus thought idly that he and Potter might have gotten along much better if he had kept dosing him regularly since his first year. Old habits die hard.

Harry buttered a roll and remarked, " It's great to feel this calm. I don't think I've ever been so calm before. It's... peaceful."

"Your emotions are suppressed and so you can sort facts logically and objectively," Severus explained. Then he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry that you had to learn about... eh...us in this undignified way." He paused, and looked at Scilla helplessly. What now?

"It's really odd," Harry agreed easily, "and to think that if you hadn't experimented with those potions, you would never have found out at all." He paused for a minute and then added, "I suppose you do want me as a son, as you gave me Nephele and you try to help me." The sentence sounded more like a question than observation.

"I do want you." Severus said resolutely. "I wish I had known earlier. Much earlier."

"Yeah," Harry agreed lightly, "I wouldn't have had to grow up at Dursleys. Still, that's strange. I mean, I wasn't aware you knew mum. Even though it's logical. You knew dad and she was his classmate, so you had to have known her."

Severus didn't like the direction this conversation was taking. He certainly didn't want to talk about his feelings concerning Lily or about the lack of intimate relationship that could explain Harry's existence. Then there was also the fact that they had only about two hours, or even less, before the effect of the Calming Draught would start to evaporate. They should use that time well.

"We have to make plans for future," he said. "I want you to get Scilla's support, because I know from my own experience how helpful she can be. We will have to find a way to bypass Dumbledore."

"If I'm your son and a minor, you can decide freely what help I get or not," Harry paused minutely, "Wow, I think that's the Calming Draught speaking, not me."

Scilla laughed and Severus' lips quirked a bit as well. "Indeed," he said dryly. Then his tone turned serious again, "As you know, Harry, I am a double agent. For that we can't reveal our relationship to public, and thus Albus can decide to ignore my wishes on this matter as well." Severus explained gently.

"So, we'll hide it?" Harry asked, his tone disappointed. "Does it mean that you'll continue to be nasty to me in class?"

"I can't recommend this," Scilla stepped into the talk for the first time. "It would be very taxing for a healthy boy of Harry's age to be verbally attacked on a regular basis, even with the knowledge that it's just an act. In the situation we are in, it is absolutely out of question."

Severus noticed how carefully she got around the word 'child', and how resolutely she spoke. He also noticed the grateful expression which appeared on Harry's face. He sighed. "Alright," he said. "That leaves only two options, either we come out with the truth, or we remove you from my Potions class."

"I would prefer the first one. It's not as if I care about Potions," Harry explained and Severus had to suppress a frown, "but I think it would be better if you could support me freely. Also, the spying is dangerous and I don't want to lose you now that I've found you - er, that you found me. I suppose it sounds selfish, but that's how I feel. I think."

Severus' breath caught. This was the first time Harry had clearly revealed his position - he wanted Severus. He wanted him. Severus knew Harry certainly wouldn't say it if he wasn't dosed with the Calming Draught. He was surprised to find that it was exactly what he needed to hear from his son. Now he suddenly knew that, he had the strength to fight world, with Harry and for Harry.

He cleared his throat, "I suppose your stance is understandable, Harry. I will take it into consideration." He would need to talk this through with Scilla later, he decided.

Scilla had another opinion, unfortunately. She wanted to discuss it immediately. "I support Harry's opinion. You should quit spying, Severus, and concentrate on helping Harry. You two need time to get to know each other."

"I don't think Albus will agree," Severus objected. The truth was, Severus wasn't all too sure he wanted to end his dangerous spying mission. It was his way to avenge Lily; his contribution to the war against the Dark Lord. Then again, he realised, healing Harry and training him to the best of his abilities would be as valuable a contribution.

"Do you think he would try to silence you?" Scilla asked. Harry blinked in surprise, and even Severus was surprised by her forthrightness. He knew she had never liked Albus much, but he had never asked why. Maybe he should have.

"Not in the sense that he would try to kill me, no," Severus said, "I think he would rather send me on a distant mission or blackmail me with my past. It was he who got me out of Azkaban, it wouldn't be hard for him to get me back in."

Uneasy silence settled around them. Then Scilla asked hesitantly, "When Harry said Dumbledore expected him to defeat You-Know-Who, you didn't raise any objection, Severus. Do you two really believe that Harry will have to kill the monster?"

