Sunday morning came bright and sunny, which was a welcome break from the rainy and cold winds of the past few days in both Scotland and Amsterdam.  Though Jan and Amy had recommended a few pubs in the area near their hotel on the Spui to find a good full English, Snape wasn't in the mood to deal with hung-over tourists and so they went to the wizarding section of town.  Like its Muggle counterpart, the shops of De Kromweg were almost all closed on Sundays, though that did not stop Harry from slowing down as he passed the quidditch storefront, eyes blinking as he took in the very bright orange robes of the Dutch national quidditch team.  They were in display the window, brilliant orange with touches of black lettering and white trim; and Harry wondered if the team didn't have a bit of an advantage from the sheer visual distraction.

With his hand latched onto the edge of Snape's pocket again, Harry allowed himself to be led down the crooked cobblestones of De Kromweg.  Harry remembered most of the stores from the summer, blushing a bit when he remembered the mess he'd caused at the apothecary.  Snape strode on though, seemingly not remembering Harry's breakdown, or perhaps he wasn't bothered by the memory of it.  Harry tried to discreetly peek down a tiny alleyway that was wedged between a second hand shop and a shoe store, and this time Snape slowed down with a smirk.

"That's De Wallen."  Snape's low voice grumbled in the quiet empty street.  "While it is far more interesting than the Muggle version you found yourself in last summer, I don't believe you'll wish to visit there while still a minor under my care."

There was mostly amusement in Snape's tone, instead of threat, but Harry shook his head fast and kept walking.  He well remembered the lecture in the Dutch hotel room he'd gotten last summer after sneaking out to the Red light district, and he was still embarrassed when he thought about it. Having to stand very close to Snape, held in place by the man's knees, and look down at him while he was told about the worry he'd caused.  And that look of pure disappointment on Snape's face; which was something he didn't ever want to experience again.  A funny thought, Harry pondered with a smirk.  For years he used to regularly annoy the daylights out of Snape, and not be all that bothered by it, as it was just a fact of life.

Rounding the bend of De Kromweg by the garden store, Harry saw that the street opened up a little, stepping down into a small little Dutch plein. Café chairs were scattered throughout the area, loosely surrounding a statue in the centre, in a pattern Harry couldn't identify.  There seemed to be chairs and tables from three different cafes, and Snape chose one at random as he sat.  Beyond the square was a small canal, part of the Amstel that was under heavy anti-muggle charms and protections.

After the waiter had left with their orders, Snape took his notes out and cast a privacy charm over the table.  Harry, who had no other excuse other than the fact that he currently looked like a six year old and simply wanted to, took his new action figures out of his pocket.  He put the wizard and dragon out on the table, his eyes sparkling as he watched them stretch and walk around.  There was a slight twinge of disappointment as he thought of what neat toys he would have had growing up as a wizard, but he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the toys in front of him now. He was six today, he was well justified in playing with them. And Snape didn't have to know that Harry would take the toys back to his dorm with him.

"What horcruxes has the headmaster told you about?"  Snape asked, flipping through one of his pages.

"The diary - that one I destroyed. And he told me about the ring, he showed me the memory of where that came from." 

Morning coffee arrived at the table and Harry fumbled with the sugar packets before Snape snatched them from him and opened them himself. 

"The Gaunt ring, I believe he called it, from the Dark Lord's maternal side."

"Yeah." Harry agreed, stirring milk into his coffee. The waiter had given Snape a raised eyebrow when Harry had asked for the coffee, but Snape's scowl had driven him off.  "The key is one too. You remember the key on his desk? It was lying on top of a picture of some old manor house, the one that...with the graveyard."

Snape removed the dragon from the creamer cup, where it was trying to lap up the milk. He reached over and placed two fingers under Harry's small chin, lifting his head up.

"I was not there that night."

Snape did not break eye contact, letting his protective expression remain unguarded on his face.

"I know." Harry whispered, forcing himself not to think of how hunted he'd felt in the cemetery, hated by people he'd never even met. People who took perverse pleasure in seeing him in pain.

The purple dragon walked over to Harry's hand, nibbling lightly on his finger.  The wizard, whom had been riding the curve of one of the spoons like a surfboard, gave Harry a friendly wave.

"He's narcissistic."  Harry said, drawing himself back into the conversation and changing the topic.  "The ring from his mum's family, the key from his dad's manor house, and the diary was a memory of himself."

