***1 September, 1991 -10:21pm***

Severus Snape tied his house robe around his waist as he stepped out of his private bathroom. He had hoped that the hot water running down his back would relieve the tension, but it had done no good. He was going to have to resort to stronger methods and he went straight for the fire whiskey.

Severus poured himself two good measures and slammed the carafe on the table with a hard thunk. He downed the liquid courage in a single, hard swallow. The heat that poured down his throat wasn't nearly as satisfying as he had hoped it would be. The normally dour man had considered another…many in fact. All he wanted to do was drown out the memory of that night's Welcoming Feast, but he could not. Severus had to be up early to teach classes the next day. Drinking himself into oblivion was something he could not indulge in.

Instead, Severus sat himself on the worn Chesterfield in front of the fire and did something he had not allowed of himself in ten years. He put his head in his hands and cried.

Ever since the end term in June, Severus had been fretting this day—the day Harry Potter was to begin Hogwarts. He had been preparing himself for it in fact…the day the product of the one girl Severus had ever loved and the bully who had tormented him throughout his adolescence walked through the doors of the Great Hall to begin his magical training.

Yes—Severus had prepared himself. He prepared himself to hate the spoiled, arrogant spawn of James Potter. Severus expected to see the emerald eyes of Lily Evans, his beloved, fixed on Potter's snide face. After all, when the brat was born, Dumbledore had lauded how the boy had Lily's striking eyes and Potter's raven hair.

Severus was prepared for his life to turn upside down. He was prepared to go chasing after the little miscreant every night if need be. He had already planned appropriate and inventive detentions and punishments he was certain he would have to dole out.

Yes—Severus was prepared for the arrival of Harry James Potter…but not like this. When he first set eyes on the dark-haired boy who was too small for his age, wearing glasses too large for his face, Severus knew immediately that things were not as he had been led to believe.

Severus Snape was the Potions Master at Europe's premier school of Witchcraft and Wizardry and a former Death Eater who turned spy for the Light. He was accustomed to the unexpected. But nothing could have prepared him for the blow that he was given tonight. His life was about to be turned upside down, alright…in ways he had never expected. Not when he had taken the Dark Mark…not when he found out that his precious Lily had been targeted for extermination…neither could compare to the cold fear that sat in his belly like solid block of lead at that moment.

For that very night, Severus Snape had realized that he was a father. And he was the father of none other than Harry Potter…The Boy Who Lived.

Severus considered pouring another finger of fire whiskey, after all, when he heard the Floo flare to life, heralding the appearance of a not entirely unexpected visitor.

Severus never spared a glance to the hearth; there was only one person who could gain entry into his rooms without his express permission. He said nothing as Albus Dumbledore stepped into his line of sight. The dotty headmaster was still dressed in the ridiculous spangled robes he had worn to the Sorting.

Without bothering to ask Severus' leave, Albus settled himself comfortably into the chair across from his potions master. For a long while Severus refused meet his mentor's expectant gaze. Without realizing when or why he had done so, Severus unexpectedly found himself looking into those damnable, twinkling blue eyes. As usual, they shone with warmth and kindly understanding, and as usual, Severus found himself miffed because of it.

Severus' gut turned in on itself, as if he were a small child caught misbehaving. It annoyed him to no end that the aging wizard could still have such an effect on him. There had been only three people Severus had ever really loved and two of them had passed beyond the Veil long ago. The third was Albus Dumbledore.

Over time, the august headmaster had somehow become the paternal figure Severus had never known in his own father, Tobias Snape. Severus was only a mere child when he first entered the grand, magical edifice of that was Hogwarts. His mother's stories of Albus Dumbledore's legendary power and wisdom were almost too much for a young boy to comprehend, but once he laid eyes on the headmaster, even the young boy understood. Almost immediately, Severus admired him, even as he coveted and feared the famous wizard's awesome power.

Later, as a young man, after Severus realized his gross errors in judgement when he trusted another great and powerful wizard whose words were as sweet as honey, yet dripped venom all the same. Before it was too late to turn back, Severus shifted his efforts towards defending the Light. To some, his willingness to enter the Dark Lord's lair in order to glean valuable information on behalf of the headmaster's Order of the Phoenix, was an act of bravery. To Severus it was an act of selfishness. He knew he had only to save Lily. Severus felt grateful and completely undeserving of Albus' acceptance, understanding and the swift intervention that had kept him out of Azkaban.

Severus felt that a life sentence in the hellish prison was the least he was due for his trespasses. Initially, he assumed that the headmaster came to his aid because Dumbledore had further use for him. In time, however, Severus reluctantly came to realize Dumbledore would never have protected him, much less trusted and confided in him, if the headmaster disliked the younger wizard.

When Severus came to realize that the old man loved him as the son he had never had, flabbergasted couldn't begin to describe how Severus had felt. After all, who could love such an ugly, bitter, emotionally flawed person such as himself?

As time passed, and Severus had come to know the headmaster as just a man rather than a myth, he began suspect it was due to the fact the Albus might have seen a bit of himself in Severus. Dumbledore had known the temptation of power that had yielded disastrous results, just as Severus had. This epiphany further ignited Severus' fierce loyalty and the love of a son for his father. He was well aware Dumbledore manipulated and used him at times, but it was obvious the elder wizard genuinely loved and worried over him. Loathe though he was to admit it, Albus spoiled Severus much as one might a petulant son, allowing his Potions Master more leeway with how he ran his classes than the headmaster might his other professors, and enabling Severus during his many infamous, cantankerous mood swings.

This had been obvious in the days and months after Lily's death. The Potion Master was quite sure that the headmaster's influence and guidance had been the only thing that had kept him from meeting his end by his own hand after Lily died. During one of the bleakest times in Severus' life, Dumbledore had saved him once again, this time from suffocating in a thick mire of self-pity and bitter remorse. Therefore, Severus did everything Dumbledore wanted and more, not only because he had promised anything, but also because in reality he wanted to please the older man.

Finally Severus had to speak, if only to end the thunderous silence that had collected in the room. "Did you, by chance, happen to notice anything odd about our new celebrity?"

Severus squirmed under Albus' scrutiny. "Other than the fact that Harry Potter only superficially resembles James and bears an uncannily striking likeness to Hogwarts' current Potions Master; I've noticed nothing out of the ordinary about the boy at all."

"The boy's appearance could be mere coincidence, however, I must know for certain." Then Severus quietly said more to himself than Albus, "If it is true then this changes everything."

"I understand, Severus," Dumbledore assured. "So it is possible then? Harry could be your son?"

Severus nodded his affirmation. "It is a possibility. The timing is right," he said reflectively. "Harry was likely conceived at the end of October."

"I wasn't even aware you had any contact with Lily after the two of you left Hogwarts."

"Before that keen mind of yours comes to the wrong conclusion, old man, it was entirely consensual— by both parties," Severus snapped.

"Severus, it seems you are the one making assumptions," Albus said patiently. "Nothing could be further from my mind. I am well aware that you would never hurt Lily so."

"I won't go into details. The interlude was far too brief and once again, she chose Potter. Scarcely a fortnight had passed after I last saw her, when their marriage announcement appeared in the Daily Prophet," Severus said bitterly

"She was unfaithful to Potter." Severus' announcement lacked the expected note of triumph. "However, in the end, it was him…it was always him."

"She chose to bear your son," Dumbledore murmured. "It was not a decision she was coerced into. Lily was a brilliant witch. No doubt she was aware of her child's paternity."

"Lily would never have aborted the baby, even if it was mine," Severus said sullenly.

"Severus…," Albus began, his voice slightly pained.

"Did you suspect this... this turn of events?" Severus interrupted, not even attempting to hide his suspicion.

"Severus, I pride myself on the fact that my intuition far exceeds that of the ordinary witch or wizard, but even I must confess that I find this turn of events unexpected. I hadn't the least notion that Harry was other than who Lily claimed him to be—the son of James Potter," Dumbledore replied tilting his head in thought. "I am quite aware of your feelings for Lily, of how deeply you still love her. Do you think so little of me to believe I would purposefully keep you from the child you helped her create…your child?"

"You placed him with Lily's sister, correct?"

Dumbledore leaned back into the chair again, steepling his fingers together. "At the time, I felt the Blood Wards that Lily's sacrifice offered him was Harry's best protection."

"And now?" Severus asked contemptibly, his dark eyes flashing as they made contact with the headmaster's. "Tuney was a jealous and vindictive child and I seriously doubt time has changed her."

Dumbledore sighed. "Normally I would not recommend turning a child's life upside down, especially at this juncture. However, these recent events must be taken into consideration. The owls had difficulty delivering Mr Potter's letter. Hagrid took on the task of hand delivering it for me. Perhaps you should speak with him about his encounter with Harry and his guardians?"

For the briefest of moments, Severus was caught off guard and he inadvertently allowed his normally stoic countenance to slip. "If they have…if they have hurt him..." He trailed, off his jaw clenched tightly at the thought of that horse-faced shrew laying one finger on the boy's head.

Severus would not wait. He would get to the bottom of this tonight. Severus dashed to his room to quickly change into trousers and a jumper then grabbed his robes off the back of his chair where he had carelessly thrown them when he returned from the Welcoming Feast, and slipped them on.

"I would like to discuss this visit to the Dursleys. Where might I find Hagrid?" Severus asked, as he smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles. Merlin knows he paid enough for the magical wrinkle-free fabric.

"I expect that he is still in the boat house, securing the punts."

Without saying another word, Severus turned and swept from the room, his dark robes gliding across the stone floor in his wake.

Severus stalked through the cold empty corridors of Hogwarts, the torches magically casting an eerie dance of light and shadow on the stone walls. The massive solid oak doors of the main entrance creaked open as he approached. As he strode across the vast courtyard he heard the echoing, metallic boom as the doors slammed shut behind him.

The trek to the boathouse was not a short one for the Potions Master. Severus pulled his robes tighter around him in an effort to ward off the damp chill. The cool night air so early in September heralded the approach of an early Scottish winter—or he could simply have been imagining it. Severus could have simply been cold from fear of what he could discover in a few short moments.

As Severus approached the steep, winding stairs, the small structure of the glass boathouse came to view in the distance. He looked across the spectacular vista and was struck with a sense of Déjá vu. He remembered the night long ago when he and Lily crossed the Black Lake together and first laid eyes on the majestic castle. The lights of the ancient castle sparkled like diamonds on a black velvet drapery. The eleven-year-old Severus was struck breathless and Lily was equally awestruck.

Severus had heard the tales of the magical castle from his mother his entire life, but nothing had prepared him for the experience. Even at that young age, Severus felt the powerful magic emanating from the castle. It breathed magic like a living thing. The air seemed to vibrate with it as the tiny punts were magically drawn into the castle. It struck Severus like a bell, the moment he stepped off the small boat and into the castle. To this day, he still believed that the castle was sentient, acknowledging each magical child as they passed through her barriers. This was why the annual ritual of traversing the lake was always honoured, even in inclement weather. Fortunately, the benign giant squid that dwelled in the Black Lake was always nearby to return any inquisitive children to their boat that may have been unfortunate enough to fall over the side.

The sky had been clear for Harry's first trip across the lake, just as it had been the night Severus first arrived at Hogwarts. He remembered as he sat in that small punt, Lily had wound her fingers into his, seeking strength from him. It was one of Severus' happiest memories. In fact, it was the memory he used to conjure his Patronus.

That happy moment had been broken, however, when the moron, Sirius Black, pompously and erroneously proclaimed that the Black Lake had been named after his family. Ironic, considering how vehemently Black tried to deny his heritage as the years passed.

In reality, the Black Lake had been simply named because of its colour, a very dark, inky hue. Beneath the nearly constant layer of mist, the water seemed as still as obsidian glass.

Severus stopped half way down the stairs and gazed out across the expanse. He could not help but wonder about Harry's experience crossing the lake. Had Harry been spellbound by the magic, awestruck by the castles dangerous beauty—or had Petunia, who as a child had both coveted and loathed anything magical, manipulated the little boy into believing magic was evil and abnormal? The look of wonder on

Harry's face as he came through the Great Hall and saw the enchanted ceiling and floating candles, indicated to Severus that Tuney had not been successful in poisoning the boy's mind against magic. Severus had a deep, sinking feeling in his gut that Petunia Dursley tried very hard to quell Harry's magic.

When Severus finally reached the boathouse, he paused just outside the door. He could see the outline of Hagrid's hulking mass through the leaded glass. There was a flash of wand light, the loud clatter of something heavy crashing to the floor and then Hagrid's disgruntled muttering. Severus smirked. He would be willing to bet an entire month's salary that the grounds keeper was using his ridiculous pink flowered umbrella that obviously contained the bits of his broken wand, to magic the boats into their proper place.

The Potions Master had to admit the fact that Hagrid could perform any sort of magic at all with a broken wand and only three years of formal training was a testament to the half-giant's innate magical ability. Had his fate chosen a different course, Hagrid might have been a formidable wizard.

Severus pushed the boathouse door open slowly, allowing the slow creek to announce his presence. Hagrid had been using magic to secure the oars to the punts to the wall. Severus' intrusion had startled the half-giant and when Hagrid suddenly turned to see who had caught him, one of the little boats fell half-way off the wall and knocked Hagrid on the head. The boat's stern splintered into a hundred pieces, but Hagrid did no more than rub his head, as if he had only been hit by an annoying acorn falling from a tree.

"Pr'fessor Snape! I did'na see ya standin' there," Hagrid said nervously.

Severus supressed a smirk and waved his wand. The wooden shards of the punt gathered themselves back together and the boat settled into its proper hook on the wall.

"The headmaster told me I might find you here," Severus explained, tucking his ebony coloured wand into his equally dark hued robes.

"I was wonderin' if ya might come see me," Hagrid replied soberly as he gently placed his umbrella on a work bench. His great shoulders heaved with a sigh, as if grateful Severus had not called him out on his transgression. "Jus' was'na expectin' ya so soon."

Severus shoved his hands inside his cloak pockets to hide his nervous twitching. "Why would you be expecting me at all?"

Hagrid took a rope from off the wall and bent far over to pull the last punt into position on the dock. At least one boat had to remain on the water in case of emergency. "Well…when Dumbledore asked me ta deliver young Harry's Hogwarts letter, I was expectin' him ta look like James Potter. I was little takin' aback when I realised he didn't…but the tyke's face was still somehow familiar. Then it hit me when he walked into the Great Hall tonight."

"He looked like me," Severus answered dispassionately. He did not want Hagrid to see how much he had been affected.

Hagrid finished tying off the boat and stood to his full height. He placed his hands in the small of his back and stretched back. "Actually, he reminded me a bit of yer mum. But I made the connection, if ya know what I mean," he admitted. He gave a slight groan as he relieved the kinks in his back.

"Hagrid, I need you not to say a word to anyone about this. As it is, I'm not certain if it's true." It worried him that the half-giant already suspected so much. Hagrid was infamous for having a loose tongue when we was off his trolley.

"Can'na say it's anyone else's business, now isn'it?"

"No it isn't," Severus agreed with a sigh. "Hagrid, why did you have to hand deliver Mr Potter's letter?"

"For some reason, he was'n getting' them. Emptied out the Owlery, they did. Me an' Pr'fessor McGonagall were the only ones other than Dumbledore who knew where 'Arry was put into hidin', see. McGonagall was busy notifyin' the Muggle-borns so Dumbledore sent me."

Severus found himself somewhat reassured that Hagrid had managed to keep Harry's hiding place secret all of these years. Maybe he wouldn't have to Obliviate the gentle-giant.

"What happened when you delivered the letter?"

"Well, if truth be told, Pr'fessor, I don' think I handled the situation all so good," Hagrid admitted sheepishly.

Severus listened carefully as Hagrid told him of the night he barged into the hut the Dursleys had been camping in. Not taking into account his abnormal strength on the friable Muggle hut, the half-giant did a sight more than knock on the door—he knocked the door down. The fact that his intrusion happened at midnight when the entire family had been sleeping did not lend itself to harmonious introductions from the Dursleys.

Hagrid said he had been met by Vernon Dursley wielding a Muggle weapon. From the description he gave, Severus thought it might be a shotgun. This stuck him as odd, being that the Dursleys lived in the suburbs and from what little Severus recalled of Lily's description of Petunia's husband, he very much doubted Vernon Dursley was a sportsman. Legally acquiring such a weapon is a long and difficult process. Severus should know. His own father had applied for a firearms licence and been denied one on several occasions—thank Merlin. He wondered if Harry's uncle acquired the weapon via the illegal route and what would possess the man to take such a huge risk. Severus had to admit to himself, if he were a Muggle and any man barged into his home, much less a man the size of a small lorry, he would have met the threat with the most deadly weapon he could find too.

According to Hagrid, the Dursley's were on holiday when he managed to find them after the tracking spells had led him all across the countryside. The location made no sense to Severus. Why would anyone chose to holiday in a dilapidated shack on a rock in the middle of the Channel? From Hagrid's description, there weren't even proper beds for the boys to sleep in the cold and draughty hut.

Hagrid mentioned that Harry dressed in clothed that were oversized and unclean. Severus had seen Muggle youth dressed in such a manner on the streets of Cokeworth and in the markets of Manchester. He was certain it was the current generation's rebellion against authority. Well, if the boy began showing any signs of insolence or disrespect here at Hogwarts, Severus would see that they were jacked in quickly. Then Hagrid said something that greatly concerned Severus. In the heat of her diatribe, Petunia had called Lily a filthy slag. It was enough to make Severus want to Apparate to Surrey and hex the horse-faced shrew's tongue out right then.

"Then she called poor Harry a…," Hagrid hesitated. What little of his cheeks Severus could discern through the matted beard on Hagrid's face was red from righteous anger. "Well…I can'na repeat what she done said, and I should'n be held accountable fer what I did. Usin' that kinda language aroun' children," he added defensively.

"You have nothing to fear from me," Severus assured Hagrid coolly. "What did Hor...erm…Petunia, say to make you hex her?" Severus just managed to catch himself. He had nearly referred to Petunia as Horse-face. Proof that the habits of childhood were wont to die hard.

Hagrid seemed unsure as his beetle-like eyes darted about, looking to see if there was anyone else who might overhear. "She…she…." Hagrid swallowed hard before he rushed out his next words. "She called the little tyke the bastard of a freak."

Those words stung Severus to the quick. How many times had Petunia called him and Lily freaks? But to call Harry a bastard of a freak…did Petunia suspect something?

"Did you tell the headmaster of this?" Severus inquired. How much did Dumbledore know?

Hagrid scratched the back of his head and said sheepishly, "I was goin' ta, but Harry asked me ta let it pass. He didn't seem put-out by it. Said the whole family was scared of magic—tha' they tend to overreact sometimes, is all."

If Hagrid wasn't three times his size, Severus felt he might throttle him. The fact that Harry was blasé about Petunia's insults and her husband's tendency for violence disturbed Severus. Most considered Hagrid's naiveté as part of his charm, but for adult of the gamekeeper's age, such ingenuousness could prove to be a dangerous thing. Severus could not imagine the boy being so unmoved by the Dursley's behaviour if it wasn't a common occurrence. He wouldn't have a chance to speak to Harry's aunt and uncle until the weekend—not that he expected the full truth from Petunia and her husband. But what if the truth was unthinkable? How would Severus find out?

Severus' didn't think he could get anything else useful from Hagrid so he excused himself to leave. He stopped at the door when Hagrid called out to him.

"Pr'fessor. I'm not going to ask why. I know you ta be a good soul and you would never hurt Lily, thick as thieves you were here at Hogwarts… but do you really think that Harry could be yours?"

Severus took a moment to school his features before he turned again to the gamekeeper, "What do you think?" he asked dispassionately.