Both of them nodded. "It's a prophecy," Harry explained sadly. "He kills me or I kill him."

"Unfortunately, it's true," Severus confirmed unhappily and poured Harry more tea. "I thought up a plan last night, and I think we still can use it, it will buy us some time."

"What plan is that, Severus?" Scilla asked and Severus explained his Harry-in-the-infirmary plan.

Harry frowned and mumbled something about disliking the infirmary, but Scilla nodded. "It should work. I'm confident that Poppy will ensure that we have at least three weeks. It shouldn't be so bad, Harry. I understand that you don't like the infirmary much, but I will be there for you, and Severus will visit." Harry evidently didn't seem coaxed enough for she added, "I'll persuade my sister to allow you to have Nephele with you."

Harry sighed. "I guess it's the best option." Then he added, "You know, I don't feel absolutely calm anymore. More like... kinda fidgety." As if to make his point, he fidgeted. Then he yawned.

"I think you need some rest. It would be better if you fell asleep before the Calming Draught wears off," Severus said as he got up. "Let's get you back to bed, son."

Harry smiled at him and Severus couldn't help but smile back.

"Harry! Get up, son!" He heard his dad shouting, but didn't make any effort to obey. Instead, he snuggled deeper into the warm bed.

"Five minutes, please, Dad," he shouted back, not even bothering to open his eyes. This wish of his was always granted. Every morning. Actually, he had the suspicion that Dad was calling him five minutes early just to allow him to have his five minute lie-in. He grinned to himself.

It was so different to Aunt Petunia's screeching for him to ‘get his lazy ass up and prepare breakfast for dear Duddykins'. It was great to have a dad - a living dad. Of course, it was a blinding shock to learn that James Potter wasn't his dad. It was like learning that you were not who you thought you were.  A complete loss of identity. Harry had been told so many times in the past that he was practically James reincarnate, and then, all of a sudden, he had learned that he was the son of his least favourite Professor. Talk about a surprise!

At first, when he was still strongly dosed with Calming Draught, Harry had felt alright with the idea. But later, when his feelings and ruffled emotions were restored to him, he felt like he was bursting with fury. He looked like James Potter. He was a great Seeker, like James Potter. He was a night wanderer and a prankster and always disobeying rules. Exactly like James Potter. Hell, James had given up his life for Harry, and you wouldn't die for somebody else's child, would you?

He screamed at Snape to give him some proof. A piece of evidence. Snape - calmly - brewed a paternity potion. Positive. Not believing the results, Harry accused him of cheating. Snape pressed his slim lips together and left, returning a few minutes later with three potions books. He ordered Harry to study the paternity potion which Snape had brewed earlier. He then patiently re-brewed it with Harry's assistance. The result of the potion was the same. After adding seven drops of Harry's blood, the unmistakeable face of a younger Severus Snape appeared above the cauldron.

"Five minutes up! You have a visitor, Harry." This time, Severus' voice was softer. Harry opened his eyes sleepily. His father was standing in the door to Harry's room. "You should hurry up."

"Who is it?" Harry asked curiously. Upon hearing that it was Mrs. Weasley visiting, he got up quickly. He hadn't seen the Weasley matriarch for more than a month. He really hoped that Ron had cooled down by now and wanted to be his friend again!

Harry wasn't the only one who had had problems with accepting Snape as his father. Ron went ballistic when he learned this bit of information. Harry hadn't expected his friends to be thrilled over the fact that he was a Snape and that he was temporarily leaving Hogwarts, but he wasn't prepared to hear Ron's hateful crap. Hermione's reaction wasn't so strong, but Harry didn't hear her words over Ron's shouting, over the drumming in his ears and over the immense effort not to let his tears drop. He turned on his heel and shot out of the room - the Gryffindor boys' dormitory - and hadn't seen his friends since.

He knew he hadn't lost Hermione - she had written him a letter soon afterwards, saying she hadn't befriended him for being a Potter, so there was no point in changing their friendship when he stopped being one.

Harry smiled gently at the memory as he hurried down the stairs. The truth was; he fancied Hermione. He had only realised it here, in Severus' - no, their - house.  He had spent a lot of time trying to figure out why he felt the way he felt, and what he should and shouldn't do in the future. Harry had quickly realised that the only way to survive the war was to copy Hermione - to start working diligently and learn anything that might be able to help him. During the soul-searching, he had also realised how dear she was to him.

