Harry had always believed he'd had a brother, ever since the second grade when he'd seen a boy that looked just like him out on the playground. The boy, Calen Keagen, had been in a different second grade class than he had been so the only time of day Harry got to see him was at lunch recess. Harry knew better than to approach him though. Everybody knew that Dudley and his friends would give them a beating if they were seen speaking to Harry, and Harry hated to inflict that kind of pain on anybody, so he had settled on watching Calen at a distance. Calen had a few friends and Harry had always pretended to have conversations with the boy in his head, pretended that he was a part of the group of friends, playing ball in the schoolyard or laughing at some joke. He had been disappointed when Calen had moved away in the middle of third grade, and when he hadn't come back in fourth grade, Harry had given up all hope of seeing his make believe brother again; that was until he stood on a darkened stairwell at Hogwarts at eleven years old with a gaggle of other unsorted students, waiting for the stern looking Professor McGonagall to come back. Draco Malfoy had just gotten angry at Harry for refusing to shake his hand, and Harry had fully planned on turning around and ignoring him until the professor came back, but Malfoy began laughing and said, "Look everybody, there's a second Potter here. Maybe I was mistaken and this wasn't the real one!"

Harry turned with the other curious students and found himself staring at a boy at the back of the group. It was Calen, and Harry's heart skipped a beat. Dudley wasn't here now to make his life hell, Harry thought. There was nothing stopping him from going to the back of the line to talk with Calen.

"Shut up," Calen said from the back, face turning red. Harry tried to push his way to the back of the group as gently as possible, used to people laughing at him or putting him down and so not bothering to get angry just yet.

The group quieted a few moments later at a sound in the distance, but the door didn't open, and Harry was content to have some time alone with Calen.

"Lo," Harry said quietly. He held out his hand to Calen, who took it uncertainly for a brief moment in a shake. "My name's Harry."

Calen gave him a sideways glance. "I know," he said.

Harry bit his lip. He'd had so many conversations with this boy in his head, and now he could barely think of what to say. "He's a git then," Harry said. He wasn't used to talking to anybody but Dudley, aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon and their conversations were never very civil. A boy on the train, what was his name, Ron or something, had tried to talk to him, but he'd felt awkward and after a lot of silence, the boy had left to go to another compartment.

"Guess so," Calen said.

After a long pause, Harry hedged, "We do sorta look alike."

"Don't neither," came Calen's reply, and Harry looked Calen up and down in the cramped space. It was true, Harry thought, even if Calen did look a lot nicer than he did. His clothes had nicely sewn patches on the elbows and knees, unlike the ratty old jeans and shirt Harry was wearing under his robe, and while Calen's hair was wild like Harry's he still thought it looked more handsome. Harry would never look handsome, that much he knew.

"Well, we sorta have the same hair," Harry said.

Calen looked around, as if he expected others to be listening, but the other students were too anxious to be paying attention, and Draco was hassling another student up at the front of the line.

"No we don't, leave me alone."

Harry frowned. "I didn't mean anything by it," he said quietly. Feeling he'd pushed his luck so far, he took a small step sideways to give Calen some room just as the door at the top of the stairs had opened, revealing Professor McGonagall.

That night, Harry had been sorted into Gryffindor, who cheered loudly even though no one bothered to talk to Harry too much at the table that night, and Calen had been sorted into Ravenclaw. Harry watched him from across the hall and was surprised to find that the other boy spent the meal glaring up at the head table. When Harry followed his gaze, they fell on a stern looking man with long black hair who was glaring at Harry. Harry had worked on keeping his eyes on his too large meal after that.

While Dudley wasn't there to pick on him anymore, Harry didn't realize he'd be under the same sort of torture from Draco Malfoy. Perhaps he'd made a mistake in not befriending him on the first night, Harry often thought back on the event later. While Dudley wasn't there to stop him from talking to Calen, Malfoy was there to make fun of them any time Harry tried to talk to him between classes, or in Herbology, the one class that all four houses shared during first year.

"Bugger off," Calen told Harry on their third day after Harry had gone to stand at the same table in Herbology, and Draco had made fun of them, telling the whole class that they were brothers.

"Sorry," Harry said quietly. He almost never spoke up in class, and even when there were no professors around, he was still very soft spoken. Harry had tried to go to another table, but they were all full now, and he ended up right back across the table from Calen with his tray of pots and plants.

Calen gave him a dirty look.

"Sorry," Harry said again, trying to keep his eyes down on his tray. "It's full everywhere else."

Calen didn't say anything and they set to work repotting the little Cacti Ferungi. "Don't come around me anymore," Calen said a few minutes into it from another laugh and loud proclamation from a table full of Slytherins.

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to be made fun of," Calen said.

"Ok."

Harry understood, but he really wasn't happy about it. "We do look alike," Harry said again. "Maybe we are brothers," he joked.

Calen glared daggers at him. "Aint got no brothers. Only got one family member alive."

"Oh," Harry said. "I just have my aunt and uncle and cousin. You live with your mum or dad?"

"I live in an orphanage. But not after this year."

"Why's that?" Harry was surprised at the ease he felt now talking to this boy. Maybe all of those fake conversations in his head had paid off.

"Going to live with my dad after this. I just have to convince him to take me."

"He doesn't want you?" Harry felt in awe. Calen was everything Harry wasn't. He'd had friends in primary, his clothes were nice, his hair laid a little flatter, and he didn't wear glasses or have a scar. Even his eyes were a nice shade of blue, where Harry's were green. He couldn't imagine that if Calen had a father that he wouldn't want him.

"Doesn't know I'm his yet," Calen said. Determination seemed to have set into his eyes.

"But, he will?"

"He's a teacher here." Calen looked up when Harry hadn't said anything and found him staring at him. "It's Professor Snape," Calen finished.

Harry straightened up. Professor Snape definitely didn't like him. He'd made that clear on the first day of class, and in the hallway on the second day of school. This morning Harry had even found Snape glaring down at him from the head table again.

"How do you know?"

"My mum told me before she died."

"Oh." Silence hung between them for a few minutes as they continued planting.

"Think maybe he's my dad then too?" Harry asked, and Calen suddenly slammed down his trowel on the table, making people at other tables stare.

"No!"

Being used to angry outbursts from others, Harry didn't startle, but he did tense up.

"Just thought, since we looked alike and all..." Harry trailed off.

"What, you think Malfoy is right and you're my brother?" Calen sneered at him, as if the very idea was repulsive.

Harry shrugged.

"Well forget it. He's my dad, not yours. You just stay away from me." He gathered up his supplies and went to a table packed to the brim with Ravenclaws and squeezed in. He shot Harry several angry glances throughout the remainder of class, but after that, seemed intent to ignore him.

Harry once again took up a place of watching from a distance. With Draco Malfoy waiting to make fun of them, and Calen angry, Harry felt upset over the next few weeks that he couldn't talk to the other boy. It seemed to be a while before Calen made any friends, and Harry didn't know why, but it made him feel marginally better. He hadn't made any friends yet either. He sat next to Neville Longbottom in classes, but the other boys had already found a group and didn't seem to want much to do with him, even if he did hear them talking about how he had defeated the most dark and evil wizard of all time when he was only a year old. As far as Harry could tell, he was a disappointment to them. He was far too quiet to have defeated any wizard, especially a dark and powerful one.

* * *

Harry had tried to approach Calen several more times during their first year, and each time he was rebuffed with distaste. As the year wore on Calen seemed more and more determined to prove himself to Professor Snape in class, and Harry tried to keep pace, even to the point that he started to fall behind in Transfiguration because he was spending so much time studying for Potions. Every time Calen's grade went up in Potions, so did Harry's, much to the displeasure of Professor Snape. At first he had treated Harry like he was stupid, but now that Harry was one of the top three students in first year Potions, Snape was content to ignore him in class and pick on him in the halls when he found him. Harry was certain that Calen was his brother, it was almost like they were twins, and if Calen was sure that Snape was his father, then he must be Harry's father too, Harry reasoned, so he should work hard in Potions, even if his potential father didn't like him.

Things came to a head at the end of the year when Harry had Herbology one morning and noticed a change in the routine. Typically Professor Sprout called out roll, and Harry always listened for Calen's name to be called. On this particular day however, instead of calling out Calen Keagen, she called out, Calen Snape. Harry looked up along with some of his other classmates, while others seemed as if they'd already heard this change. Calen looked smug and slightly happier than he had all year. Harry tried to go to the same table Calen was at, but there was no room. After class he'd hurried to catch up with him, but Calen's Ravenclaw friends were surrounding him talking to him about class. In fact, it was a long few days before Harry was able to get to Calen at all. It was just before curfew and Harry had spotted Calen coming out of the library, and hurried once again to catch up to him.

"Hey," Harry said, "your last name is different now."

"I told you," Calen said. The first words he'd said to Harry since nearly the start of the year. "Professor Snape is my father. It's all official now. We went to the ministry last weekend to have my name changed and the paperwork drawn up." Harry sized him up briefly and noticed that Calen was wearing new clothes now instead of the gently cared for patched ones he'd had before and suddenly he felt inferior in his holey shoes and clothes.

"Did-" Harry paused, and Calen stopped walking to look at him. "Did you tell him about me?"

Harry supposed it had been because he'd been away from the Dursleys for so long now that he'd forgotten to be on guard, but suddenly Calen had pushed him up against the corridor wall and taken him by surprise.

"We're NOT brothers!" Calen said angrily. "I don't look like you, Snape isn't your father, he's MINE! So stay the HELL away from me!" He punched Harry in the stomach for good measure then and stalked away angrily, leaving Harry there on his hands and knees holding his stomach. It was the first time all year that Harry cried. It wasn't the pain of the punch even. The summer was ending and he really didn't want to go back to the Dursleys. Even if Professor Snape didn't like him, Harry thought he might be an ok father. He'd accepted Calen after all hadn't he? He and Harry looked so much alike, how could Harry not be Snape's son? Harry hadn't been having fake conversations in his head with Calen anymore, not since that first night at Hogwarts, but he had been imagining himself having a brother and father all year, living someplace safe and warm, and being a part of a real family. Calen was just like Dudley though, just like Draco. Maybe he didn't want a brother anymore.

Things didn't get any better for Harry when Professor August, one of the seventh year Professors rounded the corner a few minutes later and found Harry there on the floor holding his stomach. He took Harry to the Hospital Wing where Madam Pomfrey gave him bruise balm and a pain reliever, and proceeded to interrogate Harry about who had hit him. When Harry's mouth stayed shut, Professor August tried to get him to say, but Harry only crossed his arms and looked down at his lap. After Professor McGonagall had been called in, followed by Professor Snape who had happened to come in at that moment to speak with Madam Pomfrey about something, Harry knew he really couldn't say now. If he told, they'd just ask questions, like why he'd been hit in the first place, and with Snape there now, he couldn't say it was the man's newfound son. That would really drive a wedge between he and Harry and put any chances Harry had at eventually being accepted like Calen to a halt. Seeing Snape there staring at him Harry's stomach squirmed. He felt it in his bones that this man was his father, even if others said he looked just like James and Lily. He didn't know how that sort of thing worked, but he was sure it was true.

"C'mon Harry," Professor August tried again, sitting next to Harry on the bed. "Who did this?"

He shrugged. At least Professor August was nice. He was sort of like Dumbledore, but much younger. He was kind and friendly, and he didn't scare Harry all that much. Not like Uncle Vernon, or Filch or Snape, or even McGonagall if she was angry.

"If you don't tell us, we'll have to write home to your family."

Harry looked up at that, resolve not to tell faltering. No, that wouldn't be good. If they wrote home saying they'd found bruises, the Dursleys would be angry and think he'd told on them, and he would be seeing them in just two weeks.

"Calen," Harry said quietly, looking down.

"Which Calen?"

Harry shrugged again.

"Come on. You know as well as I do that there's more than one Calen in this school. We can't do anything about it until you tell us."

Harry gave a very brief glance up at a very irritated Professor Snape then, and then back down to his shoes. They weren't going to drop this. "Snape," he almost whispered. He heard a noise and looked up just in time to see Snape sweeping out of the Hospital Wing, letting the Hospital Wing doors bang closed.