"Mmm." Snape considered as the breakfast was set at the table.  "Ms. Benson confirmed yesterday that his favourite number is four.  I do not believe, however, that your scar was an intentionally made horcrux.  Are you able to feel them?"

Harry stabbed his egg, causing the yolk to burst and run through to his small potato bites.

No, I can't feel this one at all.  Harry replied sarcastically, hissing in parseltongue.

"If I wish a sarcastic response, Elliot, I will give it myself."  Snape admonished lightly, causing Harry's jaw to drop.

"Can you understand parseltongue?"

"I can understand you just fine. You've never been able to hide your thoughts."  Snape responded, before taking a bite of his breakfast.  After chewing quickly and swallowing, Snape drew his hair back behind his right ear and pulled a small flesh coloured, worm-like gadget from the crook of his ear.  It was snugly hanging on like a hearing aid, and Harry peered closely at it as Snape held it out.

"Is that the babelfish?" Harry asked eagerly, forgetting for a moment that they were discussing horcruxes and that he was one.  "I didn't know they could translate parseltongue too."

"Yes, and no."  Snape dropped it in his hand, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

"No what?"  Harry asked, not looking up. He jumped when the babelfish wriggled in his hand.

"It understands human languages. I made a few modifications to it."

"What'd you do, soak it in my blood or something?"  Harry snorted distractedly, poking it with his finger. It really did look like a little worm.

"Something like that."  Snape replied, continuing to eat his breakfast.  Harry looked up with a scrunched up face.

"Dad, that's disgusting."

"It was experimental." Snape corrected smugly, before taking the babelfish back and hooking it over his ear again. "And it worked."

"It's still gross. How are you going to get rid of my horcrux part, anyway? Dumbledore said only a few things can destroy them, including basilisk venom. The basilisk bit me in the Chamber of Secrets, and that didn't get rid of my scar, so I'm not sure...oh wait, I stabbed the snake with the Gryffindor's sword, think we could use that to, I don't know, cut the scar off?"

Harry was holding up his fork, which had a bit of sausage and egg on it.  Snape blinked at him, his face blank as his mind temporarily jarred off track at everything that was wrong with what Harry had said.

Snape took a slow swallow of coffee before answering.

"You, Elliot, will be lucky if I ever let you out of my sight again."

Harry stared at him, bewildered.

"You set Lockhart to go down there on his own, and we all know what a fraud he was. I was twelve at the time and Ginny was in trouble. We had to go."  Harry shrugged, using six-year-old simplistic logic.

Snape shook his head and unfolded a piece of parchment from his pocket. 

"I may have a solution for your scar. We still have the matter of the fourth horcrux the Dark Lord purposefully made.  The headmaster has so far been unsuccessful in finding that, though not due to lack of effort."  Snape said dryly, remembering their trip to find the cave in Dover and Harry's seasickness.

"But, we figured it out yesterday. Ms. Benson told us what it was." Harry sounded puzzled at this, rather confused that Snape wasn't following his thought path.  "She said he was his most arrogant after he was made prefect. We've already had something from his families, and something from his self. Dumbledore said Hogwarts was his first home, so the last thing has to be something from school."

Snape was staring at him with a calculating look. The boy's argument made quite a lot of sense, and it was rather logical for the steps that the Dark Lord had taken to ensure his survival, not to mention his ego.

"I have no idea what it would be, but probably something that showed his status."  Harry said as an after thought, licking his fingers to get all the jam off them.  The toast had gone down messily.

Snape, slightly miffed that he hadn't figured out the horcrux first, pretended to stick Harry with the bill out of spite.

.........

Hogsmeade weekends were announced on the common room notice boards and they were much looked forward too.  The chance for a small break before going back to the end of November essay writing was taken advantage of by most in their year, and Harry was determined for this weekend to knock a few items off his list of things to do.   Ron and Hermione, who'd be spending their first Christmas at the Burrow as a couple, were nervously looking forward to Hogsmeade as well.  Christmas shopping this year seemed to have an extra bit of work for everyone, as Harry was determined to get Snape something nice too.

The man had never hinted once to Harry that he'd be getting Harry anything, but Harry didn't mind.  After years of not getting presents, it was nice to get something for someone just for the sake of seeing their pleased expressions once they opened the gift.  Heavens knew the Dursleys had never cared for anything Harry had made.  At least, Harry hoped that Snape would be pleased with his present, as it would take Harry quite a while to make.