Harry shot into the living room and smiled. "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley."

She gave him a hug and complimented him on how much better he looked after two months in Severus' care. As Harry poured her tea and offered food, he gained another compliment; this time about his wonderful manners. He blushed and decided not to confess that he just imitated Severus' mannerisms around Scilla.

Harry ate a hearty breakfast and listened to Molly Weasley's happy chatter. He limited himself to an occasional nod or smile, which was evidently all right with the talkative witch.

"We - Arthur and I - went to see the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match," a smile, "to see the twins and Ginny fly," another smile, "and well, also because of safety." A nod. "Ginny was playing wonderfully," a smile, "but my heart nearly stopped at least four times!" A grin. "Who creates such dangerous manoeuvres, I ask you?" A noncommittal shrug." And so on and so forth.

Harry loved listening about Quidditch, and the stories about Arthur's newest Muggle utensils were as amusing as the twins' latest escapades. Still, what Harry wanted to hear most of all was that Ron had come to his senses and wanted Harry as his best friend again. He didn't know how to ask, though.

As if on cue, Severus used the pause created by Mrs. Weasley taking a sip of her tea to ask, "As we plan to get back to Hogwarts after the Easter holiday, I would like to inquire about your youngest son. I was told Harry and Ronald had some kind of altercation."

Harry blushed. He felt stupid that his dad had had to ask instead of him. Nevertheless, his eyes turned to Mrs. Weasley hopefully.

She shook her head mournfully. "I'm ashamed to admit that Ron still accuses Harry of cheating and lying. Arthur and I have talked to him at length, but he remains mulish on the matter. I really don't understand what's got into him; it's not as if Harry could have known!"

Harry hung his head sadly. That was it, then. When he got back to Hogwarts, he would have only Hermione as a friend. He didn't have many hopes about the rest of his Gryffindor classmates. Every time anything happened - him being discovered as a Parselmouth, for example - they readily turned their backs on him. All apart from Hermione. She had always stayed open minded and supportive. Would she stay as his friend, though? She was dating Ron, and if Harry and Ron didn't spend time together, Harry wouldn't be spending much time with Hermione either. He feared that they would drift apart; their friendship ending without rows or hurt feelings, just simply vanishing into nothingness.

"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked warily. He tried to smile reassuringly at her, but he probably failed. "Harry, I'm sure Ron will change his opinion soon. Most people's reactions were exaggerated straight after reading the Quibbler article, but they eventually cooled down and thought it through. We will talk to Ron, and-"

"I appreciate your support dearly, Molly, and I know Harry does too," Severus cut in, and Harry nodded in agreement. He did appreciate it. "However," Severus continued, "I don't think it wise to order your son to be friends with Harry. Support must be given freely, not under pressure. It would do more harm than good."

Mrs. Weasley looked at a loss. She considered the matter for a minute before nodding. "You're right, Severus. Even so, I'm angry with Ron and I won't hide it. We didn't raise our children to hate. That wouldn't do. And we are not only ones who aren't pleased with Ron's behaviour, Harry dear." She then added with a malicious gleam to her eyes, "Ron has been complaining that Hermione has yelled at him repeatedly and that they haven't been on speaking terms for a few weeks."

Harry's head shot up. Maybe he wouldn't lose Hermione after all. He had better get well soon so that he could see her again. He knew that their return to Hogwarts was dependant on his mental state. Harry was still taking ever decreasing doses of the Calming Draught daily. Soon, he would be clean.

Mrs. Weasley left soon afterwards, and Harry continued with his daily regime. He was already late for his studying period. His dad had insisted that Harry must try to keep up at least in the theoretical part of his subjects, telling him that he should work everyday from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Then, after lunch, he was free to do whatever he saw fit for about two hours. Scilla came after that to talk to him, and sometimes to his dad also.

Harry and his dad often prepared dinner together - other meals, Severus prepared alone -Scilla sometimes either joined them for their meal, but mostly she left for her home after she had finished her session with them. After dinner Harry and Severus would read in the living room. Harry had kept his promise to himself and read books about Defence Against the Dark Arts that Dad had helped him to choose from his library. They usually retired around ten.

Harry opened his Transfiguration schoolbook, but he couldn't concentrate. Every time he tried to read an article on metal transformation, his thoughts would drift to Ron and the rest of his housemates.