August patted Harry's shoulder then and said, "Harry, why did he hit you?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't like me I guess."

"Because?"

"Said to leave him alone. Not to follow him."

"Harry?" Professor McGonagall sat down on the bed across from him now. "Don't take this the wrong way," she said it so gently that Harry almost forgot how stern she could be. "I've noticed you watching him throughout the year. Are you- attracted to him?"

Harry made a horrified face then and shouted, "No!" startling McGonagall and August. Madam Pomfrey had already left the room and it was just the three of them now. After seeing quiet, withdrawn, lonely Harry all year, hearing him shout was something else.

August gave McGonagall a look and she didn't press him further on the issue, but August did.

"Why do you follow him then?"

"I don't follow him really," Harry said. "I only have two classes with him and we eat at the same time."

He looked up to see if this would satisfy August, but the man was still waiting patiently.

Harry's shoulders slumped. "We sort of look alike." He looked up and saw that the two professors did not disagree. "And I don't have any friends here. He's the only person I know from before Hogwarts. I just wanted to be friends." The last came out almost a whisper.

"You knew him before Hogwarts?" Professor McGonagall asked.

He nodded. "We went to the same school for a couple of years."

August sighed and reached across the aisle from where he sat on the opposing bed next to McGonagall, and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Maybe it's best if you just stay away from him. He seems like a loner Harry and it's obvious from this incident that he's got a temper. Maybe Professor Snape can tame that a little," he said to McGonagall more than to Harry.

Madam Pomfrey came back then to give Harry another nasty potion to drink and the two Professors stood up and moved what they thought was an appropriate enough distance to talk without Harry hearing. Years of listening for any sound that might mean danger however meant that Harry had trained himself to hear a good way off, so he sat and pretended he wasn't listening.

"I don't envy Severus his task," August said. "Finding out you have a son and that he comes from an orphanage with a lot of baggage... that will be a long journey."

"Well, at least there's only two weeks until he'll get to take him home to Prince Manor and get him settled. Have you ever seen it? The grounds are nearly as big as the Hogwarts grounds."

They opened the door to leave the Hospital Wing but Harry was still listening.

"No. That will be a big change though, getting his own room and everything. I noticed Severus bought him new clothes already, they looked expensive too..."

The door banged shut and Harry could hear no more. This was awful Harry thought and he felt every bit of it. Harry would have given anything to go to an orphanage over the Dursleys, and now Calen, who already had it considerably better than he thought he had it, was getting to go live in their father's mansion? No, Harry didn't like that at all. He didn't want to return to four Privet Drive and the cupboard under the stairs and his little rag blanket and 2 inch thick mattress on the floor. He looked down at his faded t-shirt with holes along the bottom hem and frowned. How had Calen done it? He must have built himself up so much that when he told Professor Snape that he was his son, Snape just automatically wanted him.

A few moments later Madam Pomfrey came back and told Harry he was free to go. As Harry left, he wracked his brain for anything he could do in these last two weeks to prove himself to his father, anything at all. It was three days before he found an opportunity. One night in the common room as Harry sat at a table by himself studying for their final Potion's exam, he overheard Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger whispering furiously about a trap door, some sort of beast, and Professor Quirril going to steal a stone of some value. They were fighting because Ron wanted to go and stop Quirril (who consequently had given Harry the creeps all year), and Hermione didn't want to break the rules. This was it, Harry thought, and with wand in hand he left the second they spoke about the location of the door in the forbidden corridor. After a race upstairs to get his only Christmas present, an invisibility cloak the anonymous gift giver claimed had belonged to his father ‘James', Harry headed up to the third floor, and was sure that the hour and a half adventure and encounter with Voldemort that followed would change his father's mind for sure. Harry was to be sorely disappointed.

¬It was several days before he woke up after being found with the Sorcerer's stone in front of the mirror of Erised, and he hadn't been allowed to leave the Hospital Wing until the night before they were to return to London on the train. Harry never had the chance to approach Professor Snape to show off his bravado for saving the stone and facing Voldemort, and never had the chance to tell him he was positive that he Harry, was his son. In a bitter twist of fate, Harry's adventure accomplished nothing, and Calen went home with his father to be treated with love and dignity, while Harry returned to spend a less than pleasant summer at four Privet Drive.

Harry's summer had been downright miserable. The only positive thing about it was that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had both sent several letters to him. Harry had been surprised when the letters had shown up at all, each time delivered by different owls as he gardened or pulled weeds outside in the hot sun. He wondered each day if the owls hung around to wait for him since his cupboard had no windows.

Hermione's letter had come first and though Harry had opened it excitedly , his face had fallen to see that she was telling him off for running off recklessly like he had, to face down Quirril by himself. It was three pages of what Harry considered pure McGonagalish venom aimed directly at him. He wasn't going to answer at all until Ron's letter had come the next day, congratulating him on defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named a second time. Ron's letter had concluded with, ‘I didn't know you had it in you, you were so quite all year, and then BAM! You're off fighting that git under the turban! The professors were right mad at you until they realized you'd almost died. I reckon that's why you didn't get detention. Write me back. You can send the message back with our family owl.'

Ron's letter was much friendlier and Harry didn't hesitate to sneak inside for a pen and Muggle paper to write a reply back. Ron's letter had also emboldened him to write back to Hermione too, a reply he also sent away with Ron's family owl.

The letters continued back and forth for the remainder of the summer, and while Harry felt like he might be becoming friends with Ron via owl post, it was weeks before he and Hermione stopped arguing and she started asking him about other things like his summer homework and how his holiday was going. He wondered if Ron had written to her on Harry's behalf, as Ron was telling Harry half of what to say to her via letter every other day.

Even with the letters of his schoolmates however, Harry couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts. His family had treated him worse than ever over the summer break, even locking his wand and school trunk in the shed and not allowing him to do his summer homework. Harry would never consider telling his pen pals this, but as he boarded the Hogwarts Express the day they returned to school, he was covered in bruises under his ratty clothes. Dudley had even pushed him down the stairs the week before just to have a laugh, and Uncle Vernon had told Dudley ‘well done son' and had a good laugh too.

Sitting in a compartment by himself again, and not really expecting Ron or Hermione to want to sit with him, Harry gazed out the train window, surprised to see Calen carrying one end of a school trunk, and Professor Snape carrying the other. It didn't surprise him that they were together (he'd thought about them all summer and the unfairness of how Calen was there and Harry wasn't), but it was the length of Calen's hair. For the first time since Harry could remember, he no longer looked so much like Calen. Calen's hair was shoulder length and marginally straighter than Harry's. It wasn't as long as Professor Snape's, but it was on its way there.

Harry was frowning with his face nearly pressed up against the glass to see out, when he heard the compartment door slide open and found Ron there dragging his trunk in.

"There you are, been lugging this thing everywhere looking for you."

"For me?" Harry was surprised. Ron had wanted nothing to do with him the year before, and just as Calen had told him he didn't want to be made fun of by being seen with Harry, he figured now that the summer was over his communication with Ron would stop for the same reason.

"Yeah you. Help me with this."

Harry stood up uncertainly, feeling awkward, and lifted the other end of Ron's trunk to carry it inside so the door could slide closed.

"Dad said I can't use magic to lift it to the rack until the train pulls out of the station, but I want to do it before Hermione comes in and corrects my Wingardium Leviosa."

"So, you two are friends then?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure if he was friends with either of them or not. He'd never had a friend before.

Ron shrugged as he plopped down and opened his trunk to pull out two magazines and a comic book. "Well, after you fought Quirril she sat next to me and helped me study in the common room for the last two weeks, and she and I wrote over the summer, so maybe."

Harry wanted to ask if they were friends, but hesitated. He didn't know if that was an acceptable question to ask or not. Instead he glanced back out the window and saw that Calen and Professor Snape were gone, and asked, "Did you see Calen Snape's hair?"

"Down to his shoulders," Ron said with an air of distaste. "But he's Snape's son, I didn't expect any different. We saw them on Diagonalley when we went to get school supplies earlier in the summer."

Harry bit his lip. He hadn't been to get his school supplies yet, and he'd been worried about it for the last few weeks.

"Do you know... I mean, is there a way to get school supplies once we're at school?"

Ron looked up from the comic book he'd just opened. "You don't have yours yet?" Harry shook his head. "Not the books or robes or anything?"

"Nothing," Harry said. He'd tried on his robes that morning in the bathroom secretly to see if they still fit and was relieved to find that they did, though they were thin and worn and the color had mostly gone from them now from wearing them all year.

"Well," Ron said thoughtfully, "I reckon we can share books like Fred and George do, but I don't know about Potions supplies and the Dragon Hide gloves we were supposed to get. Maybe you can scrounge around the student supply cupboards for quills and ink and parchment too."

Harry sighed. That sounded like a plan, he thought. A better plan than he'd had that morning.

The train whistled then and Harry looked out the window again to see if he could spot Snape or his brother, but there was no sign of them. There were a few students hurrying to get on the train, but other than that the platform was empty.

A few minutes after the train had lurched forward and had started out of the station, the compartment door opened again and admitted Hermione. She looked stiff for a moment until Harry motioned to the seat next to him, and then she visibly relaxed and came inside levitating her trunk in from the hallway.

Ron and Harry watched her quietly as she put her trunk up next to Ron and Harry's.

"So," she said, sitting down with one of the new second year books, "will your second year be as exciting as your first?"

Harry mentally grumbled. It seemed like she was going to start in on him about the Quirril thing again.

"My first year wasn't exciting at all," Harry said.

"Well the end of it was."

"The end of it was a disaster," Harry admitted, remembering that his adventure had gotten him nowhere with his father or brother. For the millionth time since the meeting with Quirril, Harry wondered how his brother had gotten in good with their father. If he could figure that out, then he could figure out how to do the same. It was obvious that Calen wouldn't be helping him, so he'd have to do it on his own.

"This from the one who defended himself all summer about it?" Hermione asked.

"C'mon Hermione, lay off," Ron jumped in, finally putting his comic all the way down. "It was an epic battle and Harry won out."

"It was dangerous, and-"

"Did you come in here just to argue with us?" Ron's question hung in the air and Hermione's mouth hung open. Harry felt awkward again. He still wasn't sure if they were his friends or not or what was appropriate to say. He so rarely got to talk to anyone.

"I thought she came in because she liked us," Harry finally decided on saying. They turned to look at his quiet statement.

"I did," Hermione said, and picked up her book, cheeks turning red.

Harry raised his brows and Ron grinned, but Harry wasn't sure why.

After a few minutes, anxiety about Potions and Professor Snape started to fill Harry with dread. "Hermione, could I possibly borrow your potions text book?"

"Of course."

"Here," Ron said. He stood up and dug in his trunk for a quill and parchment and ink and handed them to Harry. Hermione watched as Harry took the book and writing utensils and started doing his summer homework.

"Are you doing homework?"

"Yes."

"You didn't do it at all over the summer?"

Sensing another argument, Ron said quickly, "He never got to go get school supplies. He doesn't have the books or any parchment or anything."

Hermione shook her head but didn't say anything. Instead she dug in her own trunk for a few minutes and came out with a neat stack of spiral bound Muggle notepads.

"Here are the notes you'll need for each assignment. It's not the answers, just the notes from the text so you don't have to read all of the chapters. The assignments are written on top."

Reaching up to take what was being offered to him, Harry felt grateful. "Thank you," he said quietly. No one had ever done something so nice for him before.

Harry worked on his assignments until Lunch when the trolley came through and Hermione bought him a sandwich and pumpkin juice since he had no money with him. Just as they finished lunch the compartment door opened again and a red head who turned out to be Ron's sister Ginny Weasley came in to sit with them, though she was as quiet as Harry was. Harry thought that he liked her very much, because he didn't feel like he had to force himself to talk around her to not feel awkward like he did around Ron and Hermione.