"I think you would'n be here unless you did."

Severus stalked away from the boathouse. Even if Hagrid miraculously managed to keep his suspicions to himself, the credulous giant was able to put two and two together and realise that Lily may not have been the saint that history and Albus Dumbledore had painted her to be. If Hagrid could make the connection between Severus and Harry, then it would only be a matter of time before others would.

Doubtless, others would not believe so readily that the circumstances behind Harry's conception were conceptual. Severus had a dark past and many would immediately expect the unthinkable of him rather than think that Lily could be unfaithful to James Potter, if only for a brief time. Severus' analytical mind kept screaming at him that Harry's resemblance to him was strictly coincidental. It had been a brief affair, abruptly cut short for reasons that remained unknown to him, but Lily and James had been together for…. Try though he might, Severus could not deny it. The timing was right and looking at the boy was like peering into a mirror of the past.

Severus could survive the scrutiny, the uncomfortable questions, and the unwarranted accusations— but could Harry? Perhaps it would be better for Harry if Severus said nothing and simply denied everything once the hard questions began to be asked. But how could he do it? Even if Harry never knew the truth, Severus always would.

Two young boys sat excitedly on the edges of their beds. One was tall for his age with red hair and freckles, and the other, fair, with emerald eyes behind round glasses. Hidden underneath the fringe of his stringy, raven-black hair was a peculiar scare shaped like a lightning bolt.

Harry Potter had just met his new friend, Ron Weasley, that very morning on the train to Hogwarts. Ron looked just like the rest of his family—all red hair and freckles. Harry had never seen a family the size of the Weasleys. So far, Harry had met Ron's mum, his little sister, and three of his older brothers, and that wasn't even the lot of them. Ron seemed to be a little put out being in the middle of such a large family. One older brother had been Head Boy and another, captain of the school Quidditch team. Now Percy, the oldest at Hogwarts now, was just named a Prefect. He was nice enough to Harry, but he seemed a bit bossy to Ron and their other brothers, the twins, Fred and George. Despite the fact that Ron seemed to be lost in such a large family, Harry couldn't help but feel envious that it was obvious that his new friend belonged somewhere.

Harry other dorm mates, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas, were already asleep. Harry had no idea how late it was, but he was too excited to sleep and Ron had proven himself a good friend by staying up with him.

"It's the last cauldron cake. You want?" Ron asked as he longingly eyed the flaky, sweet pastry that lay on the edge of Harry's bed.

"Nah," Harry replied, tossing the tasty treat to his new friend as he rubbed his belly. "I'm podged."

Harry grinned as Ron caught the pasty, eagerly tore it open and shoved half of it into his mouth. It felt so nice to have a friend to share with.

And it was true— Harry couldn't remember ever being so full in his life. Aunt Petunia had never let him eat until he had his fill. Harry could count on one hand how many times he was allowed a second helping, much less pudding or sweeties. The only time he was ever got such treats was when he went to his babysitter's house, Mrs Figg. Mrs Figg always let Harry indulge in whatever he wanted, but the house always smelled like cats and cabbages and that always threw off Harry's appetite.

Hogwarts was truly incredible, with its talking portraits, magical floating candles, and bewitched ceiling. It was like nothing Harry could have imagined in his wildest dreams. At the feast, Harry had been awestruck; he had never seen so much food in his entire life. It seemed Hogwarts served a bit of everything, even peppermint humbugs, which struck Harry as a bit odd.

As Harry listened to Ron's satisfied smackings, he couldn't help but think about that dark-haired teacher. Whenever Harry looked his way he would get the strangest pain in his scar. Harry had never had pain in his scar before.

Percy told him that the teacher's name was Professor Snape. In fact, Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Professor Snape was looking at him. It was kinda weird. Harry would get this strange feeling that he was being watched, but when he looked up at the Head table Professor Snape was looking elsewhere or talking to the teacher next to him—the one with the purple turban.

"Ron?" Harry began.

"Mmph?" Ron responded with a full mouth, causing more than a few crumbs to fly from his lips.

"That teacher, Professor Snape, I think he was watching us. Why do you suppose that was?"

Ron shrugged and swallowed loudly. "Fred and George say he is a real git and hates Gryffindors—always taking points for no reason, assigning awful detentions and favouring the Slytherins." Ron snorted. "He was probably was wondering which one of us he would torture first. I sure do hope Potions are not the first class on our timetable tomorrow." Ron yawned loudly and crawled beneath his duvet. "I don't know about you but I'm knackered. G'night,Harry."

"I am too. Night, Ron," Harry replied softly. As he climbed into his incredibly soft bed, Harry could have sworn that he had caught Professor Snape staring at him just once. But contrary to what Ron had said, Harry saw no malice in the professor's eyes. If anything, Harry thought he looked curious…or maybe something Harry couldn't quite place.

Harry was sure of one thing, though— it was not hate or disgust. Thanks to his relatives, Harry was all-too familiar with those looks.

Harry decided not to worry about it anymore. For the first time in his memory, he didn't have to worry about anything. His belly was full, his bed was warm, he had a friend, and he was safe inside Hogwarts. Harry rolled over on his side, pulled his soft covers up to his chin, and closed his eyes. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that never remembered being so comfortable.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts and Harry was quite sure they all wanted to make it difficult for the first years to make it to class on time. Everything seemed to move, the people and animals in all the portraits, the coats of armour, and even the walls themselves.

Hindering them also was the fact that it usually seemed like most of the older students felt it was beneath them to notice first years who were trying to manoeuvre through the dense crowds in unfamiliar corridors. The fact that Harry was the smallest boy in his year only compounded his problems. He and Ron had been nearly run over five times that morning by much larger students. It all made the simple business of arriving to class on time seem quite daunting first thing in the morning. By now, Harry and Ron should have been in Transfiguration, but instead they were racing up stairways to nowhere. The stairs they were presently riding had led to nothing but a blank, stone wall.

"Unbelievable! We're late now for sure!" Ron said as they raced back down the staircase in a desperate attempt to find their way to class. It was true—they were late. There were no more students lingering the corridors.

From her stern appearance at the Sorting, Harry was pretty sure Professor McGonagall wasn't a teacher to cross. Plus, she was his Head of House. He really didn't want to be late for her class.

"Come on, I think it might be this way, Ron!" Harry said with much more confidence than he felt.

As he blindly turned down the nearest corridor, Harry sped up into a jog. Unfortunately, as he turned back to see if Ron was still behind him, suddenly Harry wondered how he had missed the stone wall he had just ran into. Falling backward, arms pin-wheeling in the air, Harry squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable impact with the stone floor.

But his collision with the floor never occurred. The sensation of his backwards free-fall ceased when Harry felt a very large hand grab his shoulder and fixed him upright. Harry's eyes flew open wide and his panic was renewed when he found himself staring into the black depths of Professor Snape's eyes. He hadn't run into a wall—he blindly smacked straight into a giant bat.

Harry looked up at the dark, mysterious professor. There was something about his quiet and menacing manner that Harry found even scarier than any of Uncle Vernon's enraged ranting. Fred and George had explained all about how evil Professor Snape was, and how he liked to set Gryffindor firsties detentions with Mr Filtch so they could be hung by chains along the dungeon walls for all of this Slytherins to take the mickey out of.

Harry gasped and winced slightly waiting for the expected punishment from the feared teacher, but like his fall, it too never came. To Harry's astonishment, Professor Snape's reaction was hardly a mild rebuke.

"Mr Potter," Professor Snape said calmly, as he released Harry's shoulders. "If I am not mistaken, your first class this morning is Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, is it not? Why aren't you there?"

Harry wondered if he looked as gormless as he felt. How did Professor Snape know his schedule? Perhaps Fred and George were right—Professor Snape really did read minds.

"I...I...yes, sir," Harry stammered.

Harry had never heard the Professor speak before. To his surprise, it was kind of a nice voice. Sort of deep and soft, like the voice he would hear in his dreams where his Dad was still alive and would tell him reassuring bedtime stories to keep the demons away—like in Dudley's story time videos that Harry would listen to through his cupboard door when he was very little. It was quite different from his Uncle and Aunt who seemed to always find some excuse to bellow and screech at Harry.

However, because his usual dealings with adults rarely ended in his favour, Harry remained wary and took a tentative step back from Professor Snape's dark and imposing figure. He looked behind his shoulder in hopes of finding any witnesses should the Potions Master turn him into a newt and sighed with relief when he noticed that Ron had finally caught up with him. His ginger-haired friend paled, causing his freckles to stand out in stark relief… so much for Gryffindor bravery.

"Ah, Mr Weasley...another wayward Gryffindor, I see."

Harry put his hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle as Ron struggled for something to say that wouldn't get him in anymore trouble.

"Follow me. I'll never hear the end of it if I allow two of Professor McGonagall's precious lions fall victim to Peeves. The nuisance managed to get his slimly little hands on a Fanged Frisbee. I suspect a couple of Weasley's are behind it," Professor Snape said darkly. The professor gave Ron a sinister glare and Harry thought his poor friend might just pass out.

Harry and Ron were both waiting for some form of torturous punishment that should have belonged to Fred and George to befall them, but instead, Professor Snape turned away so quickly, Harry and Ron just stood there and dumbly blinked as the professor's black robes billowed in his wake.

"Well?" Professor Snape snapped without ever looking back.

Harry and Ron ran to catch up with the dark figure. They turned the corner where at least a dozen suites of armour stood at attention on either side of them. They hadn't taken two steps when Professor Snape halted suddenly, causing Harry to nearly run into him again. His eye's narrowed as if sensing something that Harry and Ron could not. The imposing professor had somehow pulled his wand so quickly from his robes, Harry hadn't even seen him move. He lowered his free hand and gestured for Harry and Ron to stay close behind.

Then, the oddest thing happened. Far down the corridor, the face mask of one of the suits of armour slowly opened and a strange lime-green disk emerged from it. It hovered menacingly for what seemed like forever before it suddenly flew at lightning-fast speed straight for them. Harry and Ron both gasped, because without warning, the flying disk started snarling and gnashing sharp teeth.

Professor Snape easily stepped to one side as the disk flew past, keeping Harry and Ron safely behind his back. As the disk whizzed by in a green blur, Professor Snape raised his wand and in a flash, it exploded into a sparkling, green cloud and fizzled away.

"Peeves, show yourself this instant," Professor Snape said forcefully.

An unseen someone blew a loud raspberry and the same suit of armour the Frisbee appeared from and clattered to the floor in a heap.

"Very well, I'll have a word with the Bloody Baron."

Suddenly there was a sharp pop, like a cork coming out of a bottle of fizzy drink, and a very strange looking, small man appeared floating in the air just in front the professor.

"Ooooh!" he said with a wicked cackle as he looked over Professor Snape's shoulder. The strange man skirted past the professor and began circling so low over Harry and Ron's heads, they had to duck. "What's this? A little, itty, bitty Snivelly, I see. "

"I'm not snivelly!" Harry protested loudly as he boldly shook his fist at the phantasm.

"Neither am I!" Ron said just as fiercely.

"Enough!" Snape hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Harry wasn't sure if Professor Snape was angry at him or the ghost-man. "Peeves, if you don't leave now, I'll have the Bloody Baron dogging your every move until Judgment Day."

At the threat, Peeves stopped his incessant circling and gave Professor Snape a two-fingered salute before he zoomed away in the opposite direction.

"Sir, was that a ghost?" Harry asked as he and Ron ran to catch up with Snape, who started striding down the corridor again without warning.

"No, Peeves is a poltergeist," Professor Snape replied, stowing his wand back into the folds of his cloak. "A poltergeist set on creating chaos and mayhem." He looked down at Harry and Ron as they continued to struggle keeping up with his long strides. "If you ever find yourself alone in a face to face confrontation with Peeves, simply threaten him with the Bloody Baron. He'll leave you alone quickly enough."

Harry wasn't exactly sure what the difference between a ghost and a poltergeist was, but since it really wasn't going to keep him up at nights, he decided to let it go.

"But the Bloody Baron is the Slytherin ghost, sir," Ron said timidly. "He won't help us. We're Gryffindors."

"The Baron will answer to whomever I tell him to," Professor Snape said ambiguously. Harry and Ron looked at each other with astonishment. What on earth did that mean? Harry was beginning to wonder if this really was Professor Snape. Maybe he got his professors mixed up, because although this teacher seemed stern, he didn't seem like the evil bat that every other Gryffindor had described.

"Sir…what do you teach?" Harry asked, feeling pretty confident he wouldn't end up in Professor Snape's cauldron now.

"Potions," the professor said curtly. "Fortunately for you and Mr Weasley, my Seventh-year NEWTS don't begin for another hour. How you two managed to be halfway across the castle from your destination is beyond me."

So this really was Professor Snape. Now Harry was really confused and knew that Ron must be doubly so. From his very limited experience with the dour professor Harry was certain he wouldn't end up in detention so he decided to actually answer. "We're sorry, sir. Ron and I overslept. By the time we were ready everyone but the older students were gone and they looked like they didn't want to be bothered."

"Yeah, so we ended up asking one of the portraits," Ron added.

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed. A funny little line formed between them. "Which portrait?"

"I'm not rightly sure, sir," Harry admitted as he looked at Ron who only shrugged back at him. "He said his name was Sir Cardigan, but he was moving around from painting to painting. So we don't know where he came from."

Professor Snape stopped suddenly and the oddest, confused look came over his face. "Sir Cardig…? Do you mean Sir Cadogan?"

Harry nodded. "That's him."

Harry wasn't sure if Professor Snape was going to laugh or spit, but in the end he just said, "Word to the wise, Mr Potter—Mr Weasley, Sir Cadogan's sanity is questionable at best. Next time, ask an older student. I'm sure they won't bite, even if they are Gryffindors."

Professor Snape resumed their quest to find Professor McGonagall's classroom, Harry heard Snape mumble something he was certain wasn't meant for his young ears. "Bloody oil stain's a menace."

Harry and his friend continued to follow the teacher down three floors, zigging and zagging so many different way through the halls, Harry was quite positive he would never learn his way around the enormous castle.

Finally, they arrived outside the door of what Harry presumed to be the Transfiguration classroom, Professor Snape unceremoniously jerked the door open and ushered them into the room. Just as they stepped across the threshold, a grey tabby cat that had been sitting atop a desk on the front dais gracefully jumped and turned into Professor McGonagall mid-leap.

"Wow!" Harry and Ron said in unison, thoroughly impressed.

Professor Snape merely smirked and arched an eyebrow at the display. "I see you're still performing the same party tricks you did twenty years ago," Snape commented dryly. "I believe you are missing two of your lions. I found these two lost and had it not been for my timely arrival, they would have been utterly at the mercy of Peeves. I think you should better prepare your first years, Professor McGonagall."

At that point, Harry didn't know who was the scarier of the two teachers, Snape or McGonagall. For some reason Professor Snape seemed to be angry with Harry's Head of House and she seemed equally as cross that Professor Snape had criticized her in front of the entire class. Neither professor seemed like one to be trifled with.

Professor McGonagall frowned with her lips pursed tightly as his she were trying to hold something back. "Thank you, Professor Snape," she said tersely. "I'll see to Potter and Weasley from here." Her eyes moved over them, seeming to settle on Harry longer than Ron and Harry couldn't help but squirm under her scrutiny.

"I trust that you two can find your seats without much difficulty."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Harry and Ron said in unison once again. They scuttled quickly to the two remaining empty seats. As the potions teacher turned to exit the classroom, Harry heard Professor McGonagall speak again.

"Sever...Professor Snape, if you don't mind, would you join me in my office later for tea?" Harry was sure by her tone, it wasn't just a request.

Professor Snape merely nodded his agreement as he swept out of the room. The interaction caused a low murmur of disbelief and speculation to ripple across the room.

Fortune had smiled on Severus that day. By happy coincidence his regular office hours were first thing in the morning that day. Rather than go over the same lesson plans he had taught year after year, he decided to take a stroll. If that stroll happened to take him past the Transfiguration corridor, then so be it.

He purposely sat next to Minerva that morning at breakfast as the Deputy Headmistress always reviewed the timetables of her First-years one final time before she distributed them. A silent Confundus to distract her attention right about the time she came across the mid-Ps was all he needed to steal a glance at Harry's schedule. Severus supposed he could have simply have asked Albus for a copy, but where was the fun in that? It served her right anyway. If she continued to cut Severus furtive little glances, he would have had to hex out her eyes. That would not have boded well for his continued employment.

Severus watched carefully as small groups of children found their way to Minerva's classroom, circling wide berths around him as if he were carrying Dragon Pox. Not that it mattered to Severus. He didn't care much for children. Oh…he didn't hate them, but he didn't rightly like them either. He was pondering the paradox of being a teacher with no love of children when he noticed that the crowds were thinning and there had still been no sign of Harry Potter. It was then that he began to worry.

He finally enlisted the help of a couple of portraits that informed him that Harry and his friend were on the opposite end of the castle and making their way to the Hall of Armour, the favourite haunt of Peeves the Poltergeist. Severus took a shortcut via a secret staircase and arrived just in time to stumble across Harry—almost quite literally—when the boy took a header into Severus' celiac plexus. Harry and the current-youngest Weasley kit had been running late as they were set astray by that bloody Sir Cadogan. That waste of piss and pigment couldn't find is way around his own painting, much less find his way around the castle. It was a shame that the secret stairway was actually a secret, otherwise he could have avoided leading the children down Peeves' favourite haunt.

Severus sighed as he continued his wool-gathering and his trek to Minerva's office. He knew perfectly well what this meeting was about. She too, had obviously made the connection between Severus and Harry and the old-cat couldn't leave well-enough alone. Perhaps he should have hexed her eyes out at breakfast?

The Transfiguration classroom was empty, just as all of the classrooms were. With the exception of extracurricular activities and Astronomy, lessons were over for the day and most students were on their way to the Great Hall for dinner.

He hated being called to her office like this. Severus knew it wasn't a request to share tea, but rather an order to explain himself. Rather like that time in Fourth-year when Sirius Black mysteriously sprouted an asses tail in McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. Severus tried to explain that he was simply practicing his wand movement when the spell accidentally erupted. It wasn't his fault that Black was in the line of fire. Minerva didn't buy it for a second. Bugger!

Severus crossed the classroom floor, feeling as though he were marching to a funeral dirge. When he reached the door, he stood up straight and gathered his composure. He wasn't Professor McGonagall's student anymore. He was an adult and Minerva's colleague. He convinced himself that he had nothing to fear as he knocked confidently on the door.

"Come in, Severus."

Severus blew out a hard breath before entered. He knew that voice. This was not going to be a pleasant tea.

"Minerva," Severus said evenly as he sat himself in the empty chair across from her desk. "You wished to see me?"

Minerva played mother and poured him a cup of tea as a plate of sandwiches popped on to the desk. Her face was set tighter than the bun on her head. Severus took the offered tea and a Marmite and cheese sandwich. He really didn't feel like eating. His stomach was flopping about as if he had swallowed a live fish. But he needed to have something handy to cram down his throat if the conversation went south. He could get away with more insults than many of his fellow professors, but there was a limit to everything.

"Yes, Severus, there is something—or rather, someone I want to discuss with you," Minerva said as she settled back into her chair with a cup of tea in hand.

Severus casually blew on his tea before taking a sip. "Would you care to enlighten me or would you rather play guessing games?"

Minerva placed her cup on the table and it clattered lightly. "You've always appreciated candour, so I'll be blunt—Did you know?"

Severus took a bite of his sandwich and swallowed it down hard. He had to take another sip of tea to keep from choking on it.

"Did I know what, Minerva? That Peeves was lying in ambush? That Albus wears mismatched socks? That the Boy Who Lived bears a striking resemblance to Hogwarts' current Potions Master? Do tell—which one of the mysteries do you need an answer to?"