After Christmas, when he was lying in the Infirmary pretending to suffer from spattergroit - a nasty, potentially fatal and highly contagious illness - Harry had felt really awful. He still shuddered when he remembered the horrible anxiety he had suffered from, and the suffocating guilt that had been his inseparable companion back then...

Harry still felt betrayed that Dumbledore hadn't wanted him to get Scilla's help. Harry felt that without her assistance, he wouldn't have made it through intact. Stupid Dumbledore!

The more Harry talked to Severus, the more he realised to what extent the old wizard was manipulating his life. He had never thought much about why Dumbledore had never checked on him at the Dursleys, not before Hogwarts and not afterwards, or why Dumbledore had never been there when Harry was in danger. The meddler wanted to shape him into a chess figure of his own liking.

Harry was positively starting to detest the old wizard. If it weren't for his love of the Weasleys and of Hermione, he would be tempted to leave the British Wizarding World entirely and let Dumbledore deal with Voldemort by himself.

"How is it going today?" Dad asked when he came for his usual midmorning check up. Harry looked down at the very same page of the book he had started with and then at the empty parchment.

"I spaced out," he admitted sheepishly. Then, in effort to avoid admonishment - however mild Dad might make it these days - he added, "I guess I'm really worried about my friends' reactions."

Severus sat down beside him and watched him pensively. "Ronald's reaction specifically, or the attitude of your classmates generally?"

"I realised I care about Hermione's friendship more than I do about Ron's," Harry confessed his latest discovery, and blushed slightly. "Maybe I will try to get closer with Neville, too. He's an alright bloke, whatever you may think about his Potions skills." Harry defended his shy friend in advance. "I think he may understand some things better than Ron," he added, and his thoughts drifted to the two heartbreaking individuals in St. Mungo's Hospital.

Severus nodded empathetically. "Ronald has successfully lived through many risky ventures, but he never lived through tragic consequences. That is a rather dangerous combination. I hope you will learn deliberation and patience from Mr. Longbottom."

Harry blinked at his dad in surprise. He never thought Dad would say anything nice about Neville. "Why do you think Neville's patient?"

"He couldn't be a good Herbologist if he weren't patient," Severus explained and then added more firmly, "However; you're supposed to study in the mornings and let your musings wait for the afternoons."

So, Harry hadn't escaped the admonishment after all. "I'm sorry," he mumbled and watched his dad nod at him and leave the room. He focused on the Transfiguration book, or, at least, he tried to...

He had still managed to best Dumbledore. Harry snickered to himself. It was he who suggested they published their 'secret' in the Quibbler, instead of announcing it to the Headmaster and asking him for permission to make the information public. It also solved the dilemma about Severus' work as a spy. With Severus' blessing, Harry had contacted Mr. Lovegood via Scilla and an article was then printed about the mysterious discovery of Harry's parentage thanks to a herd of azure sroulivas.

Of course, people wouldn't take the article too seriously, if only for the fact that nobody had ever heard about sroulivas, azure or not. However, Severus had added a wonderful performance following his ‘discovery' of the article to make it believable. Scilla had recounted this to Harry in the Infirmary later the same day. If only Harry could have been there to see it!

***

Severus was reading the Daily Prophet as usual, sipping his second cup of tea, and ignoring murmuring and giggling of his female colleagues.

"Severus, read this." Minerva McGonagall thrust the Quibbler into his hands, pointing her long finger to a huge title saying, "Scroulivas reveal: Harry Potter is the son of Severus Snape".

 "What the hell!" Severus shouted in fury. All students jumped and turned their eyes towards him. The Potions master then marched out of the Great Hall like a god of Revenge, the crumpled Quibbler gripped in his hand, his cloak flaring wildly behind him. Everyone quickly found some other student who had the Quibbler, so that they could read what the bombshell that had set Snape off was.

Not much later, Ministry officials came to the school, acting all important and superior. By lunch, everyone knew that they had insisted on making three different paternity tests - a charm and two potions - testing Snape and Harry for a biological relationship. All of them were positive.

At dinner, the big news was spread around that Snape and Potter had vanished from Hogwarts, leaving a mass of shocked students, scandalised Professors and irate Ministry officers in their wake.