As it grew dark outside and they drew ever closer to Hogwarts, Harry's homework finally done, he was filled with a mixture of excitement, worry, and uncertainty. Last year had been Calen's year, he thought. Calen had figured the puzzle out and gotten himself a father. This year would be Harry's year. He'd do whatever it took to figure it out. The first order of business was to grow out his hair, he thought. If Calen had grown long hair then it was obvious to Harry that he'd done so to please their father. The second was to keep his grades up in Potions, Harry thought. Hermione was the first in Potions class right now, followed by Calen, and Harry was one point behind Calen, but this year he'd be on top, he was certain. And finally, the third order of business as soon as they got back to the castle, was to go to the library and figure out how he could possibly be Snape's son and Calen's brother. He supposedly looked just like James and Lily, but he also looked just like Calen with short hair! He'd been too smart to ask aunt Petunia how the whole baby thing worked this summer because he didn't want to get smacked, and he was sure his friends wouldn't know, so his only option was the library. Madam Pince had millions of books in there including Muggle ones, so he was sure she must have one on babies and parents.

With a plan in mind, Harry finally felt he was ready for the year, and just in time too as the train had pulled into Hogsmead and the students were disembarking. This would be his year, Harry said to himself again, deciding that he did have friends now as Ron and Hermione got off the train with him, Ginny trailing quietly behind. This is my year.

Harry had barely managed to scrape together his school supplies, and with Hermione's help, he'd mended some of his clothing and put some color back into his robes. He felt that if he was going to catch his father's attention, he should at least look presentable like Calen had last year, so he took care to mend each and every pair of pants he had, and he even borrowed a big permanent Muggle marker from Hermione to color his boots black again where they'd gone gray. He also glued the holes in his shoes closed with ‘Wizard Tight Glue' and prayed they'd hold up, especially when the winter came.

With Harry's newly patched clothing and new plan in mind, he seemed to have some new confidence that drew the other Gryffindor boys in their year to him. It was either that or the Quirril encounter, but Dean and Seamus were talking to him now, asking him questions and laughing with him in the corridors between classes and at meal times. Harry still felt awkward, but he thought if he could just blend, then nobody would see through him to his awkwardness too much.

Unfortunately his blending plan went south only eight days after school started. That's when the Quidditch tryout notices were posted up in the Gryffindor common room.

"We should try out," Ron said with a mouthful of apple Monday afternoon as they stared up at the poster on the overflowing bulletin board.

"For Quidditch?" Harry raised his brows into his long bangs.

"Yeah, why not? Second years are allowed."

"We don't have brooms though."

"No, but there are school brooms. If you're on a team you're allowed to borrow one for the year and stick your name on it. That's what Fred and George do."

"I don't fly that well," Harry said then. He didn't want to be in the spotlight, but Ron seemed eager.

"Liar. I saw you last year during classes. Saw you shoot up there and catch Neville's Remembrall.

Harry scrunched up his nose. Madam Hooch had seen it too and had marched straight out of the castle and chastised him harshly, and he'd vowed never to step a toe out of line again there at Hogwarts... at least until he'd gone to save the Philosopher's stone from Quirril.

"I don't know," Harry said.

"Well at least come and watch me try out."

Harry nodded. "Ok." He thought he could live with that. Thought being the key word.

Tryouts were held that Friday after dinner, and Harry like most of Gryffindor went down to the Quidditch pitch to watch the tryouts. Ron was already down on the field so Harry sat at the edge of the highest stands with Hermione and Ginny to watch.

"You look like you want to try out," Harry said to Ginny, and her cheeks turned red.

"I'm not allowed," she said shyly.

"Well, next year then, yeah?"

She nodded.

Leaning on the rail with his friends as the sun started it's slow descent through the sky, Harry watched as person after person tried for the Seeker position and were sent off the field, several for injuries, two because they just couldn't fly, and Ron for violating the rules before he'd been in the air for two minutes. The last person to try out was a fifth year boy that Harry thought looked far too big to be on a broom let alone play as Seeker. Harry hated to admit it, but playing Quidditch looked fun, and while the others trying out couldn't seem to keep their eye on the Snitch, Harry was sure that he could.

The burly boy climbed onto the school broom and rose into the air and Oliver Wood released the Snitch, the boy taking off after it. Harry was concentrating on the location of the Snitch so hard that he didn't notice that Ron had come up into the stands and was there next to him until he heard him say, "He's too slow. Looks like he's lost it."

Out of the corner of Harry's eye he saw one of the bludgers that Oliver had been letting loose during each tryout. It flew right up to the boy and unseated him from his broom. The boy held on just long enough to get his broom to the stands five or six feet in front of Harry, where he slipped off and fell to the lower stands twenty feet below. Harry didn't know what made him do it, even as he thought back on it in later years, but before he was aware of what he was doing, he was flying through the air from the stands and landing haphazardly on the vacant school broom which was still floating there. It was Hermione's scream and Ron's shout that brought him back to reality, where he was startled to find himself on the broom.

"GO!" Ron shouted and Harry's eyes searched through the waning light for a few seconds until they saw a glint of gold, and then he was off, lying flat to the broom handle, hand outstretched. In less than thirty seconds, he had the Snitch in hand. He had to focus on breathing because it felt like his breath had left him. It was excitement and joy like he'd never known before.

"You there! Get down to the ground!"

Harry gulped. It looked like his moment of triumph was to be short lived, and he descended quickly to the ground, where he watched Oliver Wood stomp over to him angrily.

"What do yeh think that was? It was stupid an dangerous! You're gonna get me banned as Captain pulling stunts like tha!"

Cheeks red, and aware that the whole of Gryffindor were up in the stands watching him along with the team who was now behind Oliver, Harry stared at his shoes and said nothing.

"Well? Answer me then!"

He looked up. "Wh- what was the question?"

Oliver put his hands on his hips and Harry locked eyes with him to avoid looking at the other players.

"What did yeh think yeh were doin?"

"I- I don't know," Harry said. "I was just watching the Snitch, and he fell off the broom, and the next thing I knew I was on the broom and flying after the Snitch. I just had to get it."

Oliver crossed his arms then and turned to look at the rest of the team. "And what did yeh feel when yeh were flyin?"

Harry allowed the feeling of joy and complete freedom to wash over him again temporarily as he thought about his answer.

"That look in his eyes says it," a boy behind Oliver said, and Harry snapped back to reality once again.

"Well?"

"L- love?" Harry said. He'd never said that word out loud. He'd never even really thought it before. But if this is what it felt like, then he wasn't afraid to admit it.

The team laughed and Oliver smirked and for a moment Harry felt embarrassed, but then Oliver stepped forward and patted him on the back.

"Yeh'll have teh save up yer money then, fer a broom."

"A broom?" Harry was feeling confused.

"Yeh made the team Potter... just don' go tellin McGongall how yeh did it."

Feeling in a daze, Harry listened as Oliver told him what the training schedule was and as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny ran up to him a few moments later.

"Wow!" Ron said. "I knew you could fly, but wow!"

Harry didn't hear much else on their way back to the castle as the sun finally set, not even Hermione's stern chastising for jumping out of forty foot high stands onto a broom five feet away. The only thing he did hear was Ginny's silence as they entered the Entrance Hall, and he turned to look at her, only to see her turn bright red and look away. He didn't know what that was about, but it gave him butterflies then and it gave him butterflies thinking about it later.

By morning the story about Harry's success on the Quidditch Pitch had spread to the rest of the school, much to the chargrin of Harry, and as it turned out, of Draco Malfoy and Calen as well. Harry didn't know why Draco was shooting him dirty looks or why Calen had shoved roughly past him at lunch until Ron brought a newly revised Quidditch roster to the table as lunch started.

"Look, you're the third second year to be named Seeker this year! Cedric Diggory's going to be embarrassed if he loses too much this year to second years, especially being a fifth year."

Harry glanced over at the school roster. "Calen and Draco are Seekers too?" His stomach did a fast somersault and he wasn't sure if he felt hungry anymore.

"Yeah, well I wouldn't worry about Draco too much. Fred and George said his dad bought his way onto the team by buying them all new brooms, and I'm not really sure about Calen. I haven't seen him fly, but if Draco's dad bought his way onto the team, it wouldn't surprise me if Professor Snape did it too for Snape Jr."

"That doesn't make any sense Ron," Ginny said. "He wants Slytherin to win."

Ron frowned. "Hey, that's right. So Calen must be bad if he got him onto the Ravenclaw team... insurance that Slytherin would win against Ravenclaw."

"I don't think that's what she was saying," Harry said, and noticed that Ginny had suddenly turned red again.

Over the next few weeks, Harry practiced hard with the team, feeling like he had little time to do anything other than practice and study Potions. He hadn't made it to the library yet to look up information on parents and children, though it was still at the back of his mind, especially with the upcoming match against Ravenclaw, the first match Harry would play in. He felt like there was a big dilemma. On the one hand, he couldn't let his team down, and didn't want to. He wanted to win more than anything else, especially since he felt it would mean proving himself to his father, who would surely be there to watch. On the other hand, if he won and beat Calen, he thought it would make his father hate him just a little more. It seemed like a lose-lose situation, but one he'd need to deal with either way.

By the time the match rolled around on Saturday, Harry had decided to do his best no matter what and let that decide the outcome.

During the game he couldn't help but look over to the stands where the majority of the Professors were sitting when he flew close enough to see their faces, but Snape was always looking off in the distance, most likely towards Calen. Professor August had given Harry a wave and a smile though and it gave him some cheer to know that at least someone was rooting for him.

Calen didn't look happy throughout the match, but he did seem as determined as ever, chasing Harry up and down the pitch and cutting him off any time he thought Harry had seen the Snitch. After only ten minutes though, Harry had grabbed the Snitch out of the air from above the Ravenclaw Keeper's right shoulder, and won the game. He was feeling mixed emotions about it though, as his brother looked downtrodden and Harry's eyes traveled up to the stands to where he knew Professor Snape surely wasn't happy, though everyone was too far away for him to make out.

Harry's team was quite happy with their first win of the season though, and though Harry knew none of them were really his friends, it was nice to pretend for a little while, while they slapped him on the back and congratulated him, telling him how good a Seeker he was. He wasn't able to get to Ron and Hermione after the game, not knowing where they were in the crowd that was now exciting the Pitch, so he ended up making his way back up to the castle amongst the crowd without his friends. Just as he was nearing the steps leading up into the castle, someone shoved roughly into him, knocking him and his broom to the ground.

"Just because Calen sucks doesn't mean I will," came Draco Malfoy's voice from above.

Harry looked up and felt he had the better sense to stay down lest he be pushed down again. When Draco saw that Harry was content not to say anything or get bent out of shape, he moved on, and Harry got up off the ground. Almost as soon as he had, a friendlier voice met his ears.

"Good game Harry. All right?"

He looked up to see Professor August smiling at him again. "Yes sir."

They let the last few students pass, including Professor Lockhart, who was regaling a group of third year girls with tales of how he'd defeated a hoard of banshees in an old hotel in London.

"How has your year been so far Harry?" August asked.

Harry shrugged. They'd only been back for a month and a half, and his bruises from Dudley and Uncle Vernon were almost gone, so that was good he supposed, but he didn't mention it to August.

"Well you got on the team didn't you?"

Harry did smile a little at that. "I didn't even try out, it was sorta just... an accident."

"I heard," August said with a chuckle.

Harry scanned the hall for Ron, Hermione, or Ginny but didn't see them amongst the students who were standing around talking.

"Well Harry, I'd best be off. I'm heading out for the rest of the weekend and I've still got to pack. I'm glad I got to stay to see you play though."

Looking up just in time to see August's smile again, Harry nodded and gave a little wave as August went up the grand staircase and disappeared from sight. Harry was thinking about heading to Gryffindor tower to change out of his gear so he could go to lunch, but Professor Snape's voice caught his attention. He looked around but couldn't see him. Maybe he was down the stairwell leading into the dungeons. The voice had been faint.

Moving to the entrance leading to the Dungeons, Harry paused as he heard his father's voice again. It was gentle and soothing, and Harry wished it was meant for him. Snape always talked so harshly to him during classes, no matter how well he did. Earlier in the week he'd reprimanded Harry for his tie looking dirty. It wasn't Harry's fault that it was stained. He couldn't afford a new one, and no matter how hard he had tried to spell it out, it stubbornly remained.