As they ate breakfast hurriedly in the Great Hall that morning, some students were snowed on as the owls descended en mass upon the students with parcels.  One black owl, which Harry had never seen before, landed in front of him at the table and dropped a small letter off.  Harry looked up towards the staff table and was not surprised to not see Snape there.  Snape had gone to a meeting with the Death Eaters the night before, and Professor McGonagall had assured him late last night that though Snape was fine, he'd be resting and speaking with the Order for the remainder of the morning. 

Harry hesitantly opened the letter and couldn't help the grin that accompanied his small snort at the contents.  There was a 4 galleon bank draft in the note, for use at any shop in the village, and instructions for its exact use.

You are to purchase new undergarments and toiletries as needed. I require one pound of milk chocolate from Honeyduke's.

Keep vigilant while off school grounds,

Pr S   

S.Sn

 Dad.

Harry smiled at the signature; it looked like Snape didn't know how he was supposed to mark it.  He didn't mind Harry calling him dad, but the written form seemed much more permanent. Hermione nudged for him to finish his coffee, which Harry did while still staring at the note.  Dad. There it was, on paper.  As a child he'd longed for anything from his parents, even an old note with his name on it, just to prove their connection and know that he belonged to someone.  Now he had it, and even though it Snape was not his real father, Harry figured James Potter would be all right with Snape raising him.  Snape had known and done more to raise Harry for longer than either James or Lily had, and in the past few months Harry had felt more cared for than ever before.

"Is that a note from him?"  Hermione asked, nodding towards it.

"Yeah."  Harry smiled, realizing that the note appeared blank to her. He shoved the bank draft in his pocket, crumpling it, and grabbed a sticky bun to go.

.....

On Friday evenings a schedule had been worked out between the three. They'd all leave Gryffindor Tower together and head towards the Room of Requirement. It looked like they were spending the evenings hanging out, but in reality, Harry would floo to Snape's flat first, and then his other two friends would spend the evening on a date. Sometimes they'd go down to the kitchens, sometimes they'd be in the library, and sometimes they'd use the Room of Requirement to provide a different place setting.  Harry never asked what went on during these dates, but he did enjoy teasing Ron about it.

They hadn't gone the night before, because Snape had requested Harry come visit after his Hogsmeade trip, due to the death eater meeting.

On the way up to the floo in the Room of Requirement, Harry stopped them on the third floor near the trophy room.

"Ron, didn't you have to clean a trophy with Tom Riddle's name on it before?"  Harry asked, skipping over the quidditch cups and house awards. 

"Yeah, the stupid award for special services to the school. I belched slugs all over it in second year." 

Harry snorted at the image, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm surprised you didn't put anyone's eye out with your wand that year, Ron." Hermione said.

"He was defending your honour against Malfoy though, even then you were his girl."  Harry pointed out, grinning as Hermione's blush began to turn the same colour as Ron's.

"Shut up, Harry." Ron grumbled, pointing out the award.

Nothing looked different about it, it was slightly tarnished and had a few names carved into it from the years it had been in use.  Harry's eyes glazed over; he had no way of testing for horcruxes, indeed Dumbledore had not even explained much of what they entailed, but somehow he knew that wasn't it.  They walked further around the room, Harry trailing his fingers along the glass and wondering when Filch would find the fingerprints he'd left. Rounding the little dark corner where the NEWT awards were, Harry stopped suddenly and stared at the lower shelf. There, slightly in the shadows of the bigger Head Boy Award, were several small plaques with house crests. It seemed that there was an award for the highest matriculation scores for prefects of the school, and Harry saw the name Riddle on the Slytherin plaque.  A badge was pinned to the knotted wood, and the brass nameplate had been dutifully shined like the rest of the room.

Harry leaned in and inspected it through the glass, noting that the badge looked like it had been added on after the nameplate was set, and that it didn't match the style of the other house crests.

"Did Percy ever give his prefect badge back?" Harry asked, staring at the worn Slytherin crest.

"No." Ron answered, staring at the same plaque. "He keeps it in his secret toy box with his baby blanket. He'll never give it up."

"That looks like a prefect badge, not a crest." Harry commented, crouching a little to get a closer look."

"It's portable, too."  Hermione stated, standing beside Harry.