Minerva rubbed her forehead as if nursing a growing headache. "Severus, will you please be serious. I must admit, I was up most of the night fretting over this. I was convinced that I must be losing my senses."

"Don't worry," Severus said then tossed his head back as he finished off his tea. "We aren't carting you off to a care home, yet."

Minerva reached over the table and Severus handed her his cup. "You hardly sound reassuring," she said as she refilled his cup. She opened up a drawer and pulled out a flask. She showed it to Severus and he nodded. Minerva added a splash of the brown liquor to his cup and then twice as much to hers.

"But to answer your question—no—I did not know about Harry until last night."

Minerva seemed to sigh with relief. "Severus, I nearly fell over when little Harry came up to be sorted," she admitted. Minerva sipped her tea, and Severus noticed how she braced herself with the liquid courage. "I saw that same face walk into the Great Hall twenty years ago, and I am not referring to James Potter. Now either Albus has created a concoction to change the boy's appearance for some deep game that is beyond me or you are the boy's father."

From the sound of her voice, Severus was sure that Minerva considered her latter suggestion an impossibility and she only meant to tease him.

Severus again slowly drank his tea, taking comfort from the slow burn that trickled down his throat. He never bothered to answer Minerva verbally, but only gave her a meaningful look. It didn't take long for Minerva to decipher it.

"Severus! What did you do to poor Lily?" Minerva gasped, clutching at her chest.

Severus levelled a dagger-like stare in the Transfiguration teacher's direction, "We had sex, as that is generally how these things are done."

"But...how can that be? Lily would have never...Did that that monster make you…?"

"Of course not!" Severus bellowed as he rose from his chair. "I assure you it was quite consensual. Do you honestly think that I could…that I would…rape Lily?" He could literally taste is bile in the last words.

Without knowing how, Severus found himself staring out Minerva's window. There were a group of Gryffindors gathering in the court yard followed by some curious Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Young Mr Thomas must be a Muggle-born. He had placed a Muggle football on the ground and seemed to be instructing his friends on the particulars of the game. Severus smiled inside when he noticed Harry amongst them.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Minerva said. She was standing just behind his shoulder. "I know you and Lily were thick as thieves for years. I assumed you had a falling out over your…associations. I know she loved James deeply, so I won't pretend that I understand."

"She did love…him… deeply. But his missions for the Order took him away for weeks at a time with no word. And I'm sorry to destroy your saccharine notions of the sainted Potters, but they were human…and Lily was often lonely."

"You had a love affair," Minerva stated stoically, obviously hurt by Lily's betrayal of Potter.

Severus nodded; glad that he wasn't facing Minerva so she could see his pain. "I'll spare you the details, but it was only the one time…a moment of weakness for the both of us that Lily instantly regretted. She and Potter were not yet married, but they were engaged."

"How are you going to tell him?"

Funny that Minerva knew Severus so well. He wasn't one-hundred percent certain that Harry was his, but he knew he would find out. And what if his suspicions were true? He didn't know if he should tell Harry, but somehow he knew he would.

As he looked out the window Harry had managed to score a goal against the opposing team that seemed to be captained by none other than Mr Thomas. Harry basked in the praise and cheers of his friends and Severus felt a sense of pride he had never experienced before. He had no legal or scientific proof that Harry was his yet, but he found himself desperately hoping it was true. Harry would be his proof, that if only for a short time, Lily's heart had belonged to Severus and he could live happily on that for the rest of his life.

"Severus?"

Minerva had startled him from his musings. "I'm sorry. What did you say, Minerva?"

"I asked, how are you going to tell him."

Severus breathed deeply and tore himself away from the window. "I'm not sure yet. First, I need to find a way to confirm that he is mine."

By the time Friday arrived, Harry was quite relieved to discover he wasn't too far behind his classmates. Many came from Muggle homes, just like him, and hadn't known anything about magic either. Even the kids from magical homes, like Ron, didn't have much of a head start because there was just so much stuff to learn. He had another cause to celebrate. By the end of the week, Harry and Ron had finally found their way to the Great Hall without getting lost.

"What do we have first today?" Harry asked Ron as he dumped sugar and cream into his porridge. Harry had never been allowed such luxuries at the Dursleys' and was now taking advantage of his new-found freedom.

"Bugger! Double Potions with the Slytherins," Ron said miserably, looking at his timetable. "Snape is Slytherin's Head of House. Fred and George say he favours them. I guess we'll see if it's true."

"Too bad McGonagall doesn't show us favour," Harry said, scooping up a large bite of his porridge and shoving it into his mouth, enjoying the sweet creamy taste. Professor McGonagall was their Head of House, but she had still set a load of homework for them. Harry doubted Professor Snape would take sympathy.

"I guess we shouldn't be too worried," Ron said as he tucked into his breakfast. "Fred and George were probably just winding us up. The professor didn't seem as bad as they said he was the other day."

Harry nearly dumped his porridge out of his spoon when the Great Hall suddenly came alive with the flapping wings and hoots and shrieks of owls delivering the mail. Hedwig had not brought Harry any letters or packages, of course. This was to be expected, his relatives were certainly not going to be sending him anything. He had a momentary twinge of disappointment, but swallowed it back with a gulp of pumpkin juice.

But still, Hedwig would fly in each morning to visit Harry and get bit of his bacon and a scratch on her head before she flew gracefully back to the Owlery. Despite the lack of a letter, it made Harry smile and was a welcome start to his day.

But much to his surprise this morning was different. Hedwig actually dropped a letter on Harry's plate nearly launching his bacon across the table. Harry eagerly ripped it open to see who would have sent him a letter. It was from Hagrid, inviting Harry to tea in his hut that afternoon when his lessons were over. Harry happily scribbled out a short note on the back of the letter saying he would like that and sent it off with Hedwig— after giving her an extra piece of his crispy bacon, of course.

After breakfast, Harry and Ron trudged reluctantly down into the damp, chilly dungeons. Harry wondered why Potions lessons were held in the dungeon. He thought maybe they were so awful it was like being held captive in prison.

When they arrived in the dungeon classroom, Harry found them to be even darker and creepier than the dungeon corridors. He supposed it was the slimy and unrecognisable creatures preserved in jars of different shapes and sizes lined along shelves on the walls. He shivered, because he could have sworn that an eyeball floating around with others in some murky, yellow liquid had blinked at him. Maybe Fred and George were right. Professor Snape did cut up his bad students into potions ingredients after all.

Harry and Ron barely arrived on time and they quickly found their seats next to a bushy-haired Gryffindor girl. Harry remembered her from the train ride and the Sorting. He was pretty sure her name was Hermione. It was such an unforgettable name once it was stuck in his head. She was furiously scribbling on a piece of parchment, but stopped just long enough to give them a critical look, as if they were really late.

Harry wondered how she could possibly be taking notes already. The lecture hadn't even started yet. But once he thought about it, Harry decided perhaps having his supplies out early wasn't such a bad idea, so he pulled his own quill, ink, and parchment from his bag. Taking notes wouldn't hurt, and even though he would never admit it to Ron, he was kind of excited about Potions. Science was his favourite subject in Primary. He managed to glance over the textbook during the summer and was amazed by all the different types of potions and what could be done with them.

The entire class jumped in their seats when the door suddenly flew open, noisily crashing against the stone wall. Professor Snape strode determinedly into the classroom, his black robes billowing behind him as if they would take to flight. The effect was very menacing.

Professor Snape reached the dais, turned quickly, and faced the class. The dark, cool manner in which he spoke set another round of chills down Harry's spine. "There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is Potion making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition—," Professor Snape paused and for a moment Harry thought the teacher's dark eyes flicked in his direction. Harry grabbed up his quill and quickly began taking note of every word his teacher spoke.

"I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death. Then again—perhaps most of you have come to Hogwarts with abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not take notes. Why is Mr Potter the only one writing this down?"

There was a quick flurry of activity as the students reached for their parchment and quills. Harry turned to Hermione because he knew that she had been taking notes too. She looked a bit put-out and Harry didn't blame her. He had gotten the idea from her and yet Professor Snape hadn't recognised her effort.

Someone must have done something on the Slytherin half of the room because Professor Snape's attention shifted over there from Harry. Malfoy was sniggering as if he found something funny. Apparently, Professor Snape didn't find it very funny because he was giving Draco Malfoy the most menacing glare Harry had ever seen. Harry sincerely hoped the professor would never look at him like that. Draco either didn't notice that Professor Snape was approaching him as he whispered to his friends sitting on either side of him, or he just wasn't very concerned. Harry thought either way was a colossally stupid mistake.

Harry remembered Draco and didn't like him at all. Harry first met the blonde boy the day he went shopping in Diagon Alley with Hagrid. He made Harry nervous because he kept questioning Harry about his parents and Harry didn't know how to answer. They met again on the Hogwarts Express. The way he openly insulted Ron's family, Harry knew that Malfoy was a pompous prig that he would never get along with. Malfoy was the reason Harry wasn't in Slytherin himself. Malfoy had already been sorted into Slytherin and Harry did not want to follow him, so he talked the Sorting Hat out of sending him there. Harry spent enough of his life living amongst bullies. Now he was away from the Dursleys, he didn't want to be condemned at his new school to the same fate.

"Mr Malfoy," the professor said darkly, "what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione's hand flew into the air; nearly smacking the side of Harry's head on the way up, just as Malfoy's attention finally snapped to the professor.

Malfoy looked rather stunned, as if he wasn't sure if it was some kind of trick. But Harry didn't think that Professor Snape was the type to pull tricks. Harry was glad Professor Snape hadn't asked him that question, because he certainly didn't know the answer. He suddenly wished he had read more of his potion's text if that was the kind of questions they would be asked.

Harry had to crane his head to look around Ron so he could see what was happening at the other table. Every eye in the room seemed to be on Malfoy, except for Hermione's. She was still waving her hand frantically trying to get Professor Snape's attention.

It looked like Malfoy didn't know the answer because he was obviously at a loss. For a moment he seemed to struggle for an answer until he finally stammered, "I…I don't know, sir."

"Hmm...Then let's try another, shall we? Tell me, Mr Malfoy," Snape said curtly, "where would I look if I wanted to find a Bezoar?"

Malfoy just stared unbelievingly up at the tall, dark figure. He was clearly at a loss for words. "I…I…"

"Pity—clearly your father has overpaid your private tutor."

Professor Snape leaned in closer to Malfoy. Malfoy leaned back, his face paler than a ghost's. His two gormless looking friends, Crabbe and Goyle, scooted away in their chairs in an effort to put some distance between themselves and Snape's victim. The professor spoke so softly, Harry could barely make out what he had said. "Next time, Mr Malfoy, you will think well enough to keep from making rude gestures at your fellow students in class and you won't be called out. Am I understood?"

Malfoy nodded dumbly. Harry honestly thought the arrogant git was going to cry.

Professor Snape turned and marched back up to the dais. No one dared to laugh or giggle behind his back, though Harry could tell that some students had to make an effort at it.

"One point will be given to Gryffindor, for Mr Potter's excellent note taking. Ms Granger, put your arm down, you silly girl. You're going to poke Mr Potter's eye out, waving it about like that."

Hermione put her hand down in a huff, but at least no one had laughed at her.

There were, however, poorly suppressed gasps of surprise rippling through the Gryffindor side of the room, and the Slytherins seemed to be in a state of mild shock. Harry understood why. Word had it that Professor Snape never awarded points to Gryffindor.

After giving a hurried explanation the monkshood and wolfsbane were the same plant and that one could find a Bezoar in the stomach of a goat—a concept that Harry found gross, yet morbidly fascinating—Professor Snape started talking about simple potions. Much to Harry's delight, they would actually get the chance to brew one on the very first day.

When it was time for the practical part of the lesson, with a flick of Professor Snape's wand, the directions on how to brew a Boil Cure magically appeared on the blackboard.

Once they began brewing, the professor glided silently up and down the aisles, his black cloak floating behind him like a giant shadow. As he glanced into each cauldron and snidely gave students suggestions on how to fix their deplorable potions.

"Don't put your porcupine quills in yet," Harry managed to whisper to Ron when the professor's attention was focused on Dean Thomas' cauldron. "You have to take it off the fire first."

Professor Snape glanced towards Harry and for a terrible moment, Harry thought the professor might have heard him give directions to Ron, but Professor Snape just moved on to Seamus Finnegan's cauldron and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, mate," Ron whispered back as he removed his cauldron from the heat, not daring to say more.

When it was their turn to be scrutinised, Harry and Ron gave auditable sighs of relief and smiled at each other when the professor declared that their potions were barely passable.

The professor was about to say something to Harry when Hermione screamed out, "No, Neville! It's too soon!"

Neville Longbottom was at the table directly in front of Hermione Granger. A loud hissing noise and an acid green smoke were coming from his cauldron.

"Move back, Mr Longbottom! Evanesco!" Professor Snape bellowed as he pointed is wand and made his way around the table over to Neville. But it was too late.

Harry guessed that Professor Snape was trying to get rid of Neville's ruined potion, and had mostly succeeded, but in less than a second Neville's cauldron had melted into a molten mass of pewter as the potion erupted like an active volcano and everyone in close vicinity, including Harry, took shelter under their tables.

Harry, Ron and Hermione waited under their table for the green goo to rain down on them, but it never came. Cautiously, they emerged from their haven. Professor Snape had managed to rid most of the potion, but poor Neville had been too close. His face sprouted angry red boils.

"Idiot boy! Can't you read?" Professor Snape practically roared. "You! Ms Granger! Take him to the hospital wing," he snapped.

He whirled around and glared at Harry. Harry winced, waiting for some sort of rebuke or accusation. He was close enough to see what Neville had been doing. Perhaps he was going to be blamed, like when Aunt Petunia would blame him for ruining one of Dudley's new toys, when it really had been his cousin's fault all along. However, Professor Snape said nothing but seemed to scrutinize Harry from head to toe, before once again sweeping down the aisle checking student's cauldrons.

There wasn't much time left in the lesson when Hermione rushed Neville off to the hospital wing. There were muffled giggles on the Slytherin side of the room that were quickly silenced with one, dark, drawn-out word from Professor Snape. "Quiet."

What little time left in the lesson was uneventful and Harry and Ron sighed in relief as they left. They had survived their first potion's lesson.

"I should have known they were winding me up," Ron said as the trudged the stairs out of the dungeons. "Snape isn't exactly what I would call nice. In fact he was practically beastly to poor Neville. But he's not nearly the ogre the twins made him out to be. He even awarded you a point and Fred says he never gives Gryffindors House points."

Harry grinned, it was the first point he had earned for his house.

Ron changed the topic suddenly when he asked, "Can I come and meet Hagrid with you? Charlie really likes him. He was always talking about him. Apparently Hagrid is as mad about dragons as Charlie is."

"That'd be great," Harry said, "because I have no idea what we would talk about."

It was getting late and Harry and Ron rushed to get back to the castle before sunset. Having tea at Hagrid's had been interesting to say the least.

Hagrid lived in a small hut on the edge of the Dark Forest full of massive Hagrid-sized furniture and an equally massive Hagrid-sized, slobbering boarhound named Fang. The tea was okay, but Harry and Ron had to slip Hagrid's rock cakes under the table to Fang because they didn't think to bring a hammer and chisel. Harry thought they had to be made from real rocks.

Ron and Hagrid happily discussed dragons for a half-hour. Hagrid regaled the same story to Ron that he had told Harry earlier that summer; how he had wanted to own a dragon his whole life.

When Hagrid had asked how their day was Ron jumped in and said that Harry made a point for Gryffindor.

"Like Potions then, Harry?" Hagrid had asked.

"It wasn't bad," Harry admitted. "Ron and I managed to manage to pass our first practical."

"Ya musta done more than tha to get points from Profess'r Snape. He don't dole House points out like sweets, ya know."

Harry shrugged. "It was only one point. Nothing spectacular."

"Don't sell yerself short, Harry. I imagine you'll be a fair hand at Potions, jus like yer mum an dad."

Then Hagrid got a funny look on his face, as if he shouldn't had said something. When Harry asked him to tell him more about his parents, Hagrid went on and on, telling him how brilliant and popular Harry's mum, Lily, had been. He must not have known much about Harry's dad, because the only bit of extra information Harry managed to wheedle out of Hagrid was that Harry's father had been brilliant with potions as well as a fine Quidditch player.

The rest of their time at Hagrid's Ron had excitingly explained the finer points of Quidditch, and Harry had to admit the game sounded brilliant. He just didn't think he'd be a good enough flyer once he was old enough to try out for the House team.

But maybe if he inherited his parent's potions skills, maybe Harry inherited his dad's flying ability too. Harry wasn't sure how these things worked, especially in the Wizarding world.

"Finally," Harry panted as he and Ron made it to the castle doors. "I didn't think we'd make it."

"Come on then, Harry," Ron said. "If we hurry we can just catch supper before it's over. I'm starving."

Ron was right; they just had enough time to tuck into a sandwich and some crisps washed down with pumpkin juice before heading back to the common room.

"Caput Draconis," Harry said to a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress.

The fat lady bade them to enter as the portrait swung open to reveal the hidden doorway to the Gryffindor common room.

Inside the common room, students were spread out in little groups, some doing homework, some playing games and some just engaged in conversation. The chatter in the room switched to eerie silence when Harry and Ron stepped into the room. Harry looked quizzically to Ron who simply shrugged gormlessly.

From the silence, there came spattered clapping, in the far corner of the room, Fred, George, and their friend, Lee Jordan, where standing and cheering for Harry.

"Bravo, bravo!" The three cheered, soon followed by others in the room.

"Three cheers for our Gryffindor hero," Fred cried out. At least Harry thought it was Fred. Ron told him that Fred was the one that usually spoke first.

George followed with, "The only Gryffindor in Hogwarts history to win House points from the dungeon bat!"

Harry could feel his face flush with embarrassment as Ron cuffed him jovially on the shoulder. "It was only one point, nothing spectacular. Hermione has already won more points in Transfiguration and Charms," Harry said.

"Don't sell yourself short, Harry, "said the twin he thought was Fred.

"Honestly—old Snape has never given points to Gryffindors before," George reiterated.

Harry was rendered speechless when Lee Jordan asked, "Yeah—you wouldn't happen to be his kid or something, would you?"

"What a rotten thing to suggest," Ron said hotly.

Another, older student backed up Ron. "The kid's right, Lee. Sure, he might look a little like Snape, but there's no need to pick on him like that. Even if you are just kidding, that's how nasty rumours get started."

"I didn't mean to take the micky out of him," Lee said defensively. "It's true. He does look like Snape."

Ron turned and looked at Harry's face. Harry could feel all sorts of eyes on him at that moment. Ron's eyes furrowed as he studied Harry's features. "I suppose he does look a little like him…" Ron said musingly.

"I can't look like Snape," Harry said. "My aunt says that I look like my dad."

"That's easily explained." Percy's haughty voice interrupted the discussion. Apparently he had been listening in on the conversation from his vantage point at a study table in the corner. "Most Pureblood families are related. It's more likely that the Snapes are an obscure branch of the Potter family. Professor Snape is probably a distant cousin of Harry's."

"Really, Percy? Do you think Professor Snape might be my cousin?" Harry didn't mean to sound as eager as he was, but the thought of having a long-lost wizarding relative excited him. Anyone would be a better relative than the Dursleys—even Snape.

"It's a distinct possibility," Percy said, sounding even more pompous than he did the first time he spoke.

"That would explain why…"
"…he gave you the point," the twins said.

"If he's related to Professor Snape and Professor Snape knows it, why didn't he say anything to Harry?" Harry hadn't noticed Hermione sitting alone in a wingback chair, listening in on the conversation with the rest of the common room.