Ears perked as Harry tried to look innocuous standing there eavesdropping in the Entrance Hall, he heard Calen's voice faintly but couldn't hear what he'd said.

"Do not worry yourself over it," Snape said. "You will win next time. You still played a good game."

Harry heard another mumble from Calen, and then, "Potter is an insolent fool. He is lucky, not talented. The only reason he got onto the team is because they felt sorry for him. You got in because you're talented."

Harry felt stricken then, as though someone had suddenly taken an ice cold knife and stabbed him in the heart from behind. He straightened up so tight he thought his muscles would actually scream out in protest, and his breath caught in his throat. He heard footsteps then from the stairwell and hurried off, still feeling unable to breath. Up in his dorm room, Harry frantically ripped off his padding and equipment and threw each piece to the floor, out of breath.

Harry was shocked and disappointed, but he was surprised to feel angry as well. He didn't think he'd gotten in on pity, though now that he'd heard Snape's words, he started to doubt the talent people kept saying he had. Standing there by himself, Harry's mind worked frantically for anything he could remember about the day he'd tried out, anything that would prove his father was telling the truth, but he could think of nothing. The anger began bubbling hotter in his stomach and as soon as it did he felt even more determined to prove to Snape that he was his son. He'd prove that he was wrong and that he had talent, more talent than stupid Calen. Then he'd be praising Harry instead of Calen.

Remembering his quest to find out how he could be Snape's son, Harry grabbed a notebook and quill and stormed out of the room. Ron and Hermione didn't find him until after dinner that night, where Harry sat at the back of the library surrounded by stacks of books that he insisted weren't his. They wouldn't understand, Harry told himself when Hermione read the titles of a few of them. Not only that, but this was his secret. He didn't want them to ruin things for him in some way, not that they would mean to, but if Calen caught wind that Harry was trying to be claimed as Snape's son too, he could do some serious damage since he was already on the inside. No, he'd keep researching on his own, even if he did envy Hermione's ability to find information he would need in obscure books.

Harry was a little... disgusted, with what he'd found out about making babies. Maybe it was just because he'd never really been allowed to watch TV like Dudley had, but he'd had no idea that it involved a man and a woman... ugh, he shook himself mentally every time he'd accidentally started to think about Professor Snape and his mum. He'd found a number of old Muggle books as well as one magical one on how magical children could sometimes inherit magical traits from one parent or the other. Maybe that explained why he was actually pretty decent at Potions, he'd thought at first. The book was riding around in his book bag now right next to Ron's Potions book.

He knew for sure now that if he and Calen were brothers, and Professor Snape really was his father, then he and Calen must have had different mothers. That bothered him, because he and Calen were the same age, which meant that Snape had been with both women at once. He wondered if there was anyone he could ask who had known Lily, if she'd been with Snape 13 years ago.

After Harry had finally figured out the whole baby thing, he'd started to search for some sort of potion or spell that would tell him for sure if he was Snape's son. He worried that he wanted it so bad that perhaps he'd just made the whole possibility of it up, and had made up all the similarities between himself and Calen. He was having a hard time finding anything though, even in the household potions texts he'd been reading (which consequently had come in handy several times in Potions already when he'd been able to blurt out the answer to Snape's questions in class, much to Calen's chargrin).

Three weeks after his first Quidditch match, Harry spotted an opportunity to find out about paternity potions, but passed it up because he was embarrassed.

Draco Malfoy had knocked into him in the hallway again after dinner one night, sending Harry's bag to the floor and spilling its contents (just the book on magical conception and Ron's potion text), to the cobbled floor. Draco had smirked and hurried off as Harry picked himself up, but the embarrassment didn't end there. Harry turned just in time to see Professor McGonagall stooping down to pick up the book on babies. Judging by the look on her face, he might as well have had a book titled ‘How To Make Babies 101'.

"Mr. Potter, I think you and I had better have a talk." Her voice was cold and Harry was sure he felt the blood leaving his face. He was grateful no one else was around.

"It's not like that Professor," he started, but was unable to finish the sentence.

"Not like what Mr. Potter?"

Harry wasn't sure what to say. Did she suspect he was trying to find out how to do all the disgusting stuff in that book? He shuddered mentally.

"Not like whatever you're thinking," Harry finished lamely.

She turned the book over in her hand to look at the back, where Harry knew there was a summary that would make her think the worst.

"I'm willing to forgo jumping to conclusions given your age. Please explain to me your interest in this book."

Great. He didn't want to tell her he thought he was Snape's son. Even though she was his head of house he never felt comfortable talking to her. He wished he could tell her though, because then maybe she could help him find a potion to see if it really was true.

Thinking quickly Harry said, "I was trying to find out if I'm good at anything like my mum and dad were... someone said magical kids get traits from their parents." There, that didn't sound too lame, it was what the book was about anyhow.

McGonagall seemed to relax and then she had a look of pity that softened her face.

"I only knew your mother and father as their teacher, but I can tell you that James was an excellent flier. He was also a Seeker when he was in school. Lily was very good in charms."

Harry was going to ask her to say more about Lily, but hesitated. James Potter was good at flying? Just like he was? There was a knot growing in his stomach.

"You know who a good person to talk to would be, Professor August," she said then. "He used to be in a study group with your mother, and he played on the team with James. He was a year behind them."

"August?" Harry repeated, looking up again from where he'd been trying to figure things out by staring at the floor.

"Yes." She handed the book back to Harry, but Harry didn't take it.

"It's ok," he said, "I think I'm done with it."

"Very well," she gave him a smile and patted him on the shoulder once on her way by, presumably on her way to the library.

When she was gone, he let out a breath of relief. That had been close, and at the same time he felt harried to know that James Potter was good at Quidditch. He needed a potion to know who his parents were more than ever now, to know if his last hope at having a parent really was dead, or was the ever angry Potion's Master who put him down at every turn.

Though his opportunity with McGonagall had passed him by, another opportunity presented itself neatly the next day. It was Sunday afternoon and Harry was just coming from the Library when he met Professor August in the hall.

"Harry, there you are."

He stopped but didn't say anything. Here I am, he thought sullenly.

"Professor McGonagall said you were interested in your parents and how traits could be passed on. I know it's a bit past lunch already, but I've got some cookies in my office. If you want to come by I'll put on tea and I can tell you a little more about Lily and James."

"Ok," Harry said. He liked that August always smiled at him when he saw him. The other Professors were usually too hurried between classes to smile at students, but August never seemed to be in a hurry to get anywhere. He was also younger than most of the other Professors, like Snape was.

Harry followed August down a side corridor and into a very hip and comfortable looking office. The desk was modern, like August had picked it up from a Muggle store somewhere, and there were Quidditch posters on the walls for two teams Harry hadn't heard of. It looked like they were American by the sound of the names and the colors of the Jersey's. Instead of a student chair or desk facing his desk like in most of the other Professor's offices (Harry'd seen his share of Snape's office this year having earned four detentions already), there were two light blue bean bag chairs and two comfortable looking white armchairs all facing each other.

When August saw Harry looking at the chairs he said, "We have study group in here four times a week for those who are struggling and once a week for the advanced class. The sixth and seventh years like to be a little more relaxed while studying.

"You like Quidditch a lot?" Harry asked, eying the posters on the walls again, trying to stall to see which seat August would take first.

August laughed and nodded as he sat in one of the armchairs. Harry sat in the bean bag chair thinking it looked comfortable and because he'd never been allowed to sit in one before.

"Yeah, but my students make fun of me because I like the American and Canadian teams. They have some moves we just don't use here."

Harry was interested in hearing about those Quidditch moves, but he was there for another reason. He felt reasonably comfortable with August he thought, and maybe he could ask him about the potion he needed.

"Now then, I knew both of your parents in school. They were a year ahead of me, but I was on the Gryffindor team with James and I was in one of the advanced Charms classes with your mother so we studied together. Professor McGonagall said you were interested in some of the traits you might have inherited from them."

"Yeah," Harry said slowly, not wanting to admit he'd lied.

"Well your father was obviously very good at Quidditch. It didn't surprise me at all to hear that you'd leapt out of the stands to catch the Snitch and then described it as ‘love'." He chuckled.

"What about Professor Snape, is he good at Quidditch?"

August paused. "Severus?"

"Calen is good at Quidditch," Harry said, trying to sound as if he was just making an observation.

"Ah, yes," August gave him a look Harry couldn't decipher but decided it wasn't negative. "Well, Severus wasn't on a team, but it wasn't because he wasn't good. If I recall, they'd asked him to play several times but he always said no."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I don't know exactly, but I'd imagine it had something to do with your father. James and Severus didn't get along well."

Harry wanted to blurt out his next question, but paused to think about it. He had a feeling August was a fairly smart man and would figure out his line of questioning eventually. Finally he asked, "Because of Lily?"

"How would you know that?" August asked.

Harry didn't know how to answer. "Didn't Lily and Snape go together?"

"You sound as if you want to know." He paused and though his face didn't turn sour as most adults Harry'd encountered when they were trying to figure Harry out, he did look calculating. "You didn't have that book on wizarding parentage because you wanted to know about James and Lily did you?"

Harry bit his lip and wondered if he was in trouble. When August didn't start talking again, he took this to mean he was expected to answer.

"Professor McGonagall always gets the wrong idea about me," Harry said. "I didn't know what to tell her when she found the book."

"Well, Gryffindors are known for getting into trouble." August looked like he wanted to laugh but turned serious again. "Harry, why did you have the book?"

After fidgeting with his hands for a few moments, Harry said, "Well I wanted to know about babies and stuff."

"I have a feeling it wasn't just because you were curious."

"No," Harry agreed. He might as well just come out with it now. August was nice enough anyhow, maybe he would help Harry with that potion...

"I don't think James is my father."

"I see. And you think Professor Snape is?"

Harry nodded and August continued, finally piecing things together. "Because you look similar to Calen, and Calen is Snape's son." Harry nodded again as dawning spread over August's face.

"That's why you were curious about Calen last year."

"From the first time I saw Calen, I thought we were brothers back in primary school, and then he moved away. When I saw him here after we got off the train and I started talking to him, he said he had a father here, Professor Snape, and he was going to make sure he would take him by the end of the year. I said we looked a lot alike, and didn't he think I could be his brother, and he got upset. He didn't talk to me for the whole year after that."

"What about when he hit you at the end of the year?"

"It was right after Professor Snape took him. I wanted to ask him about it, and I asked if he mentioned me and he punched me and told me to leave him alone."

Professor August sighed and gave Harry a serious, though not unkind look. "Do you really think it's possible that Professor Snape is your father?"

"I'm good at flying, and so was he. I'm good at potions... really really good, and so is he. And me and Calen look just like each other with short hair."

"You look just like him with long hair too," August said, motioning to Harry's growing hair, which was now half way down his neck after not cutting it for two months. When this only seemed to boost Harry's spirit, August held up his hand and said, "Look. Professor Snape isn't an easy man to get along with. He and I get along fine, we're family-"

"You're related to him?"

"We're cousins, but his side of the family didn't like my side, so I've never been to his property or anything. We were friends in school though."

"You won't tell him will you?" Harry asked, feeling panicked.

August looked at him. "No, I won't tell him. I don't think you realize what it would be to be his son."

Harry stared at August and said seriously, "I don't know what it's like to be anybody's son," and August sat back and closed his mouth. Good, Harry thought quietly, that statement had the effect he'd wanted it to.

"He's not very nice to you, and you still want to find out if he's your father?"

"Yes."

"What about your other family?"

"I'd rather have Professor Snape."

August sighed. If Harry would rather have Severus, who made it no secret that he hated him, then that was really saying something about Harry's other family. Who did he live with again?

"Was it your mother's sister you live with?"

"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon," Harry said quietly.

They were quiet for long moments and Harry felt deflated. Maybe August wouldn't help him after all. But then he blind sighted Harry with, "What's your plan?"

"My plan?"

"You seem determined, like Calen. I assume you have a plan to find out the truth, and then if it's as you suspect, win him over to your side like Calen did."