***

"Not your best day, today, as I can see." Dad's remark shook Harry out of his musings and he wondered guiltily how long the wizard had been there, watching him.

Harry cleared his throat and glanced at the clock on the wall. Oh, hell. "Sorry, Dad."

Dad sat on the same chair that he had previously. "Are you still wondering about the reactions of your classmates?" he asked without any trace of mockery in his voice. Harry liked this Severus Snape - caring and empathic.

"What will your Slytherins think?" Harry asked instead of answering the question. "Will they try to get you?"

"Are you worrying about my safety?" his dad asked, his voice disbelieving.

Harry fidgeted. "I guess," he said with embarrassment. "I know you're much better at duelling then them, but there are a lot more of them if they attack you," Harry explained hastily and blushed.

Severus sighed deeply. He didn't answer immediately, but watched Harry with a pensive expression. "I promise you that I'll watch my back," he said finally. "You have to understand that the potential danger from my Slytherin students - and not all of them have the inclination to blindly follow the Dark Lord - is nothing in comparison to the hateful rivalry amongst the Death-Eaters."

Harry nodded, feeling a bit calmer. He knew his dad would watch his own back; and Harry's back too, most likely. However, it was still so damn hard to find his old careless self. Harry suddenly wondered if he fitted into Gryffindor any more. He didn't want to appear over-anxious, as it might make his dad change their plans for moving back to Hogwarts. "All right, Dad," he said and then added flippantly, "but remember that ‘underestimating an enemy is a way to death.'" The quote was from the ‘Basic Rules of Magical Combat' by Mactus Bellum - the book that he was currently reading in the evenings.

The wizard's lips quirked in a smirk. "Brat! If you weren't so skinny, I would withhold your lunch." Harry grinned. This was another nice change from the Dursleys' loving care. His grin faded, though, when his dad added, "As it is, I will only deny you your free time. After lunch you will catch up with your Transfiguration homework."

Harry groaned, but he didn't protest. As they walked to the dining room, Dad laid his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry smiled. On the reserved man's ‘touching scale' a hand on the shoulder was the equivalent to another person's hearty hug.

***

Harry's studies didn't go any better after lunch, though. It was a pity that Ron had behaved like a dork, he thought.

When Harry was resting in the Infirmary, Severus secretly contacted a few people he knew would put Harry's well-being above Albus' wishes. He had had to be extremely careful, using his Slytherin diplomatic sense to its full potential. Harry envied this trait of his. He knew that he would have acted like a Hippogriff in a china shop in the same situation. Dad had managed to get the Weasley parents on their side, easily - or so he had said. So, why the hell was Ron being so mulish? It was just so annoying!

Harry knew it was useless to go over it again and again, but he couldn't help it.

At three p.m. Harry looked sadly down at his empty parchment - where there were supposed to be numerous notes on metal Transfiguration - packed his things and moved to the living room. Time for therapy.

***

"Hi, Harry," Scilla greeted cheerfully and Harry instinctively got up to greet her. It was then that he realised Mrs. Weasley's praise hadn't been so inaccurate. His behaviour had changed. He hoped that it was for the better. Harry didn't want to become a stiff, Malfoy-like dork, but he didn't want to behave like a nerd either.

"Hi, Scilla," he answered and smiled. He seemed to smile more these days. "Do you want a cup of tea, Scilla? I baked a cake last night, too."

"Yes, please. So, today is D-day, isn't it?" Scilla asked and when Harry's face showed his confusion, she added, "Today Severus finishes the memory potion, doesn't he?"

Harry bit his lower lip. He didn't want to think about this. "Yes, he does." He tried to feign indifference on the topic.

Harry knew that she was observing him. Finally, when Harry was pouring the Earl-Gray, she remarked, "You are not keen to know who tampered with Severus' memories?"

I'm not keen to know the memories, he thought. Aloud, he said with a shrug, "I think it was Dumbledore. Who else would do it?" It was hard to appear casual. He tried to suppress the image of Snape forcing his mum to- No! He wouldn't think about that anymore!

Thankfully, Scilla decided to respect his unvoiced wish and didn't inquire more. She took a piece of the banana chocolate cake instead. "It's delicious. You're really a wonderful cook," she praised, just as Harry had known she would.