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe it's because Harry was sorted into Gryffindor rather than Slytherin."

"He's right." This time it was a dark girl who Harry guessed was about Fred and George's age who spoke up. "A lot of families take House rivalries very seriously. The Slytherins might not like it if their Head of House was related to a Gryffindor."

"Well, they didn't seem to like it much when he awarded me a House point right after he called out Malfoy," Harry said.

They all agreed that Professor Snape's behaviour that day was a mystery, even more so than his resemblance to Harry. Harry knew deep down that somehow the two were related, and he was determined to find out how.

"I am such an idiot!" Severus berated himself as he paced to and fro in front of the headmaster's desk. "I can't believe I awarded him points or that I admonished one of my own Snakes in front of the entire class!"

"Don't belittle yourself, Severus. You're one of the most brilliant wizards I know," Albus said patronizingly while never taking is nose out of his copy of Transfiguration Today. "Harry was setting a good example to the rest of the class whilst young Mr Malfoy shot your son a two-fingered salute. If anything, you let Mr Malfoy off easy. Now would you please sit down before you wear a hole in the carpet? "

Severus plopped himself ungracefully into the uncomfortable Queen Anne's chair in front of the headmaster's elaborate desk. A tea tray popped into existence on top of the desk and Albus put his journal down and began to pour out.

"You're not the only professor who will award the boy House points," Albus said as he put Severus' customary four sugars into the cup. Albus Dumbledore was probably the only living person aware that Severus had a sweet tooth, despite the fact that Severus loathed sherbet lemons. "You are worrying over nothing, my dear boy. The other teachers report that the boy is modest, likeable, and reasonably talented. Personally I find him a bright, engaging child. I think he's going to have a successful career here at Hogwarts."

Severus reached for the offered tea. "Of course he is intelligent—and engaging. He is Lily's child, after all.

"There you go again, Severus," Albus said as he poured out his own tea. "I'm sure your genes may have contributed somewhat to the boy's intelligence."

"I'm still not certain that he is mine," Severus said softly before blowing on his tea. "I'm not certain that I even want to know if he is."

Albus offered Severus a plate of biscuits. Severus chose two shortbread with jam before the headmaster took a chocolate biscuit for himself.

"Now you are being silly," Albus said. "Of course you want to find out if he is yours. It'll eat you up inside until you do."

Severus hated to admit it, but Albus was right. Severus had to know the truth. "There's a potion that can determine maternity sometimes used by orphans trying to find their birth mothers, but it isn't as reliable in discerning paternity."

"There are a couple of charms that could be useful, but it will require something from Harry and yourself—hair, blood, or skin."

"Well, I'm not about to go about pulling the boy's hair or poking him with needles," Severus said.

"No, no, nothing so invasive, my boy. But I do think we can 'kill two birds with one stone,' as the Muggles like to say."

"What do you mean?" Severus asked.

"I'm as curious as you are to find out about Harry's home life. I have a few hours available next Saturday. What do you say that you and I visit Harry's relatives next weekend? I'm certain we can find a hair or two on his pillowcase."

Severus was certain it was easier to go into the Harry's dorm and snatch a hair from the boy's pillow that way, but Harry's pillow couldn't answer Severus' questions the way Petunia could.

Severus' eyes narrowed as he steadied his thoughts. He said darkly, "I think it's been too long since I've seen dear, old, Tuney."

Severus strode purposefully through the Floo and into the Headmaster's office. The sun had just sunk into the horizon, and through the fenestres he could see the sky stained a deep violet hue in its wake. Severus peered around the circular office then absently brushed a trace of ash from the heavy black material of his traveling cloak. Dumbledore was waiting, predictably, wearing very flamboyantly styled wizard's robes in eye-watering shades of mint green and lavender with silver trim.

"Were you simply going to blind the Dursleys in an attempt to extract information from them?" Severus asked dryly as his employer stood then walked around his ornate desk.

"Under normal circumstances, I would attempt to wear a fashionable Muggle suit when making a visit to a student's home. It tends to make the Muggle parents and guardians much more at ease," Dumbledore replied as he smiled slyly at Severus. "However, under these circumstances, I am hardly concerned about the comfort of our hosts."

"At least we agree upon something," Severus replied derisively as he watched Dumbledore pull a battered and tarnished thimble from the folds of his robes.

"We'll be traveling by Portkey tonight, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Forgive me, I know it's not your favourite means of travel, but I think we can both agree we would prefer not to be seen by a certain person leaving the castle grounds."

Instantly, Severus thought of Quinerus Quirrell as being the person Dumbledore was referring to. Quirrell was the overly anxious Defence Against the Dark Arts professor who had recently returned from Albania. Dumbledore had asked Severus just before term started to keep an eye on his strange acting colleague. Before leaving for Albania to study the Dark Arts first hand, Quirrell had been a quiet, albeit brilliant professor who seemed quite content to teach Muggle Studies. But after his return, Severus couldn't help but notice that Quirrell's behaviour became odder by the day, not to mention the clear lack of proper hygiene.

The practically unbearable stench of garlic reeked from the ridiculous purple turban Quirrell had taken to wearing over the summer. It had turned Severus off his food when he sat next to him during the Welcoming Feast. Ever since, Severus had opted to sit as far away from the pungent professor as he could possibly get.

But it was not only Quirrell's odd turban and aroma that had troubled Severus. Dumbledore was becoming more suspicious of the man after hearing Severus' reports of his odd behaviour since term began. As such, Quirrell has been kept as far away from certain important matters as humanly possible—especially concerning a particular stone.

The Headmaster tapped the thimble with his wand and the small, innocuous item began to glow blue as both men touched it. Severus felt the familiar tug of the Portkey's magic in his navel, yanking him through space and time to Privet drive. When the pulling sensation ceased, Severus quickly surveyed the surrounding area with practiced ease. There were a few habits he had learned from his days as a spy that he preferred to keep, vigilance was one of them.

A dense ground fog caused the chilly night air to feel thick and oppressive and Severus instinctively pulled the hood of his cloak up, obscuring his face. Through the mist, he could see rows of nearly identical houses on either side of the newly paved street. Severus took an instant dislike to the air of conformity, but he would expect nothing less from Petunia. She was as envious of magic as much as she feared it. It was a fear that turned to hatred of anything that she considered 'abnormal.'

Dumbledore turned to Severus. With scarcely a noticeable flick of his wand he cast a Notice-Me-Not charm over the pair of them and together they strolled down the street in their wizarding robes without concern of drawing unwanted attention from nosey neighbours.

Severus wasn't precisely sure what to expect as they strode up the walkway to the front door of Number Four. He glanced down at the flowers planted at the edge of the walk and instinctively stopped to examine the blooms.

"Lilium candidum" Severus muttered as he leaned over and plucked one of the small, white flowers and examined it closely. "The Madonna Lily."

Severus stood confused, trying to understand why Petunia would plant such a flower. The flower was a sign of purity and Severus wondered if Petunia understood its sacred meaning.

Dumbledore contemplated the flower in Severus' hand, "They certainly are flourishing. Perhaps Petunia has not entirely forgotten the sister she once loved so dearly."

"Perhaps," Severus murmured, stowing the bloom in pocket of his cloak as they continued up the walk.

Dumbledore rang the bell. The door opened almost immediately. Severus and Albus both nearly jumped back from shock. It was as if someone had been waiting for them.

Severus suppressed his urge to laugh. It was nearly humorous, the way Petunia's long, horse-like face, melted from a simpering smile into a mask of horror and disgust when she realized who was standing on her front stoop.

She quickly moved to slam the door, but Severus had been prepared for this; after all how many times had she slammed the door in his face when they were children? Severus pushed the door open with brute strength, forcing Petunia to take a stumbling step backward across the floor of the foyer.

"It has been a long time, Tuney. I see the years have not been kind."

Petunia let out a soft squeak as she gaped at them, raising her hand and pointing her bony index finger at Severus. "You have no right to be here!"

"On the contrary," Dumbledore replied calmly. "As the Executor of Harry's trust, from which you receive a handsome sum every month for his upkeep, I have every right to be here. And since I have recently determined that Severus has a vested interest in Harry's wellbeing, I thought it prudent that he should come along."

Petunia stared gormlessly at the two wizards as she unconsciously backed away from them. After a few awkward seconds, it was clear she wasn't about to practice simple etiquette and invite them into the house.

"Let's assume you have invited us into your sitting room," Dumbledore said almost cheerfully as they moved over the threshold and proceeded into the painfully neat house.

Petunia finally moved because she had no other option and led them into the sitting room. The over-decorated room was the most awful shade of salmon Severus had ever laid his eyes on. There were fussy, little pillows scattered everywhere and more tacky nick-knacks than he cared to count. What was most noticeable to Severus, however- in a room that screamed to be noticed, was the complete lack of evidence that Harry had ever existed inside this house.

There were countless photographs of a hulking mass of what vaguely resembled a blonde boy placed strategically over every flat surface in the room, yet not one of Harry. On a small table next to the entrance was an unopened post written in unmistakable child's handwriting from Smelting's Academy. Severus had heard of the boarding school. Good. They would only have to deal with adults this night.

Severus noticed an obese, walrus-looking man sunk into the couch. He assumed it was Petunia's husband, Vernon Dursley. Lily had described him to Severus once and once again, Lily had been unfailingly kind in her description.

Petunia spun about and faced them. Her pinched face was even paler with barely contained anger. She did not invite them to sit down, which Severus expected; she wouldn't want their 'freakishness' sullying her over-priced, fussy-looking furniture.

"Pet, who was at the door?" Dursley asked, not bothering to he look up from his evening paper as they entered the room. Only when Petunia failed to answer, he finally removed his bulbous nose from the paper. Dursley's face immediately turned a mottled puce as he saw the two wizards standing before him. He threw his paper to the floor and struggled to heft his considerable weight to his feet.

Spittle flew from Dursley's moustache as he bellowed, "I meant to be shed of freaks and degenerates when we sent the boy to that school! Now get out my house now!"

"Petunia, I think it would be wise if we were to all sit down. We have a few matters we need to discuss with you regarding young Harry Potter," Dumbledore said pleasantly, completely ignoring the Dursley patriarch's vitriol.

Dumbledore conjured two brightly coloured, comfortable-looking armchairs for himself and Severus. He then flicked a wand in Dursley's direction, and the man was shoved back down onto sofa as though by an invisible hand.

The disgustingly obese Muggle appeared overtly enraged and frightened simultaneously. He amazingly made no sound or movement, but simply stared at the two wizards until Severus thought his eyes would surely pop out of their sockets.

Dumbledore serenely rested his elbows on the arms of the conjured, overstuffed chair and steepled his fingers together, his wand at the ready in his lap.

"Petunia, we have corresponded and you already know Severus," Dumbledore said pleasantly, gesturing to the sofa. "Please sit."

Petunia obliged, and quietly slid onto the sofa beside her stunned husband, neither daring to utter a word. Vernon Dursley's mottled, red face had drained of colour so rapidly, Severus thought he might faint dead away at any moment. Severus noticed Dumbledore, meanwhile, was eyeing both of the Muggles quite keenly.

Dursley's face, which had gone frighteningly pale, now began to colour again so rapidly Severus wondered if he could possibly burst an important blood vessel. Severus sorely hoped that was not the case, for if this shapeless mass posing as a Muggle had hurt Harry, a stroke would be too merciful an end when Severus could think of one or two old Death Eater party tricks that would more than fit the bill.

Dursley leaned forward menacingly, his fat jowls quivering with barely contained anger. "Now see here," he spat, as he lumbered to his feet, clearly taking the offensive. "We didn't ask to be saddled with that boy! You abandoned the little brat on our doorstep in the middle of the night, with just a blasted note. Now ten years later you appear at my house, at ungodly hours and attack me. You have some nerve to ask about him now!"

Dumbledore reclined serenely in his chair as he listened Dursley's rant. When the fat lump was finished, Dumbledore leaned forward and said diplomatically, "It seems that I was sorely mistaken in placing Harry in the home of his mother's only sister. If you were not agreeable to the arrangement, I left a means for Petunia to contact me. Other arrangements could have been made."

"Although I believe I am safe in assuming," he continued, levelling an icy glare at the Muggles. "That the afore mentioned money allotted to you each month for his upkeep was a large factor in you deciding to keep him."

Severus glanced over and saw Petunia blanch and clutch a shaky hand to her bony chest. What little colour that remained in her face faded until the skin that was stretched over her cheek bones seemed completely bloodless and waxy.

"I see," Dumbledore acknowledged calmly, inclining his head. It took every bit of Severus' Occulmency skills to compartmentalize his emotions, which was the only thing preventing him from leaping to his feet and playing some of the Dark Lord's favourite games. As it was, his fists were clenched so tight, they were aching.

It was then, that Petunia seemed to have gathered some of her sanctimonious defiance that Severus remembered so well. "If you were so interested in the boy, why did you wait until now to show up on my doorstep," she said heatedly.

Petunia quickly jutted her chin in Severus' direction. "And what of him? 'Vested interest,' indeed," she said as she looked down her nose at Severus contemptuously. "It's been obvious whose sprog the boy was since he was two! Where have you been all of this time while I've been feeding your bastard and putting a roof over his head…Sevie?"

"How dare…!"

"Sit down, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted with deceptive calmness. Severus slowly lowered himself back into his chair, never taking his hateful glare off Petunia, and never taking his grip off the wand concealed in his left cloak pocket.

"In all these years, Petunia, never once did you voice your complaints to me over the situation," Dumbledore said. "And I blame myself for trusting that your better nature would welcome Harry as part of your family."

Severus thought that at least Petunia had the grace to look embarrassed whilst her husband looked as though he were about to blow a major artery again.

Dumbledore continued, "As for Severus, however, he has only become recently aware that it is possible that he may be Harry's father. That is why we are here. We don't wish to say anything to Harry unless we are absolutely certain. We can perform an easy…test, to determine paternity, but we need something of Harry's—a hair from a brush or pillow, perhaps."

"Just one moment," Petunia said in a clipped tone.

Both Severus and Dumbledore followed Petunia with their eyes as she bounded up the stairs in a very unladylike manner which was completely out of her character. Frankly, Severus had no idea the woman could move so quickly.

"Wait!" Dursley said, becoming suddenly more animated. "You mean that you want to take the boy?" He asked, looking directly to Severus. "Where do we sign?"

Severus could feel the hair rise on the back of his neck. "You mean to tell me, that after ten years of…caring for the boy, you are so eager to foist him off on a complete stranger?"

"If you're his father, then the boy ought to be with you." If it weren't for Dursley's contemptuous delivery, Severus would contend it was the only reasonable thing the lump had said during their entire visit.

"And if I'm not?"

Before Dursley's bloated face could answer, Petunia scurried back down the stairs.

Petunia practically shoved a small, bristled brush under Severus' nose.

"Will this work?" she sneered.

The brush was obviously old and so battered, the bristles practically laid flat. There was black hair matted inside that was too short and fine to belong to the lummox sitting before him. As Petunia and their spawn were blonde, the hair most likely belonged to Harry.

To the shock of their hosts, without a word, Severus pulled his wand from his pocket, and produced a white kerchief from thin air. He wrapped the brush in the cloth then tucked it in his robe pocket.

"Yes, Petunia, that should do quite nicely," Dumbledore said amicably enough, though not bothering to supress his grin as Petunia and her whale blustered over such offensive magic being used in their house.

While Dursley turned red trying to voice his outrage, Petunia shrieked, "How dare you use such unnaturalness in my house! Get out!"

Severus and Dumbledore were already rising from the couch as Petunia begun her tirade. Obviously Petunia was not as intimidated by Severus' magic as she was the headmaster's.

"It just so happens, we were just leaving," Severus said coolly.

Petunia was practically on Severus' heals with her 'brave' husband right behind her as Severus and the headmaster made for the front door. As they left the sitting room and entered the hall, something unseen struck Severus as they passed the door of the small broom cupboard under the stairs.

It obviously wasn't Severus' imagination. Albus had stopped to stare at the little cupboard as well. There was the unmistakable vibe of magic practically pounding on the door.

"What is in there?" Severus asked darkly as he pointed at the little door. Something about it made Severus' insides turn. Perhaps it had something to do with the padlock.

"Nothing!" Petunia said too quickly. "It's a broom cupboard. That's where I keep my cleaning supplies," she added nervously.

"Under lock and key?" Severus queried again as he took a step towards the cupboard. He was going to see what these two Muggles had to hide.

Before he could take a second step, Dursley shoved his wife out of his way and used his bulk to usher Severus and Albus towards the door. "Get out!" he thundered. "There is nothing in there of your concern!"

It happened all too quickly, and both wizards were out the threshold before they knew it. "Don't come back without those custody papers!" Dursley bellowed once more before slamming the door in their faces.

For a moment, Severus and Albus looked at each other with a mix of shock and concern. Neither of them seemed to care that a light popped on at the Muggle's house across the street. Let the Dursley's explain their strange visitors to the neighbours.

"You felt it too, didn't you, Albus?"

"Yes," Albus replied gravely. "That cupboard has been exposed to Magic—often and for quite some time."

Damn the Muggles. Severus wanted some explanations and he would get them even if he had to force his way back into the blasted house. Severus reached for his wand, but his hand was stayed by the headmaster's.

"Come with me," Albus said as he grabbed Severus by the crook of the arm and led him away from the house. They walked a couple of blocks in the dark, until they came to an empty playground away from prying eyes.

Severus didn't want to Portkey back to Hogwarts. He wanted to have a go at Dursley's now.

"We're not leaving! Damn it, Albus," Severus said as he shook off Dumbledore's hand. "You know as well as I that the only way that cupboard could have absorbed so much magic…."Severus was so exasperated he almost couldn't finish his sentence. He finally just shouted what he and the headmaster already knew. "They obviously locked the boy in there as punishment. Just because Harry couldn't help being a Wizard!"

"I know," the headmaster replied calmly, though it was obvious he was as angry as Severus. "But we cannot lose our advantage now. Harry is no ordinary boy and biological father or not, if wind of this gets out to the Ministry before you have legal custody, it could go very bad for Harry. This must be done delicately."

"But, Albus, are they to just get away with this? They obviously abused the boy! This could just be the beginning!"

"Believe me, Severus, if our suspicions are true, there will be justice for Harry," Dumbledore said as he reached in his pocket for the Portkey again. "I just pray that paternity test comes out positive, or else things are going to get sticky rather quick."

Severus didn't bother to answer, because he knew there was no way he was going to win this argument tonight. But still, as he placed his finger on the glowing, blue thimble, the pull of magical transport was not the only thing that tugged on his gut and made him feel like he swallowed a ton of lead.

Harry told Ron all about becoming Gryffindor's new Seeker during super in the Great Hall and Harry was happy to see that his new best friend was chuffed for him.

"But first-years never get to join the House teams," Ron said in awe.

"I know," Harry said as he jabbed his fork into a large banger. He took a too-big bite and nearly choked it down so he could finish what he had to say. "Oliver Wood told me this afternoon. We've already sorta had our first Quidditch lesson." Harry took a large swallow of pumpkin juice. "But don't tell anyone yet. Wood wants to keep it secret until my first official practice next week."

Ron couldn't answer because he was too busy trying to swallow a piece of chicken, so he just nodded his head vigorously in agreement. When Ron did finally manage to swallow his food, he turned to Harry and said "I wonder how Professor McGonagall got permission from your relatives so quickly. Didn't you say they were Muggles?"