"My last plan backfired," Harry said.

"What was that?"

"Quirril."

"You did that to impress Severus?"

Harry nodded but his cheeks were growing hot because of the incredulous look August was giving him.

"Nobody knew why you did it. The Headmaster thinks you're very brave and wanted to keep the Philosopher's Stone safe... but now I see that you're determined. That was very dangerous Harry."

"I know, Hermione wrote me letters telling me that all summer."

"Hm."

"I had that book because I was looking for some sort of paternity potion I could brew to figure it out. The Muggles have something like that."

"There isn't a potion I know of, but there is a spell. It's very simple actually. They probably preformed it on Calen at the Ministry before signing custody of him over to Severus."

"What is it?"

August looked wary. "I'm not sure I should tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because a boy who belongs to Gryffindor house, leaps out of Quidditch stands, and goes after a man with You-Know-Who stuck to the back of his head might do something rash."

Harry scrunched up his nose. "The Quirril thing was a little hasty," he admitted, "but if he really is my father, don't you think I ought to be allowed to know? If you don't tell me I'll find it in a book somewhere, it'll just take me longer." Harry was already imagining a spell he could secretly cast on his father during Potion's class without anyone being any the wiser.

With a long sigh, August said, "All you have to do is mix a drop of your blood with a drop of his blood."

"That's it?"

"That's it. If he's your father, it will bubble, like a potion in a cauldron. If not, it won't do anything. It's the magic intermingling and getting familiar again. If he is your father, you have part of his magic, that's why some magical traits are passed down sometimes from parent to child."

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Did Professor Snape and my mum date?"

"They dated in school. That's why James and he didn't get along. James liked Lily and he was always trying to make Severus look bad in front of her. Maybe that's why he treats you so poorly."

"What do you mean?"

"As much as you look like Calen, you do look very similar to James, from the hair to the glasses, and if Severus thinks you're James' son, then it's like every time he sees you he's lost to James all over again."

"Well if I'm really Professor Snape's son, then he'd be happy right?"

"I don't know Harry. I don't want you to get hurt having high expectations. He's a complicated man."

"Calen is happy."

"It would seem so."

Harry looked down at his watch then and realized he was going to miss dinner if he didn't leave soon. He'd been so engaged in the conversation that the time had flown by. He wouldn't mind staying longer, because August had given him a lot of information and a lot to think about, but he hated to miss a meal. If the Dursleys had taught him one thing, it was to never take a meal for granted, and Harry didn't.

"Looks like dinner time," August said for Harry, taking the awkwardness out of it for him. He stood up and so did Harry. Harry made for the door, but August held out a hand to stop him and said, "Harry."

Harry turned. "I don't want to read a headline in the Daily Prophet proclaiming ‘Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School - attacked by a 4 foot tall unknown assailant - massive blood loss....'"

Harry grinned. "No sir, I don't expect you'll have to read anything like that."

"Good. Go on then. And Harry... my door is always open to you."

"Thanks Professor August." He smiled again, feeling happy, and hurried off to dinner, hoping to catch up with Ron and Hermione.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure how he was going to get a drop of Snape's blood, especially without help from someone like Calen, who was always near the man. Harry almost considered approaching him again, but after Calen caught him looking in his direction in Potions and shot him a nasty look, Harry nixed the idea. He supposed maybe if he came clean with Ron and Hermione they might help him, but he nixed that idea as well. He wasn't ready to tell them yet. What if he really was wrong and he turned out to be James Potter's son after all? He didn't want to look desperate... even if he felt it.

With no plan on how to get his father's blood, Harry continued on with his classes and Quidditch practice through November and right into December. He never looked forward to December as a rule, because he never got any presents, but at least staying in the dorms by himself was better than staying with the Dursleys. In fact, Harry wished for nothing more all through the first week of December, that he could just be left to his own devices and stay in Gryffindor for Christmas, but apparently that wouldn't be happening.

December 1st had started off well enough, Harry thought. He'd begun the day by standing in front of the mirror and admiring his newly grown hair. He'd found a spell to help it along in the library and it had grown an inch overnight. It was now just as long as Calen's was. Despite a comment from Ron that he should cut it, Harry felt like it was going to be a good day.

He'd gone to his first few classes without incident, but after lunch Harry found himself alone in the Charms corridor with Calen. It was the first time since the end of first year that they'd been alone, but Harry was forcefully reminded of that encounter when Calen came out of nowhere and slammed him hard into a wall. Calen was better built than he was, and Harry thought it was because he had been fed more often, but didn't say so.

"What-the-hell Potter?"

He looked disgusted as he looked at Harry's hair, but Harry didn't say anything.

"What's your dysfunction? Why the hell can't you just leave me alone?"

"I haven't done anything to you. I haven't even talked to you this year." Harry was a little angry to be accused like this.

"You grew your hair out to look just like mine. Are you mental or something? You're NOT me and you NEVER will be! Stop copying everything I do!"

"I can grow my hair out if I want to! Bugger off!"

"It's not just the hair Potter." He was still holding Harry against the wall with his arm across his chest, and Harry wondered if he'd get punched again. "I join a Quidditch team as Seeker, so you try out as Seeker? I get good grades in Potions, so you do too? My hair is long and so you start growing yours out?"

Harry actually smirked then, he didn't know what made him do it, but he imagined he must have looked like Draco. Then he said in a smooth voice, one that wasn't like him at all, "I don't even like you Calen, why would I want to be like you? You suck on the Quidditch field, and you're the third in Potions, I'm the second."

Calen looked angrier than he had before and dug his elbow into Harry's chest, making Harry wince.

"He's my father Potter, not ours, not yours. You're delusional, you're dreaming, and you're done." He let go of Harry then and stalked away. Harry was surprised with himself and surprised that he hadn't really gotten it from Calen after the way he'd acted. At this point the truth was that the only thing Calen had that Harry wanted was their father. Harry would give up the Quidditch team and the long hair and the Potions grades if he could just have someone to love him and care for him as Snape did for Calen. Harry stared at Calen's back as he stalked off and once again took note that Calen was wearing new and expensive looking shoes, designer jeans and a nice blue polo shirt under his unbuttoned robes. It just made Harry hate him more.

Harry thought the encounter with Calen had been the end of it, but as it turned out, his bad luck that day was just starting.

After dinner he was on his way to one of the student study rooms near the library to study potions with Hermione (the two of them were now in a fierce competition for the number one spot in Potions), when he heard Snape call out. Harry almost didn't hear him, because he was mentally preparing himself for a battle with Hermione. She had been trying to convince him to let off of his Potions studies because he was neglecting his other classes and wasn't doing well in Transfiguration, even though his Charms grade had recently been going up thanks to the information he'd learned from Professor August.

"Calen."

Harry's ears perked a little and he pulled himself from his mental preparations to fight with Hermione. He turned, expecting to see Calen somewhere if Snape was calling for him, but found only Professor Snape, who stopped upon seeing him. If Harry wasn't used to searching for even the smallest traces of emotional change in people such as the Dursleys, he might not have even seen the flash of confusion on Snape's face, but it was there, and then it was gone, morphing to anger just as quickly.

Snape stalked over to Harry and grabbed him by the front of the robes. Harry thought he'd lift him off the ground and allowed his eyes to widen in fright and confusion as they stared into Snape's narrowed eyes.

"Potter," Snape spat angrily. His eyes raked over Harry's hair and face as if he wished to do him harm, and Harry wanted to flinch away but couldn't.

Not letting go of the front of his robes, Snape said angrily, "I didn't think it was true, but I see now that Calen wasn't lying. Tell me Potter, do you derive some sort of sick pleasure from trying to imitate my son? Are you simply trying to rile him or do you really want to be him as badly as he says you do?"

Harry's heart sank, had Calen told him that Harry thought he was Snape's son?

"No sir," Harry said, voice faint.

"No sir what Potter? You're not trying to rile him and you're trying to be him, or you're trying to rile him and not trying to be him?"

"Neither," Harry said.

"Then you won't mind if I do this." Suddenly Snape's wand had come out of nowhere and transformed into a knife, and with a strong grip on the front of Harry's robes, he brought his hand around to the back of Harry's head and sliced off his hair in one swift motion. He shoved Harry away from him, letting go of his robes, and snarled a grin of satisfaction. Harry felt sick.

He looked down to the ground and saw several inches of his black hair there on the floor. So full of hurt and anger he could not stand it anymore, he looked up at his father, a man who despised him and said, "I hate you."

"I'm hurt Potter," Snape mocked. "You will stay away from my son. You will cease this irritating behavior of imitating him at once, or I will see to it that mind healers are brought in from St. Mungos to look you over. Am I understood?"

Harry's chest was so tight he couldn't even stand to speak, so he glared with as much force and hatred as he could muster at the man.

"Well?"

"Yes- sir." He ground it out through gritted teeth.

Snape turned and stalked away, and Harry turned and kicked the wall so hard his toes hurt inside his ripped, three year old, too tight shoes. If this was the way Snapes acted, maybe he wasn't a Snape at all.

Hermione asked Harry about his hair when he finally made it to the study room, but when he threw Ron's second hand Potions book against the wall, she closed her mouth and gave him his space for the rest of the evening.

Later that night, as Harry and Hermione returned to Gryffindor common room, McGonagall appeared and pulled Harry aside. He was still angry but he felt more defeated and hurt than anything else.

"Mr. Potter. I've just come from the Headmaster. I was told to give you this."

Harry looked down at a folded piece of parchment.

"What is it?"

"It's a letter saying that this year you're to return to your aunt and uncle's house for Christmas."

His heart sank even further. "Why?"

"I don't know Mr. Potter. I do know that Professor Snape spoke to the Headmaster just before I was called to speak with him. Have you gotten yourself into some kind of trouble?"

"Some kind," Harry mumbled, and took the letter up to his room. It said little more than what McGonagall had just told him, aside from to add that the Headmaster thought it would do Harry ‘some good' to see his family.

Over the course of the next week, Harry moped and dreaded his return to four Privet Drive. He barely spoke to his friends, and made little effort at the last Quidditch practice of the term before Christmas break rolled around. On Friday the 7th, the day before they were going to return home on the train, Harry started to feel panicked again, like he had at the end of his first year, and felt like he should do something to prove himself right. It was double Potions that day with the Slytherins and he turned his attention to getting a drop of Snape's blood again. Without the Dragonhide gloves he was supposed to have that year in Potions, Harry had been careful all year not to burn himself on the special cauldrons they were working with, but his mind was so adrift that day, desperately trying to come up with any way to get a drop of Snape's blood, that he allowed both hands to touch his hot cauldron and they burned.

Yanking his hands back and hissing, he drew Hermione's attention but quickly hid his hands under the table. He wouldn't give Snape any sort of satisfaction berating him because he'd burned himself and if Hermione saw she'd be sure to tell on him.

So with burned hands, a damaged ego, and no hope at all for a happy Christmas, Harry returned on the Hogwarts Express to London. He never expected that Snape getting him kicked out of the school for Christmas break might actually turn out in his favor.

It was the burnt hands that did him in. The second they'd gotten back to Privet Drive and in the front door, aunt Petunia had sneered down at him and asked, "What did you do to your hands fool boy?"

"I burned them aunt Petunia."

"On what?"

It was a trap. He knew he wasn't allowed to talk about anything magical or about any of his classes or the school. They hated magic and saying anything about his life away from Privet Drive was like cursing to the Dursleys, only Harry's punishment was always terrible and harsh.

"I was cooking something aunt Petunia."

"And they don't have any supervision at that school of yours? They expect to send you home so we can pay the medical bills for their stupidity?"

"I didn't have the gloves I needed."

"What gloves? You're so special you need gloves to cook?"

"I told you Petunia, it's a crackpot school they're running. Teaching them ‘parlor' tricks," Vernon piped in.

Harry looked back and forth between Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and even glanced at Dudley who smirked, meaning this was not going to turn out well for Harry no matter what he said.

"Dragon hide gloves aunt Petunia."