"It'd have to be wouldn't it? For when he, you know, made it."  Ron gulped.

They all stared at it for a moment before shuffling towards the door.

"All these years and it's just been sitting there in the display case." Hermione said, her voice trailing off.

"The last horcrux possessed Ginny and set a huge snake on me. Can't wait to see what this one does."  Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"You're starting to spend too much time with Snape, mate." Ron pushed him out into the hall.

.....

Harry landed almost upright this time as he staggered out of the flames, hopping on one foot a few feet across the hearth before spreading his arms out and gaining balance. Hah, he thought triumphantly, ignoring Snape's amused look from the corner desk.

"Do you want your change back?" Harry asked, putting the block of chocolate on the kitchenette counter.

"You didn't spend it all? What an honest boy I have." Snape intoned, the corner of his lip twitching. "Did you at least buy what you were told?"

"Yesssss." Harry drew out his last syllable, sounding like an exasperated child. "Underpants, shampoo, new socks." He lifted his trouser legs with flourish, showing off his feet.

"Matching socks?" Snape raised his eyebrow in disbelief and placed his hand on his chest. "Be still my heart."

Harry, feeling every bit as mature a 16 year old as he was, stuck his tongue out at Snape.

"Why is it that you are normally incapable of matching those? Were you dropped on your head as a toddler?" Snape asked, snapping his ledger book shut and standing up with a subtle stretch.

"Probably. " Harry reflected, thinking of how his Aunt Petunia had treated him as a child. "But no. I was the sock monster at the Dursley's."

Snape raised his eyebrow in a questioning look.

"You know how soft and nice socks feel when you first get them? Well Dudley always got new socks and I got the hand me downs. But when a sock went missing, he just shoved them aside because they didn't match.  They hadn't really gone missing, I just took one out of almost every load.  I couldn't wear them in pairs though, because then Aunt Petunia would have noticed."

"Your aunt never questioned why socks went missing?" Snape asked, nodding at Harry to go out into the entryway.

"Well, no." Harry shrugged, following him out and ducking under the menacing coat rack.  "Have you ever seen a muggle washing machine and dryer? It's common knowledge that dryers steal socks.  I just helped with its task."

Snape looked bothered by this revelation, but he didn't voice his displeasure to Harry.

"That does not explain why you keep stealing my old shirts when you sleep here. And I think that is my old jumper you're wearing, you little thief."  Snape pointed out, picking a bag up off the floor.

"Some hand me downs I don't mind." Harry answered with a small smile, before changing the topic.  "Are we going out?"

"We are." Snape confirmed, pulling his boots on.  He was wearing his regular teaching robes, which Harry supposed were partially worn to maintain his strict professor demeanor.  Harry had seen his dad regularly during the summer wearing just casual slacks and a more modern dress shirt, and thought that look was much better for Snape. He made a much classier muggle than Uncle Vernon ever did, and Harry figured that the imposing teachers robes were for safety in the potions classroom and to appear stark and unapproachable to students and staff.

"We are going to harvest basilisk venom, and I believe we shall find it in the Chamber of Secrets."

There was no mistaking the excited gleam in Snape's eyes, though his statement had come through more like an order.

"I think you might be right." Harry grinned. "By the way, I think I've figured out the last horcrux."

Harry quietly relayed to Snape their discovery in the trophy room during the walk to Myrtle's washroom. Harry, who was hidden under the invisibility cloak Snape had demanded he carry with him at all times, smirked to himself as Snape drew a sharp breath in protest.  They'd reached Myrtle's bathroom and though the sign said it was still out of order, Snape was obviously hesitant to enter.

Harry wasn't, however, and knowing that no one else was in the corridor he swung the door open and walked right in.

Myrtle was splashing about in one of the toilets, singing an old tune to herself in a very off-key tone.   Harry ignored her and folded up his cloak, shoving it back into one of his expanded trouser pockets.

Snape grimaced at the singing, before crossing his arms and regarding Harry.

"Just how many times have you entered this washroom? I'm almost afraid to know how you discovered the chamber here."

Myrtle, hearing Snape's deep voice, rose out of the stall and gave them a haughty look.

"Tsk tsk. This is the girls' bathroom, seems like none of you boys know how to read."  She had her arms crossed as well and out of the corner of his eyes Harry saw her pigtails bobbing as she shook her head. 