Harry's fork stopped in mid-air. Ron was right. Even in primary, no one was ever allowed to try out for a team or go on a school outing without the express permission of a parent or guardian. Harry's relatives hated magic. They hated him. The Dursley's had never given permission for Harry to do anything fun at school. He was always left behind during school outings and he was never allowed to try out for a team. Who could have given him permission to play Quidditch?

"Hey!" Harry said, turning excitedly towards Ron.

Ron swallowed a mouthful of food hard and looked at Harry with expectation. "What?" he asked.

Harry said, "I just remembered. The Headmaster told Professor McGonagall there was someone at the school they could ask." Harry looked up at the teacher's tables and thought about Professor Snape. The dark professor was eating and seemed to take no notice of Harry. Harry leaned over to his best mate and whispered. "You don't suppose it was Professor Snape, do you?"

Ron looked up at the teacher's table as well and seemed to consider the austere Potion's Master. "I don't know, Harry," he said sceptically. "I know he's not as bad as everyone says, but do you really think he'd give you permission to play against his own House?"

Harry's heart sank a little. Ron was right. There was no way Snape would give Harry permission to play against his House. But if it wasn't Snape, who was it?

Harry wondered which teacher could possibly be his mysterious relative, but nobody else seemed any more likely than Snape.

Harry could barely pay attention in his classes the next day as he contemplated who his anonymous benefactor might be. Even Professor Sprout threatened to dock Harry a point if he didn't get his head out of the clouds and back into the greenhouse.

His secret was almost let out of the bag when on their way back up to the Great Hall for super, Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George came up to congratulate Harry on making the team.

"If you're as good as Wood says you are...," said Fred or George. "We have a real chance winning the Cup this year," his double finished.

Apparently, Wood couldn't keep his own secret. If the twins knew he was Gryffindor's new Seeker, surely it wouldn't be long before the rest of the school knew.

"Not so loud," Harry said with a panicked whisper as he looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was in listening distance. Luckily everyone was more interested in getting to where they had to go than to pay attention to Harry. "Wood doesn't want anyone to know yet."

"Don't worry, Harry-your secret is as safe as Gringott's," the twins assured him as they raced off to wherever they had to go. Harry thought he heard one of them say something about a secret passage.

As Harry watched the twins leave, Ron turned to him and said, "At least they didn't tell you horror stories like people vanishing for months on end or how it's been years since someone d..."

Harry never did hear how long it's been since someone did what, because just at that point Ron was interrupted.

"There you are, Potter!"

Harry and Ron turned. They both knew that contemptuous voice. Sure enough, there was Draco Malfoy flanked by his two sycophants, Crabb and Goyle. Harry wondered if Hogwarts had any educational standards at all when it came to picking its students. Crabb and Goyle just stood there looking gormless next to Malfoy. Harry doubted the two could read. Neither of them spoke much.

Goyle was the largest of the three. At the age of eleven he looked as though he could squash any third-year and would be more than happy to do it if Malfoy told him to. Crabb reminded Harry of a fatter, meaner Dudley which he hadn't thought possible until he first laid eyes on Crabb during the train ride from London.

Malfoy wasted no time in having a go at Harry about getting in trouble during the flying lesson. "I thought that old cat, McGonagall, would have had you on the train back to London by now. Guess you got off easy. What's she got you doing instead, Potter? Scrubbing the boy's toilet with your own toothbrush?"

Harry shrugged indifferently. It was none of Malfoy's business if McGonagall punished Harry or not, and he certainly didn't want the smarmy Slytherin to know about his appointment to the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Not yet, anyway.

Harry's nonchalant reaction seemed to take some of Malfoy's fight away until Ron's ginger temper reared its head. "You shouldn't try to think so much, Malfoy. You might end up hurting yourself," Ron said derisively.

Draco's eyes narrowed with unfettered contempt. "That's it, Potter. I challenge you to a Wizard's duel. Crabb here will be my second. Weaselby, the blood-traitor, can be yours."

Normally, Harry would have backed away from Malfoy's challenge. He couldn't understand how Ron's insult equated to a duel with him. Malfoy must have been looking for any reason to challenge Harry. Under ordinary circumstances, Harry would have considered whatever animosity there was between Ron and Malfoy to be their business. But Harry didn't like the way Malfoy glared at Ron and called his new best friend a blood-traitor. Ron's face had turned as red as his hair with anger. Harry wasn't even sure what a blood-traitor was, but from Ron's reaction it obviously wasn't nice. Plus, he didn't want to look like a coward in front of the school bullies. He might as well put a target on his back. Before he knew what he was saying he heard his own voice say, "You're on!"

A sly grin came across Malfoy's face as he looked up to his two goons. "Fine! Tonight at midnight in the trophy room. That room is always unlocked."

Before Harry could protest the time, or even had a chance to ask the Slytherin how he knew the room would be unlocked, Malfoy and his entourage stalked away. Harry sighed. He was committed now. He looked to Ron and regretted his own thoughtlessness. "I'm sorry I got you involved, Ron. I don't even know what a Wizard's duel is."

"That's okay," Ron said as he glared down the direction Malfoy and his gang had left. "I wouldn't let you go by yourself. I would have offered to be your second, anyway."

"What's a second?" Harry asked as they began to continue their way to the Great Hall.

"Well...er...a second is there to take your place if you get killed in the duel."

Harry stopped and looked at his friend with disbelief. "If I get killed?!"

"No, no," Ron assured Harry. "Only grown up wizards or witches get seriously hurt in a duel. Kids can't do the really dangerous spells. The worst Malfoy can do is give you zits. And the school matron can cure those quick with a potion."

"Whew," Harry sighed in relief. "What happens if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Chuck it on the ground and tackle him," Ron replied with a laugh.

During super, Harry and Ron delved excitingly through their spell books, trying to come up with a strategy for the upcoming duel.

They finished their super and got up from the table. They were in a hurry to get back to Gryffindor Tower so they could practice their spell casting. Harry heard quickening footsteps behind them. Someone had followed them out of the Great Hall. Harry knew it was a girl because he could hear the distinct sound of her Mary Janes clicking on the stone floor.

"You really shouldn't go mucking about in the castle at night. If you get caught, you will cost us house points. It's not a very smart thing to do," Hermione Granger hissed at them as she picked up her pace and walked past them. Harry figured she must have overheard him and Ron talking during super.

Harry watched her pass and for a fleeting moment thought she might have a point.

"Don't listen to her," Ron said as he took Harry by the arm and pulled him along. "She's a girl. What does she know about these things?"

Much later that night, Harry lay in bed thinking about the events of the previous days. It was as close to perfect that he had ever remembered having it. He had made friends, he had a very soft warm bed to sleep in, and he could have his fill of any food that struck his fancy at meal times. For as long as he could remember, Harry had been consigned to a lumpy mattress in a dank, dusty cupboard and threadbare blankets. The bed he had been given in Dudley's second bedroom recently wasn't much of a step up. And meals...well, he was lucky if he had three full meals a day. Harry's aunt and uncle always found some fabricated reason or another to deny him at least one meal a day. Snacks and sweets were practically unheard of for Harry.

As Harry laid there and thought of his good fortune, he smiled when he remembered the generic duelling advice that Ron had spent most of the evening lecturing him about. Truth be told, Harry did not want to break the rules or get himself and his new best friend in trouble. However, whenever he thought about facing Malfoy's smug face in the morning at breakfast, Harry could already hear the Slytherin boy crowing about how cowardly 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' turned out.

"It's almost time," Ron muttered from his bed. "We don't want to be late."

They pulled on their robes and trainers and grabbed their wands. Harry was glad the castle was made of stone. They didn't have to worry about creaking floors as they crept as stealthily as cat burglars across the crimson and gold carpet in the dorm room. Slowly, Ron opened the door. He and Harry both stopped in panic and held their breath as the old brass hinges squeaked. They looked back and only released their breath when it was obvious none of their dorm mates so much as stirred. Sean, Dean and Neville were still fast asleep. Neville had returned to the common room hours ago after Madam Pomfrey had fixed his broken arm in a thrice.

Silently, Harry led their way down the stairs. It wasn't easy navigating the stairs in the dead of night. None of the sconces were lit and the way was as dark as pitch. Harry wished they had already learned how to light their way with their wands, or that they at least had a small flashlight. When they finally reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry stopped to look around the common room. He let his eyes adjust to the scant moonlight shining through the tower window. No one was there.

"Oof... sorry," Ron said as quietly as he could. He had bumped into Harry at the bottom of the stairs, nearly knocking Harry off his feet in the process.

Harry regained his balance quickly. "It's okay," he whispered. He looked around once more and said, "The coast is clear. Let's go."

They were nearly to the rounded portrait hole, when a dark figure stepped from the shadows. At first, Harry thought it might have been one of the many school ghosts. But it wasn't a ghost. To his annoyance, it was Hermione Granger again. She was wearing a housecoat over her night clothes and her bushy hair was wilder than usual.

"Go back to bed. This doesn't concern you," Ron snapped crossing his arms.

The two boys moved past her, but she didn't give up.

"It concerns me when you get docked House points." Harry and Ron ignored her. She followed them outside the portrait hole despite her state of undress.

"I'll tell your brother," Hermione said in a hushed threat as the portrait door closed behind her. She turned to go back into the common room, but the Fat Lady was gone.

"Doesn't look like you're telling anyone," Harry said slyly, arching an eyebrow. "You'll be in trouble as well."

Harry and Ron began walking toward the trophy room. Hermione marched along behind them.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ron asked incredulously. "You're not even dressed."

"I'm coming with you, of course," she said determinably. "Someone has to be the responsible party, and if you get caught- which you will, I can hopefully explain and try to keep us out of detention."

"Here. At least put this on!" Ron pulled off his robe and threw it over Hermione's shoulders, leaving him in his jeans and jumper. "You're going to embarrass us in front of the Slytherins dressed like that. It's indecent."

Harry noticed that Hermione blushed as she fastened the hooks and eyes of Ron's robe over her housecoat. The sleeves were long, and the robe fell over her bed slippers, dragging the floor by about an inch. But at least it was difficult to see she was in her bedclothes. She mumbled an embarrassed, "Thanks," and the trio continued on their way.

Harry and Ron, with Hermione tagging along after them, quietly made their way to the trophy room. Hermione would occasionally whisper directions through the corridors or argue with the Harry and Ron about proper duelling etiquette. She had read about it in a book.

As they rounded the corner that led to the Trophy Room, Harry thrust out his arm and stopped Ron and Hermione in their tracks.

"What is it?" Ron asked with a hushed voice.

Harry looked back at his companions. "It's Peeves. He's circling around in front of the door."

Ron and Hermione peeked around the corner with Harry. The apparition of a squat little man with a bell hat and orange bow tie seemed to be busying himself around the door. They couldn't tell what he was doing, but he seemed to be humming a rather satisfied tune.

"I don't like this," Hermione said in a shaky whisper.

"Me neither," Ron unexpectedly agreed.

"Malfoy and his friends must not be here yet," Harry said. "Wouldn't Peeves be pranking them if they were?"

"Unless the Slytherins encouraged him to prank us first," Ron suggested.

Hermione chimed in, "It must be a trap. I bet you're right, Harry. They aren't even here."

Harry closed his eyes in frustration. It seemed as if he had dragged Ron and Hermione out of bed and risked detention for nothing. But, what if Malfoy and his gang were just running late? Harry's better judgment told him that they should go back to bed, but he didn't want to be branded a coward if the Slytherins showed up and he wasn't there.

Harry sighed heavily. "What do we do now?"

"I would suggest that you go back to bed."

Harry turned with a start as Hermione squeaked and Ron yelped. Towering over them in robes as dark as the shadows, stood Professor Snape. His arms were crossed and he had a very annoyed look on his face. Then again, Snape always had an annoyed look on his face.

Harry was the first to try to speak, but he could only stutter, "I...I...I...."

Harry's heart sank. Professor Snape was the last teacher he wanted to get in trouble with, and it wasn't because he was afraid of him like the other students. Harry just didn't want to disappoint the man. From the stern glare coming from the professor, Harry knew he had done just that.

"Speak up, Mr Potter," Professor Snape said darkly. "Cat got your tongue? Now tell me-why would three young Gryffindors, such as yourselves, be strolling about the castle at midnight?"

Harry desperately searched his mind for a plausible answer. Ron seemed to be struggling just as much as he was. To Harry's astonishment, it was Hermione who spoke up with a halfway believable explanation.

"I was sleepwalking, sir" she spouted. "Ron and Harry were studying late when they saw me leave the tower and came out after me."

Harry gulped as Snape raised an eyebrow. He looked over them suspiciously, taking notice of Ron's overly-large robes on Hermione. They were slightly open were one could just see her bedclothes. For a fleeting moment, Harry thought Hermione's explanation might work. "I see," the professor said slowly. "Would anyone care to explain why you are heading in the opposite direction from Gryffindor Tower?"

"We were locked out," Ron said, quickly expanding on Hermione's lie. "The Fat Lady disappeared and we were just trying to find the Headmaster's office so he could let us back in." Ron tried to give Snape an innocent look, but to Harry it looked unconvincing.

For a second, Harry thought it had worked because Snape gave a slight nod, as if he believed Ron, but his hopes deflated quickly. "Bravo, Mr Weasley, Ms Granger. Your quick and plausible explanations are worthy of a Slytherin, but a lie is still a lie."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione dropped their mouths at once. Harry couldn't believe it. They were in big trouble. He just knew it. They had been caught lying to a teacher. True-Harry hadn't done the lying, but he had dragged his classmates out well after curfew, and he said nothing to contradict Ron and Hermione's quickly concocted story.

"You see, I had overheard Mr Malfoy and his friends fabricate their little plot, and just as expected from a Gryffindor, you fell for it." Professor Snape tutted, "Typical."

"Please, sir," Harry pleaded. "It's my fault. It's because of me Ron and Hermione are out here. Ron wasn't about to let me go alone and Hermione tried to stop us when she got locked out."

An odd look came over Professor Snape as he looked down at Harry with his fathomless, black eyes. Harry thought he might be debating something, but there was something else behind them that seemed sad.

"Be that as it may, Mr Potter, you are still out of bed after curfew," Snape said. "I'm afraid that it's fifteen points from Gryffindor and a week's detention for each of you is in order."

Harry and Ron groaned. Hermione looked as if she might faint. But Harry thought that in the long run, they might have got off easy considering who it was doling out the punishment.

Harry hung his head in shame. It was the first time he had been in trouble at Hogwarts and it was with Professor Snape. He would have rather endured Malfoy's taunting.

Harry felt a gentle hand push into his back. "Come along, you three. Your night time adventuring has come to an end."

Professor Snape frog-marched Harry, Ron, and Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower. The corridors were dark and empty, and their footfall echoed off the stone walls. It only added to Harry's sensation of impending doom.

When they reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, the fat lady in the pink dress had returned to her portrait. "Oh, my!" She exclaimed. "What are you three doing out here so long after curfew?"

Professor Snape looked down at Ron grimly and said, "It seems as though Mr Weasley told me at least one truth. My question is, where were you when they sneaked out?"

The Fat Lady looked abashed when she said to Snape, "Well...I...It's none of your business where I've been!"

Without hearing the password, the Fat Lady allowed the portrait to fly open. It opened with such force, it banged as it bounced off the stone wall.

Snape ushered Harry and his friend through the revealed passage while he remained outside. "Expect my owl tomorrow morning detailing your punishments. If I catch you out of bed again, you'll end up spending your evenings with Mr Filch for a month. Now straight to bed with you."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all murmured a dejected, "Yes, sir." Before the portrait shut, Harry turned back and said, "Thank you for walking us back, Sir."

Professor Snape's face was still and unreadable when he answered, "You're welcome, Harry."

The portrait door clicked shut and the passageway was dark again, but this time the sconces had flickered on, as if expecting them.

"I hate that we got in trouble, but at least we won't have to spend detention with Filch," Ron said with relief.

"I can't believe we lied to a teacher," Hermione said in exasperation. "We're lucky we weren't expelled."

Slowly they began climbing the spiralling staircase that led to the dorm rooms.

"I bet the teachers are used to kids lying to them all the time to stay out of trouble," Ron said.

"Still, it's bad enough," Harry said. "Everyone's going to be pretty miffed when they see fifteen points gone at breakfast."

"Well, it could have been worse," Hermione said as they stopped at the top of the landing. She unhooked Ron's borrowed robe and handed it back to him. "If it were anyone else but you, Harry, it would have been."

Ron looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione with confusion. Harry gave Hermione the same look. "Why do you say that?" Harry asked.

"Because he called you by name."

Harry stood dumbfounded as Hermione turned and made her way to her dorm.

Ron slapped Harry on the shoulder and turned him around, "She's got a point, you know," Ron said as he led an astonished Harry back to their room.

"Harry! Get up!"

Harry yawned, stretched and blindly reached for his glasses on the side table. He slipped them on his face and the fogginess in his brain disappeared along with the fogginess of his vision. He looked around the red and gold decorated room. Ron was at the foot of his bed.

Neville, Seamus, and Dean, Ron and Harry's other dorm mates, had also been roused out of their sleep. Something flew across the room from Seamus' direction and hit Ron squarely in the back of his head. It wasn't a very hard hit, so Harry figured it for dirty socks.

"Knock it off, will you, Weasley?" Seamus said groggily before burying his head back under his pillow.

"But look!" Ron said excitedly. "Harry's got a package and it's not even time for owl posts."

"I've got a package?" Harry said as he fumbled with his feet to dig a slipper from under the bed. "Who'd send me a package?" Harry could have kicked himself for making that statement, buthis foot was too busy searching for his slipper. He didn't want anyone to know how completely rotten his home life was.

Thankfully, Ron's answer helped smooth over Harry's slip of the tongue, if anyone had bothered to notice. "I don't know who sent it Harry, but I think it's a broom."

Everyone in the room was fully awake now. Harry forgot his bed slippers and ran to the foot of his bed, where indeed, laying across the top of his trunk was a package wrapped in plain brown parcel paper. The shape of the broomstick was so obvious Harry wondered why anyone bothered to wrap it at all.

"Wow, Harry. The headmaster let your family send you a broom," Dean said, apparently thinking he was stating the obvious.

"I thought first years couldn't have brooms," Neville said as he looked warily at the magical means of transportation. Neville wasn't very good with brooms.

"Who cares," Seamus interjected. "The headmaster obviously favours Gryffindor."

Harry shook his head as he gazed at the package in wonder. "It couldn't have been them." Harry was almost afraid to open it. It was too good to be true.

"Open it, Harry," Ron said as he practically bounced on his heels. "Let's see what kind of broom it is."

Harry was smiling so hard, his face felt warm. He ripped open the plain brown paper like it was Christmas. In fact, it was better than Christmas because he couldn't remember ever having a proper Christmas present his whole life.

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room by the chorus of awestruck, 'wow's.

"A Nimbus 2000!" Ron exclaimed. "That's the fastest racing broom in the world!"

"Who sent it?" Neville asked excitedly. "Is there a card?"

Harry rummaged through the torn wrappings and found a folded piece of paper. He had to strain a bit to read the spikey scrawl.

"It says to be sure to practice proper broom safety." Definitely couldn't have been the Dursleys. They would have reminded Harry to be sure to fall off.

Just as Harry finished reading the note aloud, everyone in the room jumped with fright as another package landed in front of them with a loud 'BANG'.

"What the hell was that?" Seamus gasped as he tried to catch his breath.

Dean picked up the small, rectangular package and read the note. "It's another package for you, Harry," He offered the package to Harry. "I think it's a book."

"Thanks, Dean," Harry said as he took the package. It was indeed a book. He ripped it open as vigorously as he opened the broom. He ogled at the gold lettering of the title, Quidditch Through the Ages.

Ron echoed Harry's thoughts when he barely breathed over his shoulder, "Brilliant."