A week or two ago they had talked about Harry's cooking duties at the Dursleys. Scilla's guidance had helped Harry realise that he actually liked cooking - especially if he was also allowed to eat the food afterwards, and if Petunia wasn't there to scowl at him, and if he didn't have to listen to Dudley's remarks. Praise helped, too.

"Hello, Scilla," Severus greeted as he stepped into the living room. "What is the theme today? Do you want me to join you?"

"We haven't started on any topic yet," Scilla answered him. "I'm just tasting this wonderful cake. Beside that, we've only mentioned your memory potion."

Harry grinned as he saw Severus grimacing slightly. "The Tottus' Memory Restorative Concoction," he said in his teaching voice. "I've actually just finished brewing. It only needs to simmer for seventy seven minutes before I ingest it."

"And you also believe that you were Obliviated by Dumbledore?" Scilla inquired, playing with her tea cup idly.

"It's a possibility," Severus agreed moderately. "There's no point in guessing. We will know soon enough."

Harry could see that Dad was avoiding the topic like the plague, too. They both held their newly found relationship precious. They didn't need any demons looming over it.

"I would like to discuss the matter of correspondence, Scilla," his dad started on a new topic. Now, this was a topic to Harry's liking! He hadn't been allowed to write to anyone - for safety reasons, mainly - but he hadn't minded much. Now, though... Dad added in explanation to Scilla, "I have the feeling Harry's need to socialise with his friends has risen significantly."

Scilla beamed at Harry and he figured out that it was probably a good thing in her eyes. "Is it a good thing?" he checked.

"I would say it is. In winter, you were all wrapped up in yourself, like a small ball of pain. Your ‘unwrapping' has progressed a long way since then," she explained, smiling at him, evidently pleased with his success. He smiled back. He now realised that he had pushed his friends - and rest of the world, really - away, isolating himself.

They decided that Harry would contact only two people at first. He chose Hermione and Neville; and the three of them planned a safe way to deliver the correspondence. They had just agreed on Scilla Apparating to various public Owleries and sending the letters via paid - and anonymous - owls, when the timer rang. The memory potion was ready.

Dad excused himself, explaining that he would prefer privacy while he regained his memories; he then left for the lab. A few moments later, they saw him come out and climb the stairs. When the door to Dad's room clicked shut, Harry grew anxious.

"Come on; let's think about a way for Hermione to send her letters to you." Scilla tried to distract him with their previous topic of conversation. It didn't work very well. As the time progressed, Harry continued to grow more and more restless. By the time Severus emerged, Harry's nails were completely destroyed and some of them were even bleeding.

His dad descended the stairs slowly and when he entered the room, Harry could see that his eyes were red rimmed. Harry panicked.

"What happened?" He shot out of his armchair.

Severus sat down and motioned for Harry to do the same. "Forgive me if I exclude some of the details," he started. Then he paused and cleared his throat. Harry knew it wasn't easy for him to discuss private matters.

"Lily came to me one evening, she wanted to make peace. We talked and then-" he paused. "Then passion built up in both of us," his pale cheeks coloured, "you'll understand when you are older. In the morning, she said that we could only once step in the holy garden. She Obliviated me and left."

He stood up and went to pour himself a drink. Harry felt so relieved that he thought he might start crying. "So, that's good then. Right?"

Severus downed the drink. "I suppose so," he said dully.

Harry blinked at him in confusion.

It was Scilla who explained his dad's strange behaviour to him. "It's not easy to accept that you will never again receive something you crave." she explained gently. "It is even harder to miss something if you know exactly what it is that you are missing."

Harry remembered the Mirror of Erised, and his devastation when he thought about Hermione drifting away from him and vanishing into nothingness. He nodded.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I love you," he said and his voice broke a bit on the second sentence.

His dad surprised him by giving him a tight hug. "While I have you, Lily is always with me," he murmured into Harry's ear.

Severus knocked on the door of Harry's room. He heard no answer, so he let himself in.

The shower was running - Harry was always cleanly, for a boy, Severus had noticed it long time ago; long before he became his father. It had created an interesting contrast to Harry's far from immaculate clothes. Only later had Severus learned that Harry's love for long, hot showers was founded in his childhood when his guardians forbade him to use anything warmer than ice-cold water.

Severus noticed a letter lying on the table; surely the very letter Nephele had delivered that morning? He quickly skimmed through the text, not bothering to feel guilty over the indiscretion.