"Oh it's you. I thought you'd abandoned me, or have you come back to insult me again?" She looked petulant and Harry continued to run his fingers along the sink taps, looking for the snake carving.

"I've never insulted you, Myrtle."  Harry responded calmly. He did not want to make any promise about coming back to visit her again, lest she decided to surprise him in the bath once more.

"Don't go in there, Myrtle's in there uglying the place up. Spotty Myrtle with the blemished face, Myrtle the girl with bug eyes, she'll drive you crazy with her horrid voice. I know what people say about me." Myrtle ranted, seemingly not to be deterred now that she had an audience.  Most of the insults were rather lame, but Harry suspected that kids in the 1940's had been a little less verbally vicious than they were now.

Snape, on the other hand, had probably never felt the urge to hold back.

"Your hearing's damn near perfect."  He complimented idly, causing her to sputter.  She left with an undignified wail, speeding through the pipes and heading in the general direction of the Hufflepuff dorms.

Harry turned so Snape couldn't see him grinning, and hissed at the tap to open.

"Thanks for driving her off, she could have gotten me in trouble."  Harry said, feeling a bit reckless.  The tunnel had opened and he felt like it was more an adventure this time than a walk to probable death.

"If you're referring to the illegal batch of polyjuice potion you brewed in here with Miss Granger, I am already very aware of that incident." Snape responded sternly, a tone that clashed with the excited curiosity on his face as he inspected the walls of the tunnel opening.

"How did you hear about that? We didn't even tell Dumbledore that one." Harry stepped towards the edge and toed the smooth ridge with his foot.  He hated this part, he assumed that this was how it felt to be on a rollercoaster as well, about to take the big drop. 90% nerves, 10% anticipation.

"Spare me the innocent protestations. Granger spent four weeks in the infirmary looking like a cat and the only ingredients stol- POTTER!"  Snape reached out to grasp Harry as he jumped, but missed completely and Harry disappeared into the darkness.  This time, knowing what was coming, Harry laughed as he slid and twisted down the pipes.

Snape was a bit less receptive to the ride, Harry reflected, as he listened to the litany of curses and dark words preceding the man down the tunnel.  Snape landed with a grunt and Harry was amused to hear Snape scourgify himself before Harry could even cast a lumos.

"Come on Dad, where's your sense of adventure?" Harry grinned cheekily as he stomped through the rat skeletons and down the passage, headed towards the Chamber door.

Snape halted his process with a tiny gasp though, as they came upon the large shedding of skin that Harry had first seen years ago with Ron and Lockhart.

"We saw Malfoy today."  Harry offered conversationally, watching Snape carefully cut the shed skin into large rectangular pieces.

"He was in Dervish and Banges. Don't know what he'd want to buy there though, they sell second hand stuff, don't they?" Harry hated how he sometimes chattered when he was antsy.

"Some." Snape responded, folding the cuttings gingerly.  He was crouching over the skin, careful not to let his knees down on the wet stone floor.

"Well anyway, I saw some Hufflepuffs leaving there and I noticed him.  I still think Dumbledore's wrong to ignore him."  Harry stated, crossing his arms.  He would have leaned against the rock wall, but he wasn't sure how steady it was after the blast Lockhart had caused.

"While the headmaster often appears to be taking a blind eye to things, you will find that he is actually watching very closely."

"Yeah, that worked so well last year."  Harry sneered to himself, thinking about Sirius.

"Even omnipotent wizards make mistakes." Snape said, narrowing his eyes.  "And while you were noticing Mr. Malfoy, how was your little Hufflepuff friend?"

Snape had just carefully put all the cuttings into his bag and was standing back up.

"I don't have a Hufflepuff friend." Harry stammered, the blush reaching his ears.

Snape rolled his eyes before ticking off points from his finger.

"Just under six feet tall, short brown hair as ridiculously untamed as yours, hearing impaired, has zero interest in quidditch, An artist who spends his free time painting or sculpting, I think it is." Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry, watching him squirm in the shadows.

"Heathcote, right?"  Snape asked, his tone lacking any real barb to it.

"Euan, yeah."  Harry responded, finding his nails suddenly very interesting. "But he's not a friend, I don't really even know him. He's just...interesting." Harry finished, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Interesting. As in, you'd like to chat with him and see what other hobbies and traits he has that make him so...interesting."