"It had to have been a professor that sent these to you, Harry," Neville said.

"Why's that, Neville?" Seamus queried.

"Because of the way the book appeared. They were delivered by house elves—not owls. My Uncle Alfie has a house elf. Hogwarts is a huge castle. They have loads of them. They only answer to the professors. Gran told me so."

Ron was the only one who nodded in agreement while everyone else just stared in confusion. But Ron was the only other boy in the room who grew up totally in the wizarding world. Everyone else, even Seamus grew up with Muggles and had never even heard of a house elf.

Harry mused aloud, "So who sent it?"

Harry left his broom safely in his dorm. He didn't want the rest of the school to know he had it and his dorm mates promised to keep his secret. Harry was afraid that if he started to show it off, he whoever sent him the broom might view him as irresponsible and take it away.

Harry and his friends spoke in hushed whispers at the breakfast table and by the time they were done, they had decided that it must have been Professor McGonagall who sent it. Even if there was a slight chance that Harry was related to Professor Snape, the head of Slytherin House surely wouldn't gift Harry with a weapon to beat his own team. Besides, McGonagall was the Deputy Head Mistress. Certainly she could make exceptions to the rules if she wanted too.

As he walked with Ron back up the common room to retrieve his book, Harry had thought a lot about Professor Snape. In fact, he had been thinking a lot about Professor Snape lately, especially since his detention the other night. The professor had said that there was a possibility that they were related but he never admitted to being Harry's silent benefactor. But someone had given Harry permission to play Quidditch. If Professor Snape was related to him, that meant Harry might have two relatives here at Hogwarts. Harry knew Professor Snape didn't have the best reputation amongst the students, but Harry thought it was way overblown. Sure, Professor Snape was strict, but he didn't seem at all nasty—at least not to Harry. Professor Snape was turning out to be a lot better option than the Dursleys ever were, as far as relatives were concerned. He didn't answer Harry with a backhand when he asked impertinent questions. Harry was actually surprised that Professor Snape was so nice when Harry asked if they were related. He wasn't expecting a full-out rant lack Uncle Vernon, but he wasn't expecting nice either.

At the rate things were going, Harry would never find out who his secret relative was. He had been excited to know that there was someone out there besides the Dursleys he could call family. But the more the mystery cousin, or aunt, or uncle, or whatever eluded him, the more frustrated Harry became and the sadder he became thinking about it. Why didn't they come forward? Didn't they want to know Harry? Didn't they want to spend time with him? Why didn't they want to love him?

Halloween Night

It was Halloween night and everyone was looking forward to the big Halloween feast. That is everyone except for a little dark-haired eleven-year-old with a curious scar on his head. No. Harry wasn't looking forward to the feast at all. How could he?

Everyone else had done nothing all day but talk about the succulent dinner and endless sweets that waited in the Great Hall. But Harry cared nothing for it. It was that lack of caring that Harry found immensely unfair. Harry had never been allowed to indulge in anything his entire life. Neither succulent feasts nor endless sweets. He should be really looking forward to stuffing his face as much as Ron or his other dorm mates. But all Harry could think about today was the anniversary of his parent's death. The thought of rich food and sugary treats was enough to make Harry feel physically ill. Since he didn't want to face a whole slew of classmates…

"Come on, Harry. It'll be fun," Ron tried to reason.

Harry stood looking over the still black, lake as he peeled the mossy bark off an old stick. He didn't know what Ron and Hermione were up to behind him. He blankly watched as some Hufflepuff students tried to gain the attention of the giant squid on the opposite shore.

"I know you don't want to go," Hermione said. "But I think it might be mandatory." Hermione had taken to hanging out with Harry and Ron since their detention with Professor Snape. In their own ways the boys had come to appreciate the opinionated girl's intelligence. Harry found her to be a voice of reason. Ron had found her to be a great help with homework. Hermione had found two friends that tolerated her bossiness to a degree, but reined her in when her outspokenness bordered on social awkwardness. Although Ron and Harry were a little leery when she began to join them for meals and walk with them to classes, they had both come to like her and now their duo had become a trio.

"I don't think it's right to celebrate when my parents…" Harry's thoughts trailed off as he snapped his rotted stick in two and lobbed half of it into the lake.

His frustration was stinging at him like a swarm of bees. He had lost every chance he had for a normal life the night his parents were killed. They died saving him and Harry didn't think it was right to have 'fun'. There was a part of him, deep down that wished he could have fun like everyone else, but there was a bigger part of him that felt that to do so would dishonour his mum and dad's memory. Not that Harry had any personal memories of his parents that he could recall. It's not fair! Harry thought as he threw the other half of his stick with all his might.

He turned around to see his friends sitting on a mossy log. Ron sat slumped over, staring at his fingers as if were searching for something to say, afraid to look up at Harry. Hermione looked at Harry thoughtfully and sighed. "How about we stay for just a little while? We can sit close to the door and slip out. Maybe we can go to the library and do some research on your parents. That would be a proper way to honour them and we might find some clues as to who your wizarding relatives are."

Harry felt a great weight lift from his shoulders when he thought of Hermione's idea and smiled at his new friend. "Thanks, Hermione. That's brilliant!"

Ron looked up warily at the girl sitting next to him, as if he wasn't sure it was Hermione sitting next to him or an imp. "I thought you said we had to…"

"Come off it, Ronald," Hermione said as she knuckle-punched Ron's shoulder. "Sometimes you have to break the rules if it's for a good cause. And this is a good cause."

Ron rubbed his shoulder but his grin met eyes as he looked up at Harry. He was obviously warming up to Hermione despite himself. "I think she's got the right idea, Harry. We can grab some sweets before we leave too!"

Hermione looked at Ron unbelievingly. Ron gave her a chary side-glance and said. "So we'll have energy to do research. You know—for medicinal purposes."

Harry laughed. It was the first time he laughed all day and it felt good.

Ron had been right. The Halloween Feast was really something to see. Lit Jack-o-Lanterns floated throughout the room, seemingly open to the full moon and starry sky. Live bats flitted about the Great Hall. The tables were over-loaded with sweets and pasties of every kind imaginable and every ghost in the castle seemed to be in attendance. It was magical, chilling, and wondrous all at the same time—and Harry had no interest in any of it.

Along with Ron and Hermione, Harry sat at the end of the table closest to the exit. Harry made a show to wave at Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape as he entered the hall with the crowd of students. Harry was too far away to actually see any expressions on his professor's faces but they both seemed to nod formally and return to whatever business had occupied their attention before.

Harry really didn't have much of an appetite, but Hermione had talked him into taking a nibble or two from his Shepherd's pie. Despite Hermione's protest, Ron managed to pocket some lollies and pasties. He was sure Harry would be hungry latter. They had only been at the feast for about fifteen minutes when they decided that everyone was too involved in the feast to pay them any notice. Harry couldn't stand it any longer when he said, "Come on. If we're going to do this we better get going."

Harry looked around the room and glanced one more time to the staff table. Professor Snape was busy chatting with Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall seemed to be in an animated conversation with the headmaster. Harry slipped from the bench and out the door without a sound. Ron and Hermione were right behind him.

Ron breathed a heavy sigh of relief once they rounded the corner. "Well that was easy enou…"

Harry and Hermione put their fingers to their lips at the same time to hush Ron. Someone was coming up the stairs on the opposite end of the corridor. It was the stairs leading to the dungeons. Although they were far off it was a straight line of site and whoever was climbing the stairs would see Harry and his friends once they made it to the top.

Harry quickly looked around for a place to hide. He tapped Ron and Hermione on the shoulder and ducked behind a statue of a gargoyle at the foot of one of the unmoving staircases. Harry peaked around the corner. The person was far off but Harry recognised the purple turban right away. It was Professor Quirrell. He was obviously late for the feast but to Harry he didn't look like he was in a particular hurry. But then again, it was difficult to tell from the distance.

Once the professor was out of site, Harry turned back to his friends. "It's safe. Let's go before we do get caught."

"It's closed! How can the library be closed? It's not even eight o'clock," Hermione whinged indignantly.

Harry was disappointed too. They had just climbed three flights of stairs and risked detention for nothing. Not to mention he was really looking forward to researching his family. Now they would have to sneak back to the Great Hall and hope they wouldn't get caught in the process.

"Maybe Madam Pince went to the feast," Ron said. "Did anybody see her there? I guess she has about as much right to be at the feast as anyone else."

Hermione looked as if she were about to cry as she stared up at the great, closed door. "But the library…"

"Come on, Hermione," Harry said, unable to hide his disappointment as he took her by the elbow. "We'll have to come back some other time."

Harry and his friends slowly made their way back down the winding stairs. Their sluggish pace was due in part for their need for stealth in in part for their grief that the library was closed.

Then something stopped them in their tracks just as they reached the first floor. It was a smell—a putrid smell that seemed to waft from below them.

"Ugh! What's that?" Hermione cried as she pinched he nose. "That's awful!"

Ron bent over the banister and groaned, "Oh no!"

"What is it?" Harry asked as he looked down to the floors below. He saw something massive just lumber out of his site followed by a silver flash that was so fast, Harry wondered if he saw it at all. Whatever it was, it was smellier than it was large—and it was massive. Unfortunately, the creature must have heard Harry because the sound of its movement stopped.

"Run!" Ron yelled as he grabbed Harry and Hermione by the hand and pulled them down the first floor corridor as fast as he could run.

With Harry and Hermione in tow, Ron slammed open the first door they came to. It was a girl's lavatory.

Ron leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath. Harry felt as if he had a stich in his side and was having trouble breathing himself. "What was that?" Harry managed to pant.

"A troll," Ron said. "And we need to come up with a plan. If it caught wind of us, it'll come for us. And that's not good."

Suddenly the ground began to shake and a resounding BOOM echoed throughout the room. Even through distance and a closed door, Harry could smell the troll's stench.

Hermione looked around the room frantically. So did Harry. It was a loo. Why couldn't they have stumbled into the armoury?

Harry could feel his panic rise. He didn't want his friends to know how scared he was. It was Ron who voiced Harry's own question. "What are we going to do?"

The pounding footsteps were getting closer and the stink getting stronger. It appeared as if the troll had caught their scent. The only place to hide was in the stalls. Harry cried, "Quickly! In here!"

The three friends managed to cram their way into the farthest stall just as the door to the loo slowly creaked open. The first thing to hit them was the smell. It was almost enough to make Harry lose what little dinner he had.

Harry and his friends didn't have time to think before the troll roared and a giant club crashed through their door. They barely had time to duck. Harry could swear he felt the troll's club brush across his hair. But the club missed them and smashed directly into the toilet. Harry couldn't tell the difference between his screams and those of his friends as they scrambled under the divider and into the next stall. It was their only recourse.

No one had time to think of a spell. All they could do was keep crawling as the troll smashed stall, toilets and sinks, and cried out in frustration during his rampage. Harry didn't have time to grab his face when he felt the sting of broken porcelain brush one of his eyes. He could taste blood and knew it was his. But the air was full of spraying wood, porcelain and water and he thought they were going to doe in the girl's loo.

Just as they reached the last stall, Harry thought he heard the troll give a startled grunt. Hermione screamed out something and Harry threw himself over his friends as the entire girl's bathroom seemed to cave in on them.

Then the world went black.

Severus acknowledged Harry as the boy entered the Great Hall with his friends. Harry's spirits seemed to be low and that concerned Severus. Of course the boy would be distracted today of all days. It was quite possible that only the boy felt the significance of the day as much as Severus. Severus hoped that Harry would get caught up in the festivities of the night and forget about its sad memories, if only for a little while. Severus turned his attention from the boy in hopes that Harry wouldn't feel the extra pressure of Severus' scrutiny.

Severus thought of the boy when he lit his yearly vigil candle in Lily's memory earlier that day. But he would be hard-pressed to come up with a plausible reason for his ritual. It would lead to awkward questions from the boy that Severus had no answers for.

But Severus had another question he needed to answer to Minerva McGonagall—such as how her first-year Seeker managed to procure his own broom.

He desperately tried to remember what he had been drinking the night he thought it was a good idea to buy an eleven year old boy a Nimbus 2000. Of course he wanted to buy his son the safest broom on the market and cost wasn't a factor when it came to keeping Harry safe. Severus had been living alone and miserly for as long as he could remember and had a rather tidy savings. He could afford a few extravagances for the sake of his son. Then again, of course the sales wizard neglected to tell Severus that the Nimbus 2000 was the fastest broom in the world when Severus said it was a gift for his young nephew. Perhaps he should have invested in a subscription to Witch Broom before making such a rash decision.

With the exception of Albus, no one knew Severus had been watching every single one of Harry's Quidditch practices. The headmaster's tower offered the best view of the Quidditch pitch, next to the Astronomy tower, and it afforded more privacy. It also afforded a direct line of sight should Severus need to use his wand. But the boy had been proven a natural when it came to flying. The incident with Longbottom's Rememberall had not been a fluke. Even during his brief Quidditch career at Hogwarts, Severus couldn't recall anyone who could twist, turn, and contort himself on a broom as naturally as Harry. The boy flew on sheer instinct and his instinct was phenomenal. Severus was sure to have a heart attack before the holidays.

His failing heart wasn't the only reason Severus regretted the broom. Severus had watched Harry's practice just this afternoon with equal measure of pride, dread, and impending doom for his house's chance at the cup. Harry had the reflexes of a cat. Between Harry's lightning reflexes and lightning skill on a broom, Slytherin's chances of winning the Quidditch cup this year were all but forfeit. In fact, Gryffindor might be in for an unprecedented seven-year run. Harry was only bound to get better with experience, and barring injury or suspension Severus failed to see how Harry would be stoppable on the pitch. Not that Severus would ever try to stop his son from succeeding at anything, even if it was a Quidditch match against Severus' own house.

Perhaps he could arrange for Harry to be transferred to Slytherin. No—it wouldn't happen. He didn't have enough gold in Gringotts to bribe either McGonagall or the headmaster, much less the pair of them.

Now it was Halloween. It was a little over a week until Harry's first match. Of course it would be with Slytherin.

"Have you any prodigies amongst this year's batch of first-years, Severus?" Filius Flitwick, the diminutive Charms professor, had interrupted Severus' chain of thought.

Severus knew what the Head of Ravenclaw was trying to wheedle out of him. Filius wanted to know what Severus thought of Harry as a student. Let him wonder, because Severus wasn't going to give him any gossip fodder. "There may be one or two with potential," Severus drawled, "but for the most part it's the usual batch of oblivious dunderheads."

Severus let Filius waffle on about how Ms Granger was able to perform a levitation spell her very first day. Severus didn't see that as much of an accomplishment. He was capable of performing a levitation spell during his first Charms lesson. Severus didn't recall Professor Flitwick singing his praises.

Severus had just stabbed into his fried aubergine when Quirinus Quirrell bolted through the doors of the Great Hall like a bastard. Severus was so startled he didn't catch what the nutter had first bellowed. But he did catch the second part. "…Troll in the dungeon! Thought you ought to know." Then the barmpot passed out.

As the headmaster barked out instructions to the student body, something occurred to Severus. Quirrell had a gift with handling Trolls. In fact, Quirrell's bit of defence for the Philosopher's Stone was a Troll. Why hadn't he dispatched of this one and how did it manage to break through the castle's defences in the first place?

The hairs on the back of Severus' neck stood on end. Something wasn't right. Was there actually a troll in the castle or was Quirrell pulling everyone's plonker? The headmaster would be too busy securing the safety of the castle and there wasn't any time to discuss theory.

Severus looked over to the Gryffindor table to find Harry but the prefects were already leading their charges back to the common rooms. Severus looked around the room once again. Quirrell was gone. And even worse, in all the commotion, no one seemed to have taken notice.

That had decided it for Severus. The troll was likely a hoax. Knowing that Harry was safe with his House, Severus dashed out the staff door and made straight for the third floor.

Severus had managed to make his way to the third-floor before Quirrell. That is if indeed Quirrell had made his way to the third floor at all. Severus never saw him. Severus did manage to have a run-in with Fluffy, though.

Fluffy was Hagrid's 'pet' Cerberus. Only Hagrid would think a vicious Cerberus would actually make a fine pet. Severus only intended to peek in the chamber to insure the trap door had not been opened. The door had not been tampered with but Severus learned the hard way that there was a reason Hagrid walked around with a flute in the pocket of his waistcoat—other than to purposely annoy three-quarters of the staff at Hogwarts with his impromptu solo concerts.

Severus limped back down the corridor nursing his right leg. In his haste, Severus forgot to bring music to tame the savage beast, and the savage beast turned out to be quicker than Severus. Luckily, it was just a nip, but it was enough to draw blood.

Severus planned to gimp his way to the staff lounge as it was the closest place he could rest and nurse his leg but he was stopped by a resounding crash and the floor shaking beneath him. His heart stopped. There was a troll in the castle. Quirrell, that monumental arse, had actually set a troll inside a school full of children!

He was regaining his footing when he noticed one of the castle ghosts hurrying towards him. It was the Slytherin House ghost, The Bloody Baron. Something was gravely wrong if he were seeking out Severus.

"Have you seen the Troll, Lord Idwal?" Severus was one of the few people who knew the Bloody Baron's true name, or the fact that he actually wasn't a baron, for there were no barons in England before William the Conqueror.

"Gea, Lārēow." The Bloody Baron's chilly voice was tinged with panic. He then remembered to revert back to modern English. "The beast has trapped three children in the ladies garderobe two levels below. I believe one to be your son, Henry."

Severus didn't even think to correct the ghost on Harry's name when he sprinted towards the nearest staircase and dared it to move.

The staircases seemed to sense Severus' urgency and managed to stay put. He met Minerva on the first floor landing. Apparently she had heard the commotion as well, which had stopped just as suddenly as it started. Severus told her what the Bloody Baron had seen as they ran down the corridor.

When Severus saw what was left of the door to the girl's lavatory, his heart stopped. Water had flooded into the corridor and amongst the wreckage of smashed stone and splintered wood lay the unconscious troll.

The smell was abominable. It looked as though the troll had somehow slipped in the water during its rampage and crashed its head into the far wall. But Severus and Minerva didn't have time to think about that.

"The children?" Minerva asked urgently. "Do you see any sign of the children!"

"Harry!" Severus called out in desperation. "Harry, are you here?"

Severus heard Harry's frantic voice call out from under the carnage of the nearest stall. "We're over here, Professor! Ron and Hermione are with me!"

Severus raised his wand, ready to vanish everything in front of him to get to his son.

"Let me do this, Severus," Minerva said as she placed her hand on his and lowered his wand. "In your state you're likely to bring down the ceiling on us all."

Minerva levitated the wrecked stall quickly, but carefully off the children and transfigured the splintered wood into a makeshift cage around the Troll and reinforced it with magic. Although she worked fast, she wasn't fast enough for Severus.

Finally, Severus saw the children, huddled together with their arms around each other. They were scared and other than a few scratches and bruises, they seemed to be no worse for wear. Harry reached out his hand to Severus and Severus pulled him through the wreckage. Before he knew what he was doing he was hugging the boy and checking his injuries. Harry's left eye looked particularly bad. "You're bleeding, Are you hurt badly?" From the corner of his eye, Severus could see that Ms Granger and Mr Weasley were receiving the same treatment from Minerva.

Severus was worried. There was dried blood on Harry's face and he seemed unable to speak. Was he in shock? Severus longed to know what had happened when Mr Weasley finally spoke. "It was Hermione. She saved us. She yelled 'Protego' just as the troll fell and everything came down on top of us.

"You cast a full protection charm, Ms Granger?" Minerva said in amazement. "That's remarkable!"