That had been the end of it. Dragons were not real, and Harry had told a lie, so he had to be punished... severely. It was hours before Harry woke up from his punishment, and he was more than dismayed to find that he was alone in the back seat of the car with Uncle Vernon up front driving. His body ached everywhere, his shirt was torn more than usual, and he was missing his right shoe. He also noted that his trunk and wand were not there.

"Where are we going?" Harry croaked. He couldn't see anything of the outside world because he was half laying on the back seat, half laying on the floor. There were flashes from streetlights in the darkness, and that was all.

"Back to London boy. We're not going to have any of your freakishness in our home around the holidays."

"But I can't get back to school until January."

From his side view of uncle Vernon's face, he saw him smile and it made him feel sick, or maybe it was just the way his stomach felt from the injuries.

Harry thought of trying to sit up to bail out of the car, but that wouldn't help. He'd still be without his wand and trunk in a place he didn't know with no money, and risking more injury to boot. No, he'd be better off going back to London. Maybe he could find someone on Platform Nine and Three Quarters to help get a message to Professor August at Hogwarts, or wherever he had gone for the holidays.

Losing track of time, Harry was surprised when the car came to a sudden halt. "Out boy."

Harry tried to sit up but was unable, so uncle Vernon got out of the car and came around to the back passenger door, where he angrily opened it and hauled Harry out onto the sidewalk. Harry landed with a moan and Vernon slammed the car door.

"See what such unnaturalness gets you boy?"

Feeling he had nothing to lose at this point, Harry said with a scowl, "Better put me back in the car or I'll put a curse on you!"

"With no wand to wave around?" Vernon taunted, but he looked worried.

"I'm going to count to three," Harry threated, but uncle Vernon ran back to the driver's side, and Harry threw caution to the wind and began screaming a string of nonsense words as the door slammed and his uncle sped away.

"Damn it," Harry said, feeling sullen. He lay there on the dark cold sidewalk for what felt like hours, just willing himself to get up. It wasn't in him to let things end this way, not yet, not when he didn't know for sure yet if he had a real family out there somewhere.

He looked at his watch eventually, but it was broken now, the glass cracked and the hands unmoving. Slowly and painfully he pushed himself up off the ground and staggered towards a cheerful looking store front, where he saw just how awful he looked in the reflection of the window glass. He had a black eye, his hair was a mess, there was a bruise on his cheek, and there was dried blood on his bottom lip and trailing down from his nose. They'd really done a job on him this time. He felt his torso and flexed all of his limbs as best he could, trying to take stock and see if there were any broken bones. It didn't feel like there were but he could tell his entire body was covered in bruises. He wished he could just crawl into a nice warm bed, even if it were just the thin mattress in his cupboard under the stairs. He was thankful however that by some miracle it wasn't snowing yet, though it was very cold.

Harry forced his feet to start walking so he could look for anyplace at all that looked warm and safe where he could sleep for the night. Before long, he found a narrow alley that looked like it might be sheltered from the wind, and slumped down against the stone wall behind some trash cans. He lay down on the hard, gravelly surface of the road and fell into a very difficult sleep.

* * *

People must have felt sorry for him. He was dirty and sullen looking, a far cry from the upper-class shopping district he'd been dumped in with clean and well-dressed people who looked far too cheery as they did their holiday shopping. For the first three days Harry actually ate fairly well. One woman who had a girl his age gave him a pastry for breakfast that first morning before continuing on her way, and for lunch he used the coins people had handed him to buy something from a street vendor. He still felt hungry all the time though, maybe because his body was using more energy because it was so cold.

Despite the kindness from strangers, Harry still ended up digging through rubbish bins in the alleys and in front of shops, looking for half eaten food people had thrown away, or anything he could use to cover himself with. At night he'd been stuffing newspapers up the front and back of his shirt and into his pant legs trying to stay warm. It never worked very well, but at least it was something. To keep warm he tried not to go to sleep until he had to, despite how tired he was all the time, so he walked around in the evenings looking at the Christmas lights the stores had put up in their windows and around their doors, watching people who looked happy, and pretending that he was just strolling down this street on a shopping trip for gifts he would give to a family that loved and wanted him. It made him feel sad when he imagined it would be a happy Christmas, because he could never convince himself. It was only by determination not to let it end this way, as it had been the first night, that kept Harry going, kept him getting up each morning, kept him eating food from rubbish bins. It was his will to make it back to Hogwarts that carried him through a week and a half of living on the streets, right up to the day that he came face to face with the people who had played such a large part in putting him there.

* * *

Severus Snape liked to think that he was a good man. There were no delusions that he hadn't done bad things in his life, and he knew he had failed at a great number of things, but he still considered himself on the right side of things most of the time. For instance, the son he didn't realize he'd had, who had come to him at eleven with determination set in his eyes to prove that he had a father. Calen had told him flat out after class one day, "Sir I have to talk to you. I'm your son, and I'm coming home with you for the summer."

With a statement like that, he didn't even stop to think that the boy had been joking. With his reputation amongst the students, he couldn't see one of them claiming to be his son unless it was true.

After preforming a quick and discrete test to check, he'd taken Calen to the Ministry straightaway to have the paperwork drawn up, and tried as best as he could to provide for all the boy's needs, material and emotional. At first he hadn't liked the idea of being a father, but now he found he quite liked it. Calen looked up to him and came to him for advice, and he enjoyed building up his son's ego and teaching him things, passing things on to Calen that his grandfather had passed on to him.

This would be the first Christmas they spent together and while he'd already gotten Calen a great number of expensive gifts, he still wanted to take him shopping. Calen only had one friend in Ravenclaw, and Severus wanted to give him a chance to get Benny a gift to send off for Christmas.

He felt very fortunate as a father on this particular shopping trip however, to pass on something good to his son that his son seemed to be lacking. Since Calen had come to him, he'd done his best to provide for him, even to the point of spoiling him, and Calen rarely saw the need to give to anyone else. So when Severus spotted a homeless child that looked to be about Calen's age, digging through a trash can with his back to them, he reached into his pocket and withdrew several Muggle coins.

"Here, go and give this to him."

Calen looked up. "What for?"

"Because it's the holidays and he needs it."

Calen looked as if he weren't happy about giving the money away, but took it and hesitantly walked forward anyway. While Calen had endured some hardship living in an orphanage, he had never known what it was to truly be poor and rely on the kindness of total strangers. It was something Severus hoped he would never have to do. He hoped that he could teach him through small acts of kindness to truly appreciate what he had and also learn to give of himself to others.

"Er, here." Calen approached the boy uncertainly, looking uncomfortable and held out the coins. It took a moment before the homeless boy pulled his head and arms out of the trash can and stood up to see if someone was talking to him. Severus stared at the child who stood there staring at his son. His face was dirty, he was badly bruised as if he'd been in a car wreck, and he was missing one shoe. It was more than the state of him though that made Severus stare... he knew who this boy was, and while he really thought his eyes were deceiving him, it seemed that Calen recognized him too.

Harry Potter stared at the money being offered down to him by Calen, his brother, and wasn't sure what to do. Seeing his family offer him money... well, it made him feel empty inside. His eyes darted from Calen to the tall Potions Master, and then back to the few coins in Calen's hand. Calen looked so shocked to see Harry there, that he hadn't yet dropped his arm.

Harry held out his hand palm up and Calen dropped the coins into it. Harry looked down at the money. It might be enough to get a hot meal. The first meal he would have eaten in days. It had snowed for the last few nights and Harry, feeling the effects of the bitter cold, almost considered buying a hot chocolate instead. With a sigh, he looked down at the ground and moved past the father and son that wanted nothing to do with him, being careful to keep his shoeless foot, which was wrapped in newspapers and twine, out of any puddles or snow.

"Potter!" Snape was calling after him, but Harry ignored him. He didn't want them to see him like this. What good would it do anyway? They cared nothing for him. The only reason they'd probably given him money in the first place was because they thought he was someone else. Maybe they wanted their money back now he thought. Knowing there was a pub that served food just a few doors up, Harry hurried to get inside. He hadn't been inside before and he doubted very much they'd serve him with the way he looked, but he wanted to get out of sight of the two Snapes.

Inside, Harry let the wash of warmth come over him and would have been content to just stand there for a few moments letting his skin warm up, but people were looking at him, so he moved to the counter where the bar keep gave him a dismayed look.

"Please sir," Harry said, holding up the coins. "Can I have something to eat?"

"We don't serve people without shoes here." He pointed to the sign back near the door and Harry turned to look, but found Snape and Calen standing there in the open doorway staring at him instead.

"Not even a hot chocolate?" Harry asked, feeling desperate as he turned back to the man.

"I'm sorry son. You'll scare away the customers."

Harry dropped his hand, coins still there and turned to head back for the door, hoping Professor Snape wouldn't make a scene and try to detain him. Luckily the man let him pass without a word. Maybe they weren't following me, Harry thought, why would they, they don't care. No, they were probably heading in to get some lunch.

"Potter stop!"

As the bitter cold bit at his hands and cheeks again upon exiting back out onto the icy sidewalk, he heard the Potion's Master calling his name again, but he didn't turn back and instead hurried down the street. He'd gotten to know this street and it's back alleys fairly well over the last week and a half, and he hoped he could lose them if he could just get back to his alley. He was cold and tired though and still very injured and couldn't hope to move as fast as they could.

"Potter!"

Harry broke out into as much of a run as he could. He was almost back to his alley where his newspapers and his trashcans were. Just as he turned into it though, a strong hand gripped his bruised upper arm and made him stop.

"Just- just leave me alone," Harry said, angrily at first but then he added tiredly, "please."

"Potter-" If Harry hadn't been staring at the ground he might have seen the lost look on his Professor's face. As it was though, Severus wasn't sure what to say to the child now that he'd caught him. As Harry's eyes remained glued to the ground and Calen remained silent just behind his father, Severus took in the chapped red appearance of Harry's cheeks, his dry cracked lips, and the dirty nature of the boy's messy hair, the hair that he had recently cut short with a knife in the safety of a school corridor. Suddenly he felt very guilty about that, guilt being an emotion he was not accustomed to and often ignored.

"Why are you here, where is your family?" It was the only question Severus could think to ask. Potter was obviously embarrassed and didn't want them to see him like this.

"I think you've got the wrong person sir," Harry mumbled, looking down.

"I'm staring at Harry Potter. Now answer my question." He couldn't help but be irritated with the whelp. The child always had a way of irritating him nearly every time he spoke.

"Don't have a family," Harry said then, still staring down. Severus didn't know that Harry was choosing to stare at the ground at this moment so that he wouldn't get angry or start crying. Inside the anger was burning in Harry's stomach and so was the hurt. They were intermingled and begging to be let out. Harry wryly thought about what Professor August had said then, about not seeing a headline about the Potions Master being attacked for his blood, and it calmed Harry for a moment, making him laugh a little inside.

"You are supposed to be with your aunt and uncle," Severus said, anger starting to come through in his voice now. He let go of Harry's arm and Harry fell back the few inches to the brick wall behind him, holding his arm where Snape's grip had aggravated his injuries.

"Don't have a family," Harry repeated, staring somewhere in the vicinity of Snape's shirt buttons. What he really wanted to say was, ‘my family's standing right in front of me and they don't want me because Calen's a spoilt brat and my father's a git,' but he didn't.

"Potter, if you won't answer my questions, I will drag you to Surrey myself and seek out the answers the-"

"I DON'T HAVE A FAMILY!" Harry shouted, cutting him off and feeling as though he had snapped at last. He had finally looked up and his red chapped cheeks made him look rather angry. He just wanted to have done with it. "MY FAMILY- my family," Harry lowered his voice, not wanting the police to be called because then he wouldn't be allowed to live in his alley anymore, "is standing right in front of me you stupid git. My family wants nothing to do with me. My brother is a spoilt little brat who likes strutting around the school and punching people, and my father is a big stupid oaf who tortures his kids and violates them by slashing off their hair for no reason at all!"