Harry could tell Snape was mocking him, but it was almost in a comforting familiar way and he found he didn't mind that much.  It was much more civilized than anything Ron would probably say.

"Yeah, I guess."

"I've also noticed the Slytherin you've been checking out from across the Great Hall during meal times; Miss Darcy Etain."  Snape added, smirking as Harry's stuttering got worse.

"I heard Darcy was good at quidditch, it's purely to check out the competition."  Harry responded, the blush starting to fade only a tiny bit.  They had just reached the chamber entrance and Harry hissed at the door to open.

Snape didn't answer, his snort of disbelief was enough.

"It doesn't matter anyway. I don't think it's a good idea for me to date while the war is still on, I don't have the proper time for it."  Harry said, holding his lit wand out and stepping forward. He attempted to sound confident and mature in his decision, and Snape's calculating look threw him off.

"Perhaps not."  Snape nodded in agreement, and Harry wasn't all that surprised. It wasn't as if Snape was going out every night to find someone, and Harry figured that the war made that next to impossible for him anyway.  Come to think of it, Harry had no idea if Snape had ever dated before.  He must have, but Harry didn't know anything about it and doubted Snape would share.  Was Snape even straight?  He'd not reacted at all about the Hufflepuff boy that Harry had found easy going and nice to chat to in Herbology class.

"You're not bothered by Euan?"  Harry asked, pulling on his shirt as he tried to look anywhere but at the large dead snake at the front of the room.

"He is one of the lesser annoying of that house that I've had the displeasure of meeting." Snape answered, circling the basilisk.

"I meant that he was, you know, a guy."  Harry tried to say smoothly. His cheeks felt like they were on fire.

"Are you familiar with Mr. Ollivander's speech about the wand choosing the wizard?"  Snape asked, putting down his bag.

"Yeah. He made me try a whole bunch of different wands before we found one for me."

"I should think then that you wouldn't be surprised to find it similar for dating.  What was your first thought about Mr. Heathcote?  That you wanted to have sex with him?"

"I, what?! No, I just thought he was interesting to talk to about his art! Jeez, I don't go around thinking about people I want to shag right then and there." Harry replied, wondering how Snape could be so nonchalant while talking about sex.  Harry still blushed when he thought about the books Snape had given him over the summer.

"So not Miss Etain either?"  Snape asked. "No vulgar and depraved teenage fantasies?"

"No! Darcy's good at quidditch, I told you that. She's a bit scary too, I heard she's a good duelist."

Snape nodded at this and Harry fidgeted a little.

"What happened to Miss Weasley?"  Snape asked, reaching into the snake's mouth and breaking off a fang.  Harry shuddered at the sight.

"She's like a sister to me. That's...no. No interest."

"Indeed. So you are choosing people based on commonalities over attractive physical features, which is what you should be doing if you wish to avoid dating someone you'll want to murder after a few short months."  Snape commented, sounding very rational.  Harry still wasn't quite used to this side of Snape, the side that provided rather good advice.

 "So...you don't care that I might date a guy."  Harry asked again, shaking his head slowly.

"You could bring home the muggle Prince Harry and I wouldn't care. Anyone you are interested in will be facing me for an interview of their intentions."

"I'm not a girl, you know."  Harry smiled softly, watching Snape move deftly around the basilisk.

"I am well aware that you're a boy." Snape replied sternly, giving Harry a look that made Harry feel warm inside.  "I am also aware that you're rather naïve and easily distracted, and I want to ensure you're not entranced by some trollop who wants to trade in on your name."

Snape huffed at Harry's snickering before directing Harry to hold his wand light higher and make himself useful.

Snape yanked hard on a fang that seemed to be imbedded, and the snake's head moved a little with the effort. Harry followed the line of the shadow to a darker stain on the floor, and realized that it was his own blood.  Three and a half years gone by, and his blood still marked the floor. A lot had happened in that time, since the eternally long five minutes he'd spent thinking he was going to die there from snakebite.  He'd gained and lost a godfather, watched a fellow student be murdered, unwillfully resurrected Voldemort, and became someone's son.

Three years was not nearly as long as it should have been.

"How do you not have nightmares from this?" Snape muttered, placing a vial next to the neck of the snake and drawing out blood.

"I do." Harry replied, picking up the fang that he stabbed the diary with. It still had a bit of his dried blood on it, mixed with the black ink. He suddenly felt rather queasy.