"Indeed," Severus said in agreement as he silently awarded fifty points to Ms Granger for saving his son's life. "Be that as it may, I'm curious as to why Ms Granger needed to perform such an advanced spell to begin with. Why didn't you evacuate with your house?" he asked.

"A very valid point, Professor Snape," Minerva said, giving each student a stern glare. "Would one of you care to explain?"

Ms Granger looked as if she were about to say something but two things happened. The troll had begun to stir, resulting in her and Mr Weasley taking refuge behind their Head of House's robes.

And Quirrell arrived. He hadn't come from the direction of the main staircase. Severus wondered where he had been.

Instinctively, Severus drew Harry closer to his side. Harry squirmed but Severus kept the boy close. He bore his gaze on the DADA professor trying to ascertain some deception. Something wasn't right about the wizard. His manner was all wrong and Severus couldn't figure out why.

"It's about time you got here, Quirinus," Minerva said tersely. "You're the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and an expert with Trolls." She pointed to the behemoth in the rubble. "Clean this up. I expect you in the headmaster's office when you're done. You have one hour."

"Come, children," Minerva said. She ushered Ms Granger and Mr Weasley away from the scene and Severus followed with Harry. He didn't dare protest, Minerva was livid. He could see her carotid pulsing rapidly in her neck. She was just as suspicious of Quirrell as Severus was and Severus was certain she wanted the Defence professor's guts for garters. Severus' proximity was too close and she might choose him as an alternate target. As it was, Severus wanted Harry away from Quirrell and somewhere private where he could check the boy's injuries. Harry had too many bloody scratches and it looked as if the nasty one over his left eye needed attention.

Severus noticed they weren't heading for the hospital wing, but rather to the stairs that lead to the Gryffindor tower. "Minerva, why aren't we heading for the hospital? Harry needs his eye attended."

"There were some minor injuries amongst the students during the initial panic and Poppy's staff has their hands full," She explained without slowing her pace. "I'm taking them to my office where it's quieter and Poppy can look at them personally."

Severus stopped with Harry. He turned his son's face to him and examined his injured eye. He didn't like the way it was beginning to swell or the angry red the skin had turned. It looked extremely painful to Severus. He was surprised the child wasn't in tears. He didn't want his son to wait forever in Minerva's office wondering if the matron would ever arrive. Plus, Severus just needed to check Harry over one more time. He had to insure himself the boy was truly going to be okay. Harry was still shaking from the incident. Severus wanted to get his son somewhere where the boy would feel safe. Severus needed to feel Harry was safe. There was only one place he could do that.

"Minerva, I don't like the look of Harry's eye. I don't think he can wait," Severus said as he gazed into Harry's green eyes—so like Lily's. The boy was scared, confused, and in quite a bit of pain. Severus felt he understood why. "I have healing potions in my office. I can start treatment until Poppy arrives."

Minerva stopped long enough to turn back and her eyes softened. "Of course, Severus—take care of Mr Potter." Then she went up the winding staircase with her charges.

Harry sat atop the desk in Professor Snape's office as the professor rummaged through the cupboard behind his desk. .

Under ordinary circumstances, Harry would be studying all of the fascinating and grisly objects lining the shelves in Professor Snape's office. But right now he was confused and his face hurt pretty badly. Overall, Harry thought he was more confused than in pain but the two seemed to be mixed up together and it was hard for him to tell them apart.

As soon as they entered Professor Snape's office, Harry's teacher plopped him directly on his desk. An act in itself that Harry found strange, but then the professor frantically ran his hands up and down Harry's arms and legs checking for broken bones. Although the professor's hands were warm and rough to Harry's skin, his touch was gentle and caring.

"Are you certain you don't hurt anywhere else?" he asked Harry. Harry could hear genuine worry in his voice. Apparently the professor didn't trust his physical exam because he cast a charm on Harry to double-check for any broken bones he may have missed.

"I feel fine, Professor," Harry answered dishonestly. Not only did his face hurt, but he was getting a headache. The professor harrumphed and went to his cupboard to find potions.

Nobody had ever taken care of Harry like Professor Snape was taking care of him now. Aunt Petunia would always tend to Harry if he were ever hurt, but she was callous and didn't seem to care if the cure was as bad or worse than the hurt. And woe to Harry if he ever complained, especially if Dudley was the cause of his injury, then Harry would feel the sting of the back of Aunt Petunia's hand.

Professor Snape's actions had Harry confused and he was sure that was more the cause of his headache than his eye injury. Never had anyone tried to take care of Harry like this. No one was ever kind. No one was ever gentle. No one really cared if Harry was hurting. Why did Professor Snape care so much? He was supposed to be the meanest professor in Hogwarts, but to Harry, he was always the kindest. Not even Professor McGonagall treated Harry so kindly. It didn't make sense to Harry at all.

It looked as though the professor found what he was looking for. It looked like a jar of honey. The professor opened the jar and removed some bandages covered in the sticky honey-like stuff. "Harry, this Murtlap Essence. It with ease your pain as it heals your wound."

The Professor tried to put a patch over Harry's eye, but Harry pushed away his hand. "I'm okay, Professor. It doesn't really hurt."

There was a bit of annoyance in Professor Snape's voice when he said. "Do not lie to me, Harry." And he tried to put the patch over Harry's eye again.

This time Harry swatted his professor's hand away. "No! I don't want it!"

Professor Snape almost slammed the jar on his desk. Harry wondered why he was holding back because the professor was clearly angry. "You're being obstinate, Harry. That wound is clearly painful and will fester if it's not treated."

Harry couldn't hold back any longer. "Why!"

There was a clear look of confusion on Professor Snape's face. "Why what, Harry?"

Harry could feel his eyes being to burn and itch as unwanted tears began to well. It made his bad eye hurt all the more but he did not care. He had to ask.

"Why do you care? Nobody ever cares! Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon don't care! They never did! I was always a burden to them. Said nobody else would want to take me! My old teachers never cared! They just believed Aunt Petunia when she said I was a trouble maker! I even have some mysterious magical relative and they don't even care enough to want to know me! What's wrong with me, professor? Why can't anyone love me?"

"Why can't anyone love me!"

Severus was stung. Harry was in pain, but it wasn't because of the gash over his eye. Harry's glistening eyes were enough to make Severus have to fight back his own tears. He sat down in his chair so he wouldn't tower over Harry. He wanted to see his son's whole face and he wanted Harry to see his. He wanted Harry to see the truth in his eyes.

"Harry, you are loved very much. I love you."

There. Severus had said it. He had never said I love you to anyone in his life. He had always assumed his mother knew, and he never had the courage to say the words to Lily, but he found the daring to say the words to his son, and it felt as natural as breathing.

Harry was sobbing now and even Severus couldn't help but cry. Harry rubbed the tears away from his good eye with his fist and sniffled. Then he asked again. "Why?"

Severus was done in. He took Harry's chin in his hand and turned the boy's face to him. "Because you are my son, Harry."

For a moment, the world stopped spinning as Harry considered Severus' words. Severus braced himself and waited for the rejection. But it would never come. Instead, Harry astounded Severus by throwing himself into his arms.

As Severus wrapped his arms around his son for the first time, Harry buried his face into Severus' neck. The boy must have cried harder than he ever had in his life. And Severus let him.

November 1st

The night and next morning had been a dizzying mix of emotions. Harry was exhausted as he made his way from Professor Snape's dungeon to the Great Hall, but a casual observer wouldn't have noticed. Harry felt like running and jumping for joy. So much had happened in one night that Harry couldn't keep his thoughts straight. One thing was for sure. His life had changed forever. And he couldn't be happier about it.

Harry's biggest shock came when he realized that after wishing and hoping his entire life, somebody loved him. Not only did someone love him, that someone was his very own dad. Harry couldn't stop the torrent of tears by then and his father let him cry for a long time. So long in fact, Harry hadn't remembered when he stopped, or when he fell asleep. His next memory was of waking up on a couch in Professor Snape's chambers. Harry comfortably nestled under a soft duvet and his eye had been healed.

As he wandered his way through the empty dungeons and up the staircase leading to the ground floor, he could feel the unseen eyes of the sentinel suits of armour and those of the portrait guardians of past professors and students follow him. Professor Snape would have escorted him, but he was called away by the headmaster. Funny enough, walking the lonely corridors of the dungeons by himself didn't creep him out at all. On the contrary, Harry felt safe. Even the few Slytherins that he did pass took no real notice of him. They seemed to have better things to do than mess with a firstie. He really did feel safe. Cold, but safe! Why were the dungeons always so cold?

Harry had missed his lessons that morning. An excuse had been sent to professors Quirrell and Flitwick. The rest of the school probably thought he was in the hospital, still recovering from his injuries. They were already gathered in the Great Hall for lunch when Harry could finally return to his friends. His head was still spinning from everything Professor Sna...his dad...had just told him. Harry was confused, yet he felt higher than any broom could ever carry him as he passed through the massive doors and searched the crowded Gryffindor table to find his friends. As much as he was chewing at the bit to tell Ron and Hermione everything he just learned, Harry still wasn't sure if he should. At least yet, anyway.

Harry's professor...or rather, his father, had explained everything to him and Harry felt he had understood...well, at least most of it.

Before Harry came to Hogwarts, Professor Snape had always believed what the rest of the world had believed. Harry was James Potter's son. But when Harry arrived at school, the professor had a real shock. Harry looked nothing like James Potter at all. In fact, Harry was the spitting image of Professor Snape as a boy, with his mum's green eyes. Professor Snape had started to wonder if Harry was his. But he didn't want to say anything to Harry until he knew for certain. He was afraid of how Harry would take the news.

Harry scoffed to himself. How else would the professor expect Harry to take it? How could he be anything else but excited to find out that his real dad was alive? And that he loved him! Who would be upset about that?

Until this summer, the only thing Harry had been told about his parents was that they had died in a car crash. As desperately as he wanted his mum and dad, he had also been angry with them because they had abandoned him to the Dursleys. Because they had been stupid enough to drink and drive and not think of the consequences to Harry.

But that wasn't the truth. His mum and her husband were heroes. And they had died saving Harry. Stupid Aunt Petunia! He cursed her silently for ever making him think badly of them.

Professor Snape, his dad, had explained a lot over breakfast, which was one of the weirdest things Harry ever experienced. He had never sat across the table from an adult and have a civil conversation. The only adults he had ever shared a table with were his Muggle relatives, and those meals were usually punctuated with hateful scolding or sneering silence.

But Professor Snape allowed him to ask questions, even as Harry tucked into his eggs and bacon. Of course, Harry wanted to know how the professor knew for certain that Harry was his son. How long did he know? Why didn't he tell Harry before now? Who else knows? How is he Harry's father if his mum was married to James Potter?

Those questions had only been the tip of the iceberg. The professor seemed a little nervous as he answered Harry's questions. It wasn't obvious like Professor Quirrell with his stammering and persistent collywobbles. It was subtle. Like Professor Snape was trying to make himself talk. Honestly, it never occurred to him that Professor Snape was capable of being nervous.

The story had been complicated, but Harry thought he understood. His dad...well...James Potter, had been some kind of spy or something. Anyway, he would often go on secret missions that took him away from home. Sometimes for weeks. Harry asked what he did on his missions and Professor Snape said he did not know. He didn't even think Harry's mum knew for sure. Professor Dumbledore was probably the only person who knew for certain and as far as the professor knew, he had told no one. The only thing Professor Snape did know is that once, James Potter disappeared while on a mission and everyone thought he had died. His mum had turned to Professor Snape for comfort because they had been friends. His...James Potter returned soon after and Harry's mum went back to him. When Harry was born almost nine months later, everyone assumed Harry belonged to James Potter.

"Did you ever wonder?" Harry had asked.

Professor Snape shook his head and said, "Perhaps once," then the professor got really quiet and Harry could barely hear him when he said, "What little I had heard before your," the professor stopped and swallowed, "parents went into hiding indicated you favoured Potter. I never let myself think about it after that. She was with her husband; they had their son. And by all accounts you were a happy family." He guessed because of Harry's black hair, everyone thought he was going to grow up to look like James Potter with his mum's eyes. Most times, it's hard to tell when babies are that young.

But as soon as Professor Snape saw Harry walk into the Great Hall, he began to think again that Harry could be his son. "Other than your mother's green eyes, you are the mirror image of myself when I was a boy. But I had to be certain." The professor went on to explain that he had conducted some kind of familial test to be sure. It hadn't been that long since he got the results, he just didn't know how to best tell Harry.

Then their talk became even more serious. His newfound dad had been a double agent spy. "Harry, during the war, most of the wizarding world believed I fought for the other side."

"Why would they think that," Harry asked. If his mum liked him, and Professor Dumbledore hired him as a teacher, surely his dad had to be a good guy.

The professor closed his eyes. Harry could hear him focus on his breathing, like he was trying to steady his thoughts.

"Because, in the beginning, I was."

Harry flinched. He almost interrupted, but he kept quiet and let his professor continue to speak.

"It was later, when I realised my foolishness and learned of the danger..." Professor Snape seemed to need to breathe again. It took a moment before he continued. "The danger your family was in, I turned to Professor Dumbledore and told him everything I knew so you, your mother, and P...Potter could be safe."

For the tiniest of moments, Harry's eyes began to look for an escape when the professor told him he had been on Voldemort's side. But then he said he changed sides so Harry could be safe. That slowed Harry's pounding heart. The transition from fear to reassurance was so fast, it made Harry feel a little faint.

"But you switched sides, right?" He asked.

Professor Snape nodded, "Yes. It was even acknowledged by the Wizengamot." He then explained to Harry that was wizard's court and that he was found innocent.

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry finally asked. "That's in the past. What does it have to do with you being my dad?"

"Because," his dad said, "There are those who don't believe I turned, who still think I hold some dark agenda. Most of the wizarding world are unaware of the shared past between your mother and me. They venerate the Potters as martyred saints. Especially, your mother. And you...they revere you as the saviour of their world. The Dark Lord was considered the epitome of everything that is dark and evil in this world. As a mere infant, you somehow managed to vanquish that evil. Therefore, in the minds of most, you must be the epitome of all that is light and good.

"But I'm not!" Harry proclaimed hotly. "I'm just a kid! I was just a baby! I don't even know how to do magic now! How could I have beat him? His wand probably just backfired or something!"

A small, half-smile slowly appeared on his dad's face, that did not quite meet his dark eyes.

"Harry, I don't claim to know how the Dark Lord fell," he explained. "But I know that it had nothing to do with anything you did or did not do. Nevertheless, we must take into consideration my dubious past and your noble legend. People are likely to be angry and perhaps even cruel when it is revealed that I am your real father."

Harry felt his face grow hot. "So what? If you're my dad, you're my dad. It's none of their business now, is it?"

His father got up from his chair and came around to Harry's side of the table. He knelt before Harry and looked directly at him. Harry could feel the sadness he detected in his father's eyes. Harry felt regretful, but he didn't really know why.

"Listen to me, Harry," his dad said. "Death Eaters...the Dark Lord's followers, were known to do very bad things."

"But you were one of them," Harry quietly noted. For some reason, he felt so ridiculously small.

His dad nodded, "I was gifted at potions. I could fight. But there were others who lusted for blood where I did not. True, the Dark Lord was more than capable of brewing the darkest of potions. But there were other potions that required more 'innocent' hands. Had I stained my hands with blood, those potions would prove inert. So, I was never directly involved with anything violent. Being detached from some of the baser activities of my...associates, it was easy to turn a blind eye. It was easy to believe that the Dark Lord was trying to free wizards, not enslave them. But I eventually realised I was wrong, and I turned spy for the light. Do you understand?"

Harry had nodded and looked down at his feet. He said he understood, but he wasn't sure that he did. But Professor Dumbledore said his father was good. That Wisencourt thing said he was good. So, it must be true. Right?

Harry felt spindly fingers under his chin. The tips of his dad's fingers were rough, but his touch was still soft. "Harry, see how you doubt me?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't doubt you?"

His dad's eyes crinkled with his sad smile. "You're confused Harry, and I don't blame you. But think of it this way. No matter what I did to reform myself, no matter what I said in my defence, do you think Professor Dumbledore would allow anyone who could kill in cold blood in his school? Teaching his pupils?"

"No," Harry said resolutely. It wasn't a lie. Was it?

"Exactly," his father said. "And if you, my own son, knowing that I would die before I let any harm come to you, can have a moment of doubt, what do you imagine strangers will think?"

"Not good things," Harry confessed guiltily. Did he just say he would die for me?

"Yes, Harry, not good things," his dad echoed. "Not good at all. Many witches and wizards out there would sooner believe that I had...hurt your mother in order to conceive you, rather than contemplate Lily could possibly dishonour the heroic James Potter, even unknowingly. That's just the beginning, Harry."

Harry felt sick. He didn't know much about sex, but he knew how babies were made. And he had even heard of rape and knew enough to know that it was something horrible. Aunt Petunia and Aunt Marge couldn't stop talking about it that one time. A teenaged girl from their neighbourhood was pregnant and it was quite the scandal. According to Aunt Petunia, the girl claimed she had been 'forced upon' while making her way home after watching a football game in the park. Aunt Marge had said some ugly things about the girl and obviously didn't believe her story. Harry thought that some of those things Aunt Marge said about a girl she didn't even know, was some of the cruellest things he ever heard anyone say about anybody. Is that how people would talk about his dad? His mum!?

"That's awful," he answered meekly. "Why would people think things like that?"

"Because," his dad began to explain, "an extraordinary event in our history revolves around you. Most people lead exceedingly mundane lives and many feel helpless. Right or wrong, the mythos surrounding you, brings them hope. And then there are others who cannot feel good about themselves without disparaging someone else."

Harry looked at his dad, not quite sure what he was saying. His dad must have read his mind, because he said, "They have to believe the worst in others in order to feel good about themselves."

"People are stupid," Harry said dejectedly.

"They certainly can be." Harry felt two strong hands gently wrap themselves around his head. Although he was caught off guard by the gesture, Harry did not resist when his dad drew him to his chest. Harry allowed himself to get lost in his dad's warm, unsolicited embrace, and to go adrift to the sound of his beating heart. Harry knew then that his dad's heart was beating for him.

Harry stood at the doors of the Great Hall just long enough to see that his dad was already at the Head Table talking with Professor McGonagall. He hadn't notice Harry walk in. Harry blinked, thinking that there must be some kind of short cut from the dungeon. Before he could think any further on it, Hermione had caught his eye with her frantic waving from where she was sitting at the table. He was glad to see her there and know she hadn't been too badly hurt with their run-in with the troll.

Ron turned away from his plate only long enough to wave Harry over. He never stopped tucking into his chicken leg.

As Harry approached his friends, Hermione nudged Lavender Brown into Parvati Patil unintentionally in order to make room for Harry between herself and Ron. As Harry took his seat, he and Hermione were both greeted with scornful glares from the two girls, which they both ignored.

A plate magically popped in front of Harry and he tucked into his roast beef straight away. Breakfast seemed like forever ago and he was ravenous.

Ron stopped chewing long enough to ask, "So how did it go? You alright, mate?"

"I'm good, Ron," Harry said. "I'm glad you guys weren't hurt. You had it pretty rough last night, Hermione. Are you okay?"

Hermione nodded as she primly cut into her broccoli. But her lips were tight with annoyance. "Madam Pomfrey said I over-extended my magic. I can't do any spell casting for a week."

Seamus leaned over from the opposite side of the table. "Forget about that, Potter. Tell us all about the troll!"

Others sitting close by turned their attention to Harry to hear what he had to say.

"Stuff it, Finnigan," Ron reproached. "Save it for the common room. You lot let the man eat, already."

Rebuked and amidst their grumbling protests, Seamus, and the others around the table returned to their own business. Seamus offered them one, last baleful glare, the continued his conversation with Dean.