"You'd better reel your tongue back in Potter, or I'll spell it to the roof of your mouth! I will not stand here and listen to your asinine fantasies. I knew I should have fire-called St. Mungos-"

Harry watched with some satisfaction as Snape's eyes widened and Calen looked confused, as Harry reached down to the ground suddenly and picked up a jagged rock and then proceeded to slice open his hand and let the blood drip down to the ground in a pool. He realized that he must have looked incensed. He felt as angry as Snape looked. They locked eyes as Calen looked back and forth between the two of them. Go on Snape, do it, Harry thought, add your blood, you know what this spell is. He was daring him to do it the second he'd cut his hand open. It was the moment of truth, and woe unto him if he was wrong. He wondered if August would care enough to come get him out of the insane asylum at Mungos if Snape actually took him there.

"Asinine," Snape spat, but he didn't break eye contact as he withdrew his wand and the same blade that had cut Harry's hair appeared at the end of it. He made a tiny pin prick in his finger and squeezed it with his other finger, letting a drop of it fall to the ground into Harry's little pool of blood, which was now starting to congeal because it was so bitterly cold outside.

"Go on. Look at it," Harry dared in a bitter voice. Snape finally broke eye contact with him, though he looked murderous, and looked down to the blood. Harry looked to see Calen was looking too, and then stared down at it himself. It was bubbling like a potion in a hot cauldron, and Harry wasn't sure if it was relief washing over him or total uncertainty to find out he was a Snape, a part of this family that for all he had seen so far, was as cruel as the Dursleys.

Harry didn't look back up, and neither did Snape who was still staring down at the magic intermingling between the two blood samples.

Suddenly Severus felt unsure of himself. Only minutes before he'd been strolling down the alley with his son, feeling good about himself, feeling good about sharing a lesson with his son about giving to those in need as any good father would. Now he stood before another son he didn't know he'd had, a son he'd been cruel to, a son who was in great need. If he turned him away, stalked away with Calen and never looked back, he would be teaching Calen everything the opposite of what he'd intended to. But could he really take Harry? Could he really take this awkward, irritating child that Lily had given to him, not in life but in death?

Confusion and uncertainty boiled in him along with more guilt than he'd felt in a long time, and he covered it up with a strong look of hate and anger. He took Calen's arm and then gripped Harry's and disapparated. This was not going to be the joyous Christmas he had planned.

Harry had no energy left for fighting after his father (he really liked to say that to himself and be certain) had apparated them to his home somewhere in the wooded hills of- well, Harry wasn't really sure where they were. He'd seen a large sprawling house and big open lawns covered in snow and fog when they'd arrived, and feeling sick, had allowed Snape to guide him up a lot of stairs, still holding his arm tightly and into a room where he was deposited onto a soft bed. He was on autopilot and while his mind wanted to take everything in, he didn't feel capable of that much just then.

He supposed that Snape had come in and out of the room where he'd left him several times, but Harry was too busy ignoring everything and taking the opportunity to sleep as much as he could. He'd had a hard time on the streets and he almost didn't care now that he was there with his father, or if his father had accepted him or not. He just wanted to be left alone to sleep until he could go back to school.

Snape woke him several times and Harry didn't know if he'd been sleeping for minutes or days whenever Snape forced him to wake up and choke down a potion or disturbed him to rub lotion on his chapped hands or face. He supposed it had been at least a day because he'd seen three different meals on trays next to his bed, though he'd been too tired to eat any of them.

"What're you doing?" Harry mumbled, eyes closed as he was roused from sleep again, feeling irritated.

"Putting lotion on your hands and wondering what has happened to your body to bring it to such a state."

Harry noted that the man sounded irritated. He hated that he had proved that he was his son, but there was no love in his father's voice for him. Harry wished just once that he knew what it was like to feel loved. He supposed the closest he'd come to that was his friends, or maybe even the kindness with which August had spoken to him and been honest with him.

"It was cold out," Harry mumbled, eyes still closed. He didn't want to look at his father even though the man was essentially sitting on the side of the bed holding his hand as he put lotion on it. That part felt kind of good Harry thought.

"It was 15 degrees when we met in the street."

"See- cold." Harry heard a sigh and felt like he should just keep quiet if he was going to make Snape angry again. The anger Harry'd felt in the street that had gripped him and made him feel so bold had gone completely and he was focused now on not being hurt any more than he already was.

"Where was your family? Why were you alone in the cold?"

Harry pulled his hand away from his father and curled in on himself, not wanting to talk anymore.

"Tired," Harry said into his pillow. He supposed he'd fallen asleep because Snape didn't bother him any more then and the next time he woke it was because there was warm broth and a roll with milk sitting next to him and Snape was forcing him to sit up. Somehow Harry hurt more now than he had sleeping in the alley on the hard stone.

"Hurts to sit," Harry croaked, throat dry.

"I don't doubt it," Snape said. Harry chanced a look up at him as he struggled to sit and noticed the man looked uncomfortable. He doesn't want me here Harry thought, that's why he's uncomfortable. I'm a dirty vagrant in his nice clean guest bed.

Snape placed the tray on Harry's lap once he was sitting.

"You don't have to feed me sir," Harry said, staring down at the food. "I can wait until Hogwarts."

"School won't start for another two weeks. I doubt you can go without food for that long."

"Done it before," Harry muttered ignoring Snape's look of dismay and taking up the spoon to savor the warm chicken broth. The man had just indicated, or at least Harry thought he had, that he was staying there until the start of the new term which was a week into January. He was surprised he wasn't going to be shipped back to Hogwarts immediately. Harry was pretty sure that while he had been sleeping that Calen had been trying to convince his father to get rid of him so he didn't ruin their holiday or so that Calen could keep Snape all to himself.

"You've gone two weeks without food before?"

Harry ignored him and set his spoon down on the tray in favor of drinking the broth. He really was very hungry and wished there was something more substantial in front of him than broth and a roll.

"How long were you on the street before we encountered each other?"

Harry greedily drank the last of the broth and then felt like he was ok telling Snape the answer to his last question. "Since the train." He moved for the roll, wishing his body didn't hurt so much. Why the hell did it hurt so much? Maybe it had been so cold and he'd been so numb on the street that he hadn't noticed as much.

"Why?"

Harry stuffed the whole roll into his mouth to keep it occupied so he didn't have to answer. He could tell from the way the man before him tensed that he was irritated, maybe even angry, but what else could Harry do? He was lucky enough to be there in a warm bed and getting fed, but he didn't think the man cared anything for his actual well-being aside from to keep him alive long enough to get him back to the school.

Undeterred, though he was gritting his teeth (Harry was sure of it), Snape continued on in his line of questioning. "You knew the blood spell. It is not a spell taught at Hogwarts. How?"

"Professor August told me." Harry wished August were there now. He was much easier to talk to than Snape. Harry had no idea that Snape thought Harry was the difficult one to talk to. He wasn't direct like Calen unless he was angry, something Snape had only seen twice now from the usually shy and withdrawn child, both times involving himself.

"You don't have any classes with August Price."

Harry took a drink of milk and frowned. "Price? I thought his last name was August."

"That's his first name. He doesn't like to go by Price because he thinks it's too proper."

"Huh."

"You did not answer my question."

Harry scrunched up his nose. He hadn't answered a lot of questions.

"I talk to him sometimes."

"Because?"

"Because he's nice to me."

"And he just gave you this spell?"

Harry moved his nose again while he thought about it. It was a bad habit he supposed he'd picked up from Ron in the last few months. "I asked him for it."

When it was clear to Harry that Snape was quietly and patiently (as patient as was possible because he still looked to be on the edge of irritation) waiting for him to give more information, Harry finished, "He told it to me on condition he didn't read in the paper a headline about a four foot unknown assailant tackling you for your blood."

Severus crossed his arms. "You spoke about your suspicions of your parentage to August but not to me?"

Harry turned away then. He was done talking, and he saw the anger flash across Snape's face. He stood up and took Harry's tray and left the room. Harry couldn't go back to sleep, so he sat there for ages trying to keep his mind from hoping too much that because he was here, it meant his father would be nice to him. He dare not hope for such things with only four days until Christmas.

* * *

August Price was surprised to receive an invitation to Prince Manor. It wasn't exactly a Christmas invitation seeing as how there were still four days to Christmas, but it might as well have been. He'd always wondered why Snape had never asked him over. They'd gotten on well enough in school and as colleagues. He supposed it was because tradition amongst the Prince and Price families died hard. At some point his father had chosen to break away from Snape's mother and other siblings, and changed his name from Prince to Price just removing the n. Ever since then the Prince's had all but removed them from the family tree. That was before he'd been born.

As he appeared on the long snowy drive leading up to Prince Manor, he took in the beauty of the large grounds. Minerva had described the place to him a few times but she hadn't done them justice. The house was large and sprawling and surrounding the lawns there were vast woods. He could also see a frozen lake. He wondered just how far the property went, and that his father had given up his inheritance to all of this when he'd left the family.

He expected he'd be waiting quite a while after knocking on the front door and wondered if Severus would realize he was outside at all if he was in some other part of the large house, but the door opened immediately to admit him in from the biting cold.

"Severus, good to see you. I got your owl, though it was a bit harried to make the journey to Hogwarts by floo."

"Yes, it was urgent."

"Is everything ok with Calen?"

Severus nodded, finding it interesting that August appeared concerned about Calen when he'd apparently been spending time with Harry.

"He is well. I wished to speak with you privately about another matter." Severus beckoned for him to follow and lead him down a long hall into a grand looking office three times the size of Headmaster Dumbledore's. It had tall windows that flooded the room with bright light reflecting off the snow outside, and tall shelves in between. When they were inside and the door was closed, August turned with a smile to Severus, but his smile faltered to see that his cousin did not look happy.

"I wished to speak to you about- my other son."

August raised his brows. "Oh?" His stomach twisted a little wondering if Harry was ok. Severus was a good man but August wasn't sure if he'd take Harry in, or continue to ignore him now that he knew, unless of course Severus was talking about some mysterious third son who had also just turned up. He hoped not. He also hoped that Harry wasn't somewhere with his relatives feeling downtrodden for the holidays though. If Severus knew, then it meant Harry had told and he wondered how he'd gotten the man to agree to share his blood.

"You know?" August chanced. If he wasn't talking about Harry, then he didn't want to give Harry's secret away.

"Yes, but what I found most surprising was that my own cousin knew and chose not to speak to me about it."

August sighed and went to one of the ornate looking chairs in front of the empty fire grate to sit down. "Severus, we haven't always been the most open with each other, you know that. And Harry had asked me to keep it a secret besides."

"But you knew that he was my son. That was information I would have appreciated knowing."

"I didn't know if he was your son or not. I knew he looked just like Calen, just like the rest of the staff, just like you did, and I knew he suspected he was your son once Calen had told him he had a father there at Hogwarts."

"How long has Harry been... confiding in you?"

"Last year when Calen punched Harry for asking if he'd told you about him, I got him to open up about it. Then last month Minerva caught Harry with a book on magical parentage and he told her he wanted to know about his parents. She told me and I got him into my office to tell him about James and Lily, only he wasn't interested in hearing about James, he was interested in asking about you."

"What did he want to know?" Severus seemed curious rather than angry and August took this as a good sign as Severus stopped pacing and leaned against his desk.

"Well he wanted to know if you were good at Quidditch like he was."

"What did you tell him?"

"Well I certainly didn't tell him the truth. You heard how he made the Gryffindor team didn't you?"

Severus nodded and August snorted softly then. "He's a risk taker that one. Can you imagine if I'd told him about all those crazy American maneuvers you used to pull off when playing against Gryffindor? I didn't want him to start trying anything like that. I told him you were a good flier but kept turning the Slytherin team down."

"He is... foolish," Severus said carefully then.

"He's a child, I don't know of any children who aren't a little foolish Severus."

"I don't know of any other children who went off to fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by themselves at eleven years old."

"He did that for you," August said, and watched the look of surprise cross his cousin's face and stay there.

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"It was the end of the year and Calen had just changed his name and was refusing to tell you about Harry, and he was facing going home to his relatives instead of going home with the man he thought was his father, so he did something drastic to prove himself to you. He thought that's how Calen got you to claim him, by proving himself good enough. Didn't you wonder why he was doing so well in Potions and growing his hair out?"

Severus started to pace again. "Calen told me something was wrong with the boy, that he was trying to imitate everything he did."