Snape, his two bags now full of skin, teeth, and the shedding they'd found outside the chamber, looked up and saw Harry hug himself while staring at the fang.  Snape knew that stance, familiar with it now after witnessing a few of Harry's breakdowns during the summer.  A few minutes longer and Harry would most likely be overwhelmed, rightfully so. Snape cursed the Headmaster in his mind, for allowing a twelve year old to fight a creature not even the Ministry of Magic could handle.

"Time to go."  Snape stood, holding out his hand for Harry's. Harry snapped out of his thoughts and glared at Snape.

"I can walk on my own, Dad." Harry said, in a perfect petulant teenager tone.

"Be that as it may, Elliot, I have no idea how you wish to manage that up the slippery tunnel."

Harry's mouth opened and snapped shut as he had no response for that.

"I'll figure it out."  Harry said with determination, leading them out of the damp chamber.

It took only a few minutes to reach the skeleton room again, as Harry called it, and Harry stared at the slimy tunnel they'd descended from.  It looked rather impossible to go up, unless Harry could figure out some sort of sticking charm for his feet.

"I've carried you to bed three times in the last five weeks." Snape pointed out neutrally.

"I was six!" Harry sputtered, his face reddening in embarrassment.  It wasn't quite a valid excuse, as he'd only been physically six and not mentally, which Snape seemed to recognize as well.

"Thank Merlin for that, I'd have put out my back otherwise."  Snape responded dryly, grabbing Harry's shoulders and pushing him forward, facing away from Snape.  "And Hogwarts doesn't cover parental injuries." 

Harry didn't get a chance to respond to that as he felt himself rising up into the air, Snape's hands picking him up from under his arms.  It was much like the staircase incident, but this time much cooler because Harry could see and Snape was bloody flying them out of the tunnel.

"You...but..we..air, you can fly!"  Harry blurted, twisting to check that yes, they were flying fully under Snape's power.

"Stop squirming!" Snape admonished, holding him tighter.  "And if I ever hear you breathe a word about Peter Pan I shall poison you in your sleep."

"Forget Peter Pan, can you teach me how to fly? Please sir? You won't have to get me anything for Christmas, just teach me how to fly."  Harry babbled, sounding more like his six-year-old excited self than the sixteen year old he was.

Snape said nothing, continuing to fly them upward and smirking warmly at the fact that Harry seemed to be ridiculously impressed by his talent.   He didn't notice that in addition to the collections in his bag, Harry had snuck a small fang of the basilisk into his own robe pocket.

...

There was nothing to it. It was nearing the end of November and due to the heavy snow squalls outside the castle all quidditch practises had been postponed. Harry sat in the dormitory on his bed, the map spread out on his rumpled bedcover and the basilisk fang on his dresser.  Hermione sat against his bedpost, smiling as Harry's toy dragon awkwardly ran along the map, pouncing at the name labels that were moving in the corridors.

"That came from a muggle store?" She asked, laughing when the dragon growled at Trelawney's nametag, which was circling its foot.

"Yeah. Snape enchanted it, and the wizard.  Kermit's my favourite though." Harry smiled, twirling his wand in his hand.

"Where'd you get that name anyway? Kermit the dragon."  Ron asked, sprawled out on his own bed. The other boys in their dorm were causing a ruckus down in the common room.

"Must have seen it somewhere." Harry offhandedly said, keeping his face neutral. He had not gotten the name from a children's muppet show that he'd watched as a child a few times. It was just a coincidence.

Hermione gave him an amused look that Harry ignored, his eyes catching a small flicker on the map instead.

"Did you see that? I swear I just saw Fenrir Greyback's name next to the mirror tunnel on the fourth floor."

Ron lifted his head and Hermione leaned forward to scour the map, but none of them could see any name other than regular students wandering around the library.   

"Point me Fenrir Greyback." Harry muttered, tapping his wand on the map. It blurred for a few seconds, confusing the dragon, before coming back into focus and not displaying any sign of change.

"I guess I saw wrong."  Harry said, rubbing his wand against the side of his temple.  "Anyway, the trophy room is clear. I say we go tonight and destroy the horcrux."

Ron stood up and stretched, putting his jumper on over his t-shirt.

"I'm up for it. We'd better not let Snape catch us though."

"Don't you think you should tell him, Harry? Or maybe Professor Dumbledore?"