Harry turned his thoughts back to his friends. Did his recklessness steal away his friend's magic? He turned towards Hermione in order to keep their conversation private and said softly, "I'm sorry, Hermione. Truly, I am. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."

Hermione's face softened as she forced a smile and patted Harry's hand. "I'm alright, honestly. I just have to write essays for now, and in a week, I can do my practical wand work in front of the professors and I'll be all caught up."

"Yeah, Harry," Ron joined in. "Hermione's brilliant. She'll be showing off to the rest of us in no time. You'll see."

Harry looked between his friends. Ron had gone back to his food, happily oblivious to any offence he may have given Hermione. Hermione open mouth snapped shut. She had probably come to the conclusion that Ron's off-handed remark was meant as a compliment and not an insult. So, she let it go.

Ron's used plate was replaced with a fresh one and he immediately reached for pudding, deciding upon the trifle. "Tell us honestly, Harry. You're okay? Why didn't you come to class this morning? Did Madam Pomfrey keep you in the hospital all this time?"

Harry gulped, wondering what to say without saying too much. "I was with Professor Snape all morning."

Ron's fork halted halfway to his mouth and he looked at Harry with astonishment. "He punished you that hard? I mean...McGonagall came down like a storm on us, but she didn't hold us over from class."

"It was about the troll, wasn't it," Hermione said, knowingly. "Professor McGonagall did give us rather a harsh talking to. But once we explained to her why we were in the library, she said she would have been more than agreeable to give us permission had we only asked. No one could have predicted the troll, so we didn't get in trouble for that."

Harry's heart dropped. He never mentioned the reason they had gone to the library in the first place, to his dad. There he was. He had spent the night in the quarters of the one person who could tell him everything he wanted to know about his mum, and what last night had meant to him and he blew his chance.

Harry put down his fork and pushed his plate away and hung his head in shame. He had been so excited about the dad he had found, Harry nearly forgot about the mum he had lost. "He didn't punish me. We never spoke about why we were in the library last night."

"Wha...what!?
"Why not!?" His friends exclaimed in astonishment, regaining the unwanted attention of their housemates.

Harry looked about and lowered his head. Ron and Hermione drew themselves closer in order to hear him. "Look, we need to talk. Just not here. Alright?"

Ron nodded and crammed a roly-poly in his mouth, then seemed to swallow it all in one gulp. "Right, then," he answered, "We can go somewhere later. We have a break between afternoon classes. How about then?"

"I know where we can go," Hermione offered. "I'm sure we don't have to worry about anyone listening in. Nobody should be there."

"Right," Harry agreed as he turned his attention to his dad at the head table. "As long as we're not late for Potions."

He just got a new dad. Harry didn't want his dad to think his new son was some sort of troublemaker.

When Severus strode through the teacher's entrance with the headmaster at his side, he noticed that Harry had not joined his housemates yet. He berated himself for not walking with the boy, but as usual, the headmaster's proclivity for interrupting private moments at exactly the wrong time, was as irritatingly skilled as always.

As a result, Severus had sent Harry to walk through the dungeons on his own. Well...mostly on his own. Severus' chamber door had scarcely closed before he summoned the Bloody Baron. He instructed the House Ghost to keep an unseen eye on Harry as he traversed through Slytherin territory. Of course, any Slytherin that happened to be in the corridors would recognise the presence of their own house spirit following the boy and rethink any foolish ideas of accosting Harry.

Severus quietly cursed his mentor as he took the floo into the headmaster's office. After assurances to Albus that Harry would live, and an assurance to Severus that the troll had been dispatched, the headmaster got to the point of his summons.

In the short time it took Albus to explain, Severus forgave the old tosser. Albus Dumbledore, through his endless chain of connections had managed to procure a local council representative who happened to be a Squib. This representative agreed to accompany Severus and Albus to the Dursley's in order to obtain their signatures granting Severus full custody rights to Harry. This custody would be just as legally binding in the Wizarding world as it was in the Muggle.

Once Severus' custody of Harry was assured, they would reveal Harry's true parentage. Severus had been legally exonerated from his Death Eater past. Despite what public outcry might be, they couldn't take Harry away on that account. After all, countless former Death Eaters had children, and no one was trying to take them away from their parents. Albus had rightfully stated that without prior legal custody, the Ministry would try to snatch Harry's guardianship from him while trying to prove Severus' claim of paternity erroneous. This would be near impossible to do if Harry's own known relatives acknowledged Severus as Harry's father. Along with the paternity tests, Severus' claim would be iron-clad.

Severus gladly followed the headmaster. They would meet on the 9th at the Dursley's and one less worry would cloud Severus' brain. After their short discussion, he followed Albus into the floo that lead to the Head Table.

Albus took his chair whilst Severus took his own place beside Minerva. He glanced over at the Gryffindor table and noticed that Harry hadn't arrived yet. As to be expected. It was a good trek from the Dungeons to the Great Hall.

"Good afternoon, Severus," his austere colleague greeted. "I hope all is well."

Severus nodded. "Harry's eye healed quite nicely."

Minerva sipped her tea as she gave Severus a side glance. "Hmm...yes. That's good to hear. Ms Granger will have to forgo any wand work for the next week. She's understandably upset, but she's a clever girl. I have no doubt she'll remain head of her class."

"Well, as first years don't brew potions advanced enough to need wands. Ms. Granger will receive no special treatment from me." Severus noticed Harry enter the Great Hall from his peripheral. Satisfied that the boy was safe, he allowed himself to indulge in the fine stew the house elves had put before him.

"Try not to be too strict, Severus. It's not the children's fault a troll wandered it's way into the castle," Minerva stated. "After the children told me why they were in the library to begin with, I hadn't the heart to punish them any further."

"What? Why were the children in the library?" Severus suddenly developed a headache. The one thing Severus hated more than being branded a coward, was being proven ignorant. Why hadn't he asked Harry why they were in the library? Probably because once the boy's eye was healed, it no longer seemed a priority. There were more important things to discuss.

Minerva gave him a quizzical look. He didn't blame her. If he could cross his eyes and give himself one, he would. "You didn't ask Harr...What did you two talk about last night and half of today?" She noticed Severus' reluctance to answer and said, "Well never mind. Harry had no desire to participate in a celebration on the anniversary of his parent's death. They went to the library to see what they could find out about the Potters."

Severus lost his appetite. He put down his spoon and looked into his bowl regretfully before turning his gaze to his son. Why hadn't he thought of it? Of course, Harry would have wanted to commemorate his parents last night. Severus had his own small ritual for Lily every year of browsing through old photographs and dedicating a toast. He needed to think of a way to help Harry commemorate their death.

Harry sat at the table huddled between his two best friends. They certainly seemed to be conspiring about something. But it was just as likely they were trying not to be overheard.

"Severus?"

Severus was startled out of his thoughts. "Hmm?"

"You didn't punish the boy too harshly, did you?" Minerva asked worriedly.

"Of course not," he countered defensively. "I didn't punish him at all."

That had caught Minerva by surprise. "Oh! What did you do during all that time, then?"

Severus thought about what he should say. He wasn't too keen on letting the kneazle out of the bag, as of yet. But Minerva was no dunderhead. She more than suspected the truth. She was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He respected her every bit as much as Albus and trusted her infinitely more. And he could use a confidant amongst his peers.

Severus observed is colleagues along the table. They were either engaged in their own conversations or lost in their own thoughts. But he didn't want bits and pieces of what he was about to discuss with Minerva to find their way to wayward ears.

"Muffliato" Severus incanted. Once they were safe from being overheard, Severus confessed, "I told Harry the truth."

"What truth?" She inquired.

Severus gave her a, 'you disappoint me' look.

Realization dawned upon her face. "Ooooohhh...So all the speculation?"

Minerva cleared her throat as her knife began to attack the meat on her plate. "How did he take it?" she asked.

"Surprisingly well," he acknowledged.

"And how much of the truth did you tell him?" It could have been a loaded question, but to Severus' relief, it was not accusatory.

"Admittedly, I used a bit of a Glamour for some of the...uglier details, but it was the truth nonetheless." He hated lying to her because Severus did tell a glaring lie to Harry.

Lily had known very well that Potter was alive. She was lonely, her infidelity was intentional, and Severus had been a willing participant. But it was a detail that no one needed to know and no one other than Severus could prove. But that was a secret he would carry to the grave. Not even Veritaserum would drag it out of him. He would neither sully Lily's memory, nor break Harry's heart.

Minerva continued her questioning. Sometimes Severus felt he was still her student, rather than a peer. "And why are you surprised the boy would so easily accept you?"

He wanted to scream 'Well, look at me, woman!'. He said in exasperation, "Who do you think any wizarding boy would rather have for a father? Me or James Potter?"

"Well, if you'd wash your hair once in a while, smile on occasion, and maybe emerge out of that dungeon of yours and get some sun, one might consider you a rather good looking man."

Severus nearly choked on his tea. He hadn't expected to hear that!

Minerva's smile softened and she patted his hand. "There now, Severus. You're too self-disparaging. You almost sound as if you would rather Harry choose James over you."

Severus sighed heavily. He felt like he was talking to his mother, something that felt all-together comforting and exasperating at the same time.

"Of course not...but my reputation and his legend..."

"Are of no concern to Harry," Minerva interrupted.

"But..."

"Severus Snape. Shut up and listen to me for once!"

Well that wasn't fair, he thought. He's listened to her plenty of times. He received an 'O' in his Transfiguration NEWT, did he not?

"Did it occur to you that the reason why it was so easy for Harry to cast aside James Potter's memory, is because the only thing he knew of him was his name?"

Severus just stared at her. He wondered if he looked as gormless as he felt.

"Don't be surprised that I know, Severus. As a Head of House, you know as well as I do that it is my responsibility to know about a student's home life. Albus was duty bound to tell me."

Severus reluctantly nodded his agreement. Before he could get a word in edgewise, Minerva cut him off.

"Severus, the answer is plainer than the nose on your face."

"Ex...excuse me?" he stammered.

Ignoring his offence, she said, "Harry would much rather have a real father, than an imaginary one."

That hit home. Severus' heart ached for Harry's longing, because it was a longing that he was far too familiar with.

Minerva tapped her napkin to the corners of her lips. No sooner had she placed it on her plate, they both disappeared.

"If you'll excuse me, Severus. I have my 5th year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to attend to."

"Of course. Thank you, Minerva."

She put a comforting grip on his shoulder. "No Severus. Thank you. Now that I know Harry hasn't been punished, he's free to play Quidditch tomorrow."

As she walked away, Severus relinquished his spell and called out "Fanatic!", then turned his attention to the Gryffindor table. Harry and his friends were already gone, along with over half of the other students.

Severus pushed his chair away from the table. As he arose, he was hit with the sickening stench of garlic.

"S...S...Severus."

Severus turned to find himself face to face with Quirinus Quirrell. It took all of Severus' will power to keep from recoiling.

Quirinus had been a year behind Severus in their days as students. Like Severus, though he was a brilliant scholar, he was socially awkward. Unlike Severus, Quirrell had once been handsome. And he certainly did not have a stammer. But something had happened to the young man before him. He was now gaunt and frail. And the ridiculous over-sized turban only made him look more so.

Before taking a sabbatical the previous year, Quirrell had at least been somewhat confident and respected in his subject, Muggle Studies. But whatever happened to his colleague over that year, Severus was certain of one thing. Quirinus Quirrell had stumbled across something exceptionally dark. Severus didn't know if the wizard had been cursed or had suffered from PTSD after witnessing something horrific. Whatever the case, what stood before Severus was only a shell of the man that he once knew.

"Quirinus," Severus replied with a polite nod. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"N...no. N...Not at all. I only n...noticed you were l...leaving. Th...thought y...you might l...like the c...company."

A couple of years ago, Severus might have taken him up on the offer, but Severus was in a hurry. Even if he could stomach the stench of garlic, body odour, and something that vaguely reminded him of putrefaction, he simply had no time to chat.

"I'm sorry, Quirinus. I must dash off to class. Perhaps another time," Severus lied and turned to leave.

"Yes. The Potter boy missed his morning lessons too."

The hairs stood up on the back of Severus' neck. What happened to his stammer? Severus' eyes narrowed with suspicion and he strengthened his Occlumency shields instinctively. He composed his face before he turned to face Quirrell. Severus wondered where everyone had gone. The Great Hall was empty except for himself and Quirinus.

"Pardon me?" Severus ask, sounding more threatening than he intended.

"I...I'm sorry. It j...j...just seems s...strange. You b...both m...missing morning l...lessons. W...were you h...hurt by the t...t...troll, too?"

Severus was no longer fooled by the stammer. He didn't know what deep game Quirrell was playing at, but he would find out. Now a troll finding its way into the castle was beginning to make a lot more sense.

"I'm the Potions Master, Quirinus. It's my job to help Poppy treat students." Severus retorted. "You're perfectly aware of that."

"S...sorry. J...j...just a c...concerned professor asking...a...about his p...pupil's w...welfare." Quirrell gave a smile that was obviously forced.

"Well, as you are neither Harry's parent, nor Head of House, I cannot discuss his private health matters with you. You need to take the matter up with Minerva."

Before Quirrell could answer, Severus turned on his heal and swept out of the Great Hall. He felt like he was going to retch, and it wasn't from the smell of garlic.

"Go on, Harry, tell him," Ron encouraged. "We'll wait for you outside."

Harry took his time packing his rucksack. His dad was sitting at his desk grumbling over essays. He had a red-inked quill slashing over someone's work. Harry hoped it wasn't his.

He took a deep breath and tried to find his courage. The reassurance of his two best friends helped to steel his nerves.

At first when he asked himself the question of whether he would tell Ron and Hermione that Professor Snape was his dad, Harry wasn't sure what to do. He hadn't known them long enough to know if he could trust them fully.

Harry knew that they would keep his secret. It was just something he felt deep down. He was afraid of rejection more than anything else. Not many students at Hogwarts liked Professor Snape. Ron claimed that all his brothers hated him. True, the professor hadn't been as bad as Ron feared, but would he risk having the mickey taken out of him by his brothers?

Harry wasn't worried about Hermione, so much. It was just, it would be weird having a girl as his only friend. People might think they liked each other that way. It was Ron who set Harry's worries at ease.

When it was time for their afternoon break, Hermione had suggested that they talk in the Astronomy Tower. She reasoned that no one would be there because it was too early for Astronomy lessons. Apparently, they weren't the only ones who found it a good idea because there were three upper year couples snogging in the stairwell at the top.

Hermione suggested the boat house, but Ron mentioned that it was too far away and suggested the Owlery. They could easily see if someone were coming and nobody was going up to the Owlery to snog. Eww!

As they climbed the stairs of the tower, they met Hagrid on his way down.

"What brings you lot up here this time o' day?"

"I need to send a letter to my mum and dad," Hermione lied easily. "Harry and Ron are just keeping me company."

"Right then." Hagrid smiled then took a lumpy burlap sack out of his pocket and showed it to them. "Give them a mo'. I jus' fed them." They assured Hagrid that they would allow the owls to eat in peace and plastered their backs against the wall in order to give the gentle giant room to pass down the narrow stairs.

When they reached the doorway to the Owlery, Harry and Hermione stepped just inside as Ron kept guard by the entrance. Just like Hagrid said the owls were settled on their perches too interested in their mice to notice the three students below them. Harry spotted Hedwig in a far up rafter enjoying her own dinner. He let her enjoy her meal.

"So, what happened?" Ron asked eagerly. "Why didn't Snape punish you?"

"Why didn't you tell him why we were in the library," Hermione added.

"Well," Harry said timidly." I don't know where to really begin. And to be honest, I'm a little scared to say."

Hermione looked at him with concern. "Scared? Why would you be scared to tell us?"

"Because it's pretty big. It could change everything," Harry said. "And it's a little bit dangerous if the wrong people find out before the time is right."

"Look mate, you don't have to share your secret with us if you don't want to," Ron assured him. "But it might take some of the pressure off if you do. Hermione and I won't tell anybody, even if they curse us." Hermione nodded affirmatively. "Even if you told us Snape was your dad, or something, we'd still be mates."

Harry's head snapped up in surprise staring at Ron in a state of shock.

Ron's jaw dropped in astonishment. "That's it! Snape's your dad?"

Hermione gasped and clasped both hands over her mouth. "Harry! That's wonderful!"

"Yeah! That's great, Harry!"

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Do you mean it? You're not angry that James Potter isn't my dad?"

"Why would we be upset about that?" Hermione asked. "It's not your fault."

Harry turned to Ron for his answer. Ron shrugged somewhat sheepishly. "I knew we would be mates before you showed me your scar. You were the only bloke on the train who was nice to me. Not even my own brothers let me share a car with them. It doesn't matter to me if you're Harry Potter or Harry Snape."

A huge weight was lifted from Harry's shoulders. As nice as it was to have a dad, life would be so much harder without friends.

"Just one thing, though, Harry?" Hermione asked. "How did it happen?"

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry almost burst out with a fit of giggles when Hermione retorted, "I didn't mean that, Ronald."

Ron crossed his arms defensively and asked loftily, "Then, what did you mean?"

Hermione pursed her lips and gave Ron a quick glare of annoyance before she regained her composure and turned to Harry. "What I meant to ask was, how is it Professor Snape is your dad if your mum was married to James Potter? Did James Potter adopt you, or something?"

Harry scratched the back of his head, trying to figure out how best to get on with it. "Well...the story's a bit complicated..."

Harry did eventually tell his friends everything his dad had told him, the best he could remember. When Harry finished, his friends had agreed that it was best if Harry's secret were to remain secret. There were too many wizards and witches who wouldn't understand. By the time Harry finished his story, it was time to head off to Potions class.

Before they reached the dungeons, Ron and Hermione finally talked Harry into telling his dad the reason they had been in the library. If Harry asked politely enough, perhaps Professor Snape would tell Harry more of his mum.

Harry watched as his dad methodically graded papers. He was still hesitant to approach. What if last night had been some sort of strange dream? Before he took his first step he was startled when his dad broke the silence. "What is it, Harry?"

"I...I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to interrupt."

His dad put down his quill and looked to Harry. "No need to be sorry. You apparently have something on your mind."

Harry took a hesitant step forward. When it was obvious his dad wasn't going to chase him away, he became bolder and approached the desk. "It's just that I never told you last night...the reason me, Ron, and Hermione were in the library, I mean"

His dad folded his hands, steepling his long fingers. "Harry, you have nothing to confess. I know why you and your friends were in the library last night."

Harry blinked. "You do?"

"Of course, I do." The professor arose from his chair and approached Harry. He rested his hands on Harry's shoulders. "I blame myself. I should have realized you would want to commemorate your mother. Perhaps, we can do so together."

"Honestly?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Yes," his father answered with a nod. "I am shamed to say, but it has been years since I laid flowers at your mother's grave. Would you care to join me this Sunday?"

"Yes!" Harry flung himself at his father and hugged him tightly around his waist. He felt his father's body tense at the sudden embrace and let him go. "Sorry."

"Don't be," His dad said as he patted Harry on the back. "You merely took me by surprise."

Before Harry realized, he was being led towards the door. "If I'm not mistaken, your friends are awaiting you in the corridor," his dad said.

"Yeah," Harry acknowledged. "It's getting late and I have Quidditch practice right after dinner. You are coming to the game tomorrow, right?"

"I wouldn't miss it for all the galleons in Gringotts,"

"Good!" Harry said excitedly. "I'm going to make you proud and catch that Snitch!"

His dad's face tightened with a sour expression, but his eyes were smiling. "Yes, but just make sure Slytherin is up by 160 points before you do so."

Harry laughed, "Ha! Fat chance!" Then he ran out the door to meet Ron and Hermione.