Dear Harry,

I'm so excited that your father invited us for the weekend! Mum and Dad are thrilled too, they are very keen to see a Potions lab and also a brewing process. (Don't worry, I've already explained them it was unlikely Professor Snape would let them into his lab when he was working. If ever.)

I can't wait to see you, Harry! I've read through a couple of books that may help improve your defences and I took notes from them, which I'll bring on Saturday. It's so great to be allowed to practise magic during holidays! I'm sure you can't wait for your birthday.

When I was in Diagon Alley for the books, I met Ron. He pretended he didn't see me! He was with Ginny and she was waving at me, but Ron still kept pretending he couldn't see me, and dragged her away. What a nerd! The more I think about it, the more I believe it better than Ron stopped being your friend in winter (I know it hurt!) - but it was better then than in a battle, though. Or imagine if he turned into a second Wormtail!

I was sorry to hear (read) that Professor Snape hasn't been able to determine what means were used to change your appearance yet. I bought a few Charms books as well and I will see what I can find. Why didn't you ask Professor Flitwick for help, anyway?

Nephele seems eager to fly home, so I'll stop here.

Kisses and love,

Hermione

The youngest Weasley boy was indeed a nerd. Severus himself couldn't say he mourned over the loss of Harry's ‘first real' friend. As much as he detested Granger's pushy attitude, Severus felt she was a much better match to Harry's intellect than the Weasley boy ever could be. Not as if they had stayed only friends. Their relationship - or, more exactly, Harry's behaviour in this area - had been a steady source of amusement for Severus in the last few months.

The shower stopped running and Severus carefully moved further from the table. He went to the darker corner of the room and petted Harry's sleeping owl. Nephele cracked one eye half open for a second, before she closed it again. When petted again, she clacked her beak sharply, displeased that she was disturbed, and covered her head with her wing. Severus smirked. Far from being unintentionally maltreated any more, Nephele had grown quite spoiled. Harry's fault of course, not Severus'.

Severus looked around the room - nicely clean - and his eyes fell on a strange round metal bottle. He moved to the shelf to have a closer look at it. It felt cool in his hand. 'Men's Anti-perspirant and Deodorant' it read.

The door opened and Harry stepped in, hair still wet from the shower, clad in his new shirt and pants. Severus looked his son over with approval. Once he had found out what horrible rags Harry had been forced to wear, he had taken him shopping. Severus had promised Harry a free choice and he had been prepared to hold his tongue unless the boy chose something really unacceptable. To his pleasure, Harry's choices were quite conservative and Severus had no problems with any of the items bought.

"It's a... eh... deodorant," Harry said, seeing the tin in his dad's hand, blushing slightly. "It's a Muggle thing."

"Refreshing clean scent," Severus read aloud and Harry nodded. "Wizards have these kind of products too," he informed his son, who shrugged, unconcerned.

Severus knew that both magical and Muggle items were of the same value to Harry. He simply chose what he liked the most, regardless of the world it originated from. Harry's liberal views had caused Severus to marvel again and again. Severus himself always chose items from the magical world, as he had only bad memories linked to Muggles. In his opinion, Albus had risked a lot when he had knowingly left Harry with Muggles who despised him. It was a small miracle that Harry hadn't fallen for the Dark Lords' anti-Muggles doctrine.

"Only for real men?" Severus quoted the tin once again and Harry coloured.

"It's just a catchphrase, all right?" the teenager said defensively and to Severus' further amusement he hurriedly changed topics. "Hermione wrote to me, saying that they would come!"

Severus put on a suitably surprised expression. "All three of them? Very well. Let's start preparing rooms for them."

They lived without house-elves. Severus had refused, as he always had, Albus' offer to lend them a House-elf or two for the summer. He found their hysterical behaviour disconcerting. After all, it was easy to keep a household running with only a couple of clever spells, and Severus quite liked cooking.

Severus watched his refreshingly clean scented son bouncing happily towards the guest rooms and once again he felt amazement over the change Harry had gone through. During six and half months, Harry recovered from a nervous wreck to his old happy, optimistic self. Of course, he was a tad more serious and careful than before, because no one can go through hell and remain unscathed.

"Your birthday is in twelve days, you should start sending invitations," Severus reminded him. Harry's eyes lit up; as they had the first time he had found out that he could have a proper birthday party.