Hermione was standing again now, folding the map as Harry put Kermit in his bedside table drawer.

"Dumbledore wants me to do this." Harry waved his hand dismissively, pocketing Sirius' penknife. "He wanted me to save the philosopher's stone in first year, and he sent me Fawkes in second year to save Ginny. Why else would he give me the lessons about horcruxes? It's my destiny."  Harry mocked.

Neither Hermione nor Ron could think of an answer for that, so they headed out.  They walked in silence through the halls, Harry nodding at some of the younger students who looked up at him with shock.  Maybe when the war was over he'd get his eyes fixed, cover his scar, and dye his hair so he'd be less easily recognized.

"I still think Snape might kill you."  Ron commented when they'd finally gotten into the trophy room. There was still a full hour to go before curfew.

"He didn't kill me when I was drunk over the summer, I'll probably just get a lecture for this."

"Harry Potter! You were drunk over the summer at Snape's house?" Hermione gasped, her voice low but still echoing in the room. 

"He found me drunk."  Harry corrected, moving over to the cabinet that housed the badge. "In his town, which I didn't know was his. Well, I didn't know he lived there. Anyway. Long story short, I'll never eat onions again."  Harry picked the lock with Sirius' penknife, grateful that it had more attachments on it that worked despite the blade that had been destroyed at the department of mysteries.  He missed the puzzled looks his friends were giving him.

The cabinet suddenly popped open and they all stared inside, waiting for the badge to jump out at them. It didn't move, and Harry felt falsely brave after a moment. He reached in and pulled out the plaque, his finger brushing the bottom corner of the badge.  His finger pulsed, the same strange pulse he'd experienced as a child when he'd accidentally touched the metal prong part of a plug while sticking it into the wall.  He checked his watch and noted that the face hadn't gone red, but that it felt a little warmer than normal. Or perhaps that was his nerves. Hopefully they could destroy the horcrux without the watch signaling Snape. Maybe he could get Snape to turn down the warning a bit the next time he was at Snape's flat.

Harry put the plaque on the floor and Ron and Hermione drew their wands.  The trophy room was lit enough with a few candles for the to see what they were doing, but not bright enough to make it look like someone was in there. Harry pulled the basilisk fang out of his pocket and noticed the prefect pin shudder slightly.  Harry suddenly got a peculiar feeling in his stomach, but they were here now and it would just take a simple stab.

"Harry, are you sure this is a good idea?" Hermione asked, gripping her wand with white knuckles.

"It's been locked in a cabinet for fifty years, Hermione. Its not like Riddle can just pop out it, like the diary, right Harry?"  Ron asked, not sounding as if he believed a word of what he said.

"If this thing comes to life," Harry murmured, holding his hand steady with his grip tight around the fang, "make sure you tell my dad that I thought it'd be best to catch it unawares."

Hermione gave him a nervous look and Ron gasped as Harry lowered the fang over the pin. It started to hiss in a nasty and predatory tone, as if it knew what was coming.  Harry felt a chill as the candlelight flickered and he touched the edge of the crest with the fang. The tiny green snake carved in the centre of the Slytherin crest suddenly flashed black and reared up off the metal, striking with lightning precision at the underside of Harry's palm, near his pinkie finger.

"Fuck!" Harry cursed, slamming the fang down on the crest in panicked force. The plaque emitted an inhumane moan, which Harry heard mixed in with his friends shouting his name.  Images flashed in his mind as his palm pulsed, a tall dark haired boy standing over a body that was sprawled out on the floor, green light flashing, the same dark eyes that had stared hungrily at him before when the memory of Riddle had been released.

His vision flashed back to the trophy room, which was rather blurred and suddenly very warm.  He was dimly aware of Hermione knocking the little metal snake away from his hand with her wand and Ron stunning it. He was dragged back from the smoldering plaque, now cracked right down the centre and the pin destroyed. Harry had a very dry throat suddenly, and his hearing began to fade.  He felt a painful throbbing heat in his arm, but he wasn't quite sure if it was from the snake's bite or the watch, which was most likely flashing bright red now. He found himself hard pressed to care as he slowly slipped into darkness, and heard heavy footsteps running towards them from out in the hallway.  They clicked on the stones, as if the wearer had a pair of boots or dress shoes on.

Ron was right.  Snape was definitely going to kill him.