"I've been thinking about it. I'm sure I'll invite Hermione and Neville. And Scilla. And Remus." Here he paused and glanced at his father to see if the older man had any reservations. Getting only a nod of consent, Harry continued, "Then, I would like to invite Weasleys, but Ron won't probably want to come, so it'll be strange," he finished sadly.

"You definitely should invite the Weasley family." Severus would always stay grateful to Molly and Arthur for supporting their relationship and decisions. And then, of course, there were also the five years that Harry practically had been a Weasley. "If Ronald decides to ignore your coming to adulthood, it's his decision."

Harry briefly pondered it and nodded. "All right. Apart from that, I'll invite Hagrid and McGonagall. Do you think I should invite Dumbledore?" The hope that he wouldn't have to was more than clear in his son's voice.

"You should," Severus said, dashing the hope. "It wouldn't be tactical to omit him."

"Maybe he will be too busy to come," Harry said optimistically.

"I wouldn't count on it," Severus said dryly. "Will you help with the cleaning or are you just going stand there watching me working?"

"But, Dad," Harry answered with a whinging quality entering his voice, "without magic I'll end up cleaning something for ages which you could have charmed in a second. I'll cook dinner tonight instead of you," he offered.

"Deal." Severus nodded. "Dinner and all meals tomorrow, including washing the dishes." He raised an eyebrow to hush any protest. "Let me remind you that the Grangers are your guests."

"Okay. But I choose what I cook!" Harry grinned at him. Severus just rolled his eyes. Another round of sausages and mashed potatoes. He would never understand why Harry liked the dish so much.

"No repetition of a dish!" he conditioned. "I hope Miss Granger can appreciate distinguished colours," he told his son and smirked. The whole room was decorated in a dark green pattern, completed with elegant, silver details.

Harry didn't take the bait. "I still feel weird being around Dumbledore," he muttered. "I hate being tactical. He accepted us only 'cause it was tactical and it sucks."

"Gryffindors," Severus complained fondly. He knew Harry had hard time relating to the old wizard - which was completely understandable as Dumbledore had knowingly cost him a decent childhood and would have denied him a newly found father as well. Gryffindors weren't made to take betrayals easily. "I promise you to keep the Headmaster off your back."

"Slytherins!" Harry exclaimed theatrically and grinned at him. "I'll go and write the invitations, then. Do you want anyone else to come?" Severus answered negatively and watched his son caper off.

Severus gave the room the last look over. Everything was dusted and prepared to play host to the little Know-it-all. Well, not so little anymore. He moved next door and repeated the cleaning process in the bigger room, which was suitable for a married couple.

He briefly wondered what it would be like to host two Muggles, and then shrugged it off. They would have a daughter to help with small difficulties, big problems - hopefully - wouldn't occur.

Severus thoughts turned - for about a thousandth time - to betrayals. More specifically, Dumbledore's betrayal of Scilla. She resolutely refused to talk about it, saying that some dirt was better left lying at the bottom of the pond. Grudgingly, Severus realised that he would have to accept that this mystery would remain unresolved to him. He frowned at the idea.

Severus was still frowning when he descended the stairs and stepped into the living room. He lit the fire and allowed himself a shot of whiskey. He then relaxed in his armchair for a while, and when he heard Harry moving about in the kitchen, he got up and went to tell his son to at least add a decent salad to the bland meal.

He stopped in the doorway. Whatever was the boy preparing, it wasn't potatoes. Harry spotted him and grinned.

"Guess what we're having?" he asked, his hand deftly stirring a runny kind of dough. Before Severus could have a guess, Harry exclaimed happily, "Pancakes!"

Severus rolled his eyes. Harry's ridiculous liking of sausages and mashed potatoes was beaten only by sweet foods. "Are you trying to make me reconsider tomorrow's meals?" He asked dryly.

"Of course not, Dad. Despite the fact that-" Harry grinned devilishly, "maybe you should enjoy yourself before the guests come. What if Mrs. Granger decides to reorganise the cupboards?" He grinned wider upon seeing Severus' horrified expression. "Well, Hermione had to inherit it from someone, right?"

Severus groaned and Harry burst out laughing. Severus' breath hitched. The boisterous laugh was the dearest sound he had ever heard. Merlin, Harry had never looked more like Lily than he did now, glamours or not. If only she could have been there to see it.