"That why you cut Harry's hair?"

Severus looked up and looked a little more than guilty and ashamed.

"No, Harry didn't tell me that," August said, "but I felt like I was the only one at Hogwarts looking out for him so I was keeping tabs on him. I knew he wouldn't cut his hair on his own."

Wiping sweaty hands on his black trousers, a habit Severus had had since he was a child, he said seriously, "What do you know of Harry's family?"

"I don't know anything about them. Why, is he ok? How did you find out about him?"

"I had taken Calen to shop in London and found him on the streets. He- was fairly angry at me and shouted a number of things at me before slicing his hand open and daring me to do the same."

"That doesn't sound like Harry," August said. "He's very shy and withdrawn."

"He is refusing to talk to me about why he was there or what happened to him. I had hoped you would shed some light on the situation. I had no idea that you had become his confidant. Perhaps you could... speak to him."

August scratched the back of his head. "Listen Severus, I have no problem talking to him. I care about what's going on in his life. But I want to know what's going through your mind right now. What are you going to do now that you know? I know you haven't gotten along well with him in the last year and a half."

Turning angrily suddenly, Severus snapped, "You think I wouldn't take care of my own son? Have I not proven that I would with Calen?!" He knew his colleagues didn't think very highly of him and had doubted his ability to take care of Calen even though they'd never said so, but he thought August knew him better than that.

"I know that the Prince family can be set in their ways, such as not inviting a Price over even if we're the last of the entire family."

"You're here aren't you?" Severus felt like spitting it out. Inside he was seething.

"I'm here," August agreed, "but how long will you wait to bring Harry into your life? We're in our thirties... I don't know that Harry will wait that long." He gave Severus a pointed look and Severus turned away.

When he didn't say anything else for three or four minutes, August stood up and asked, "Where's Harry?"

"I'll take you to him."

* * *

Harry was still awake, trying to occupy his mind by going over potions he had memorized to keep himself from getting bored when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in?" Harry said uncertainly, wondering who it could be. His father hadn't knocked yet upon entering and he didn't think Calen would come to see him. He had just started to wonder if perhaps Snape had a wife that lived there when the door opened to reveal Professor August. Harry grinned and tried to sit up straighter as the man came in and closed the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Came to see you."

"But how did you know?"

"Professor Snape- your father told me you were here."

Harry really couldn't explain the excitement he felt at seeing August. Maybe it was just because he was the only adult that had really been nice to him before, so Harry knew he wasn't going to get chewed out talking to him.

August looked around the small room and then grabbed the desk chair Snape often sat in to tend to Harry's injuries. He turned it around and sat on it backwards, resting his hands on the back.

"From what I hear, there was a pretty dramatic scene playing out on the streets of London a few days ago."

Harry looked sheepish then. "Yeah but you didn't hear it in the papers did you?"

"No. How are you doing?"

"Good," Harry said brightly, feeling more cheerful than he thought he would be this close to Christmas.

"You look like you got into a fight with a troll," August observed.

"I don't know, haven't seen myself in a mirror yet. But I probably look better than before. I think Professor Snape's been giving me healing potions. He put lotion on my hands too." Harry held up his hands to show that they weren't as cracked and bloody as they had been after so long out in the cold.

"Here." August conjured a handheld mirror and handed it to Harry. He watched as Harry winced at his appearance before turning his face left and right, apparently admiring his battle wounds as most boys his age often did.

"Can I keep this?" Harry asked, and August nodded with a smile.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

Smile fading a little, Harry set the mirror down on the side table. "Not really."

"Your dad wants to know why you weren't with your family like you were supposed to be."

"And you're going to tell him if I tell you?" He made it sound like it was a certainty.

"No Harry, I won't tell him."

Harry seemed to be judging the truth in that for a few moments, but then nodded as though saying he trusted him. He was still quiet though.

"Did something happen with your family?"

Harry almost hated that August's voice was so kind sounding right at this moment, because it made him want to tell him. He'd never told anyone before about the Dursleys, and as much as he'd spoken that year to his friends and to August, he still wasn't used to talking to people much or freely giving up answers about himself or his life. Frankly he was still a little mystified that he'd just shouted out that he was Snape's son to the man in the alley in London.

"Something," Harry said quietly. He started playing with his hands, though he did chance a glance up at August and was thankful he didn't look irritated or angry at Harry's lack of answers. Instead the man was waiting there patiently, not smiling but also not seeming so concerned that it made Harry feel terribly uncomfortable.

"Your family doesn't live in London do they. They live in... Surrey is it?"

Harry nodded.

"Did you make it home to Surrey when you got off the train, or did you stay in London?"

"Went to Surrey."

"How long were you there?"

"Just a few minutes."

"Where did you go after that?"

Harry shrugged. "Uncle Vernon drove me back to London."

"Why?"

Harry scrunched up his nose again and wiggled it side to side and then shrugged.

"Harry," August said, and he moved his chair a little closer to Harry's bed then. "It's ok to tell me, you know that right? I won't be mad at whatever you say, and I promise not to tell your dad. That's something that's up to you to tell him."

He looked up and to August's relief seemed bolstered by that.

"The day before I left school, I burned my hands in Potions, because I don't have any dragon hide gloves. I never got to go get clothes or school supplies before school started. So when I got home they asked me why my hands were burned, and I said I didn't have dragon hide gloves."

"Ok, that's a good start. What happened after that?"

"I uh- I uh-" to Harry's surprise his hands started to shake as he played with them and his voice didn't want to cooperate. In truth he didn't know what had happened because he'd blacked out. They might have tossed him off the roof and he wouldn't have known, but the way his body felt it was a good possibility they'd done something terrible like run him over or something.

"Take a breath, you're ok," August said, and his calm voice calmed Harry enough to keep going.

"I don't know what happened," Harry said. "I woke up in the back seat of the car and Uncle Vernon was driving me back to London without my wand or things. I said I couldn't get back on the train to school but he didn't say anything. He dumped me on the sidewalk in the middle of the night and left."

"Have they ever done something like that before?"

"Something," Harry said. He was holding his hands tight now to keep them from shaking. He wondered if August would notice if he put them under the covers and sat on them. They were a dead giveaway of how he was feeling and he didn't like that.

"Can you give me an example?"

"Well they never dumped me anywhere before."

"What did they do?"

He bit his lip. "Don't know."

"You pass out each time you're punished, or you don't want to say?"

"Sometimes pass out, but I don't want to say."

There was a knot growing in the pit of August's stomach that he didn't like. Harry was bruised and he doubted he'd incurred those injuries on the street. He was starting to get a clear picture that Harry had been abused and neglected.

"What about your cousin? Is he treated like you?"

Harry surprised him by laughing then. "No, definitely not. Dudley has everything."

"What do you mean?"

"Well he has clothes and toys and his own room, and TV's and video games, and he gets to go places and do things, and he gets to eat so much food!"

"Like deserts?"

"No like three meals a day and then deserts."

"And you don't get that?"

Harry paused. He'd just told him more than he'd meant to. "Not exactly."

"Do you get to eat at all?"

"If I did all my chores."

"Does your cousin have chores?"

"Just me."

August was quiet in thought for a long moment and it started to make Harry uncomfortable. What was he thinking about over there?

"You say they still have your wand and trunk?"

"Yeah. There's not really anything in my trunk, because I borrow everybody else's books and school supplies, but they have my wand."

"What's the address?"

Harry sat up and looked panicked then. "You're not going to go there and tell them I told are you?!"

Holding his hand up to calm the Gryffindor, August said, "No, I was thinking about getting your wand. Unless they snapped it in half it should still be ok. You'll need your wand for school and you really don't want to go get a new one."

"Why not?"

"Usually a wizard doesn't find a good second wand. The first one is meant to last."

Harry sighed.

"Would you be ok if I went and got your wand?"

"If you be careful. Uncle Vernon's big."

"Where do you think they'd have it?"

Harry shrugged. "They locked my trunk in the shed last summer, but it might be in my room."

"Where's that at?"

"Under the stairs."

August looked as if he wanted to say something at that but didn't and Harry was thankful. He stood up and told Harry he'd be back.

Out in the hall August was surprised that Severus was not eaves dropping. If it had been his son inside, if he'd had a son, he would have been listening. Instead he found him at the end of the hall leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Well?"

"I promised not to tell."

"Then why did I send you in there?"

August sighed. "He's going to have to trust you before he tells you. I'm going to go see if I can't retrieve his wand. I can tell you he hasn't had a pleasant life, and that he never got to go get new school supplies or clothes before school started, so he's been borrowing other people's books and supplies all year. I'd also treat his hands for burns."

"I saw the burns and applied burn salve. His relatives burned him?"

"No, he did it in Potions on the last day of school and didn't want you to know. He doesn't have any dragon hide gloves."

August began down the long winding stairwell and Severus followed. At the door August said, "I'll be back when I have his wand. I'm also going to buy him some school supplies for Christmas." He was going to leave with that but saw the lost look on his cousin's face. "Don't force it Sev. I don't think he's had a lot of opportunity for conversation in the past and I think I'm the first one he's told about his life. Why don't you take him and Calen and do something fun with them? He's a good boy Severus, he just needs some kindness."

Severus nodded but August wasn't sure he understood. With a last look at the Potion's Master, he left, on a mission to retrieve Harry's wand, anger and hurt filling him on Harry's behalf from the inside out.

Severus wished August's suggestion of just taking the boys to do something together was as easy as it sounded. Calen didn't like Harry though, and it had become obvious from Harry's tirade in London that he didn't like Calen. Thanks to August the picture was starting to become a little clearer as to why, but there were still some gaps that needed filling in.

He would probably never admit it to anyone, but Severus had grown quite attached to Calen since he'd taken custody of him. It had been less than a year but he already felt protective over Calen. It was a feeling he was now struggling with, knowing that Calen knew it was a possibility that Harry was also his son and hadn't told, and had possibly even dissuaded Harry from coming to him with his suspicions. Whatever had happened to Harry, it might have been prevented if only Severus had known...

On the one hand he had a son he felt close to, and loved very much, and had worked to give a sense of security to, and on the other he had a son very much in need that he felt like he needed to help, but did not feel close to. He knew it was wrong to say he didn't feel love for Potter- for Harry, but he had spent the last year and half despising him, not knowing he was his son. It had only been three days since he'd brought him home from London and began tending his injuries. That was not enough time to gain feelings of love, even if he was as much his child as Calen was. He wasn't stupid though and knew he'd cause more damage to Harry if he let on about any of his feelings. The fact was, that Harry's arrival into his life had just come at a bad time. Christmas was in just a few days, and he'd already purchased 20 Galleons worth of books, games, clothing, and other gifts for Calen. It would be awkward if he purchased a bunch of things for Harry, especially since he didn't know about any of the boy's likes or dislikes. He knew Calen would definitely be upset by it if he did. At the same time it wouldn't do Harry any good to watch his brother opening up present after present on Christmas morning and receive nothing, or very little himself. Severus cursed under his breath. This was not the Christmas he had envisioned for himself and Calen. This was not the Christmas Harry had envisioned either though, he reminded himself. The boy had probably not expected to end up battered and living on the streets of London in the bitter cold. Or maybe he had, after his father had seen to it that he be sent away from Hogwarts for the holiday. He cursed at himself again.

After his cousin had left, Severus made his way through the house looking for Calen. They needed to have a talk. He'd already talked to him last year about hitting other students, but at that point Calen had only said that Harry had said something offensive to him. Severus hadn't questioned it at the time having found the boy offensive often enough himself.

"Calen." He spotted the boy tossing a Muggle ball into the air and catching it in the children's den... the room that had been dedicated to children's books and board games since the Manor had been built two hundred years ago.

He caught the ball and looked over from where he was sitting. This room like Severus' office had tall windows overlooking the snowy grounds and was letting far more light in than Severus liked to see.

"I think we need to have a talk."

Calen didn't say anything but he did sit up straight. Severus walked over and took the chair across from him.

"I want to know the truth. We've spoken about this before. I expect you to be truthful with me, and I have come to find that you have not been."

"Whatever Harry said, it's a lie!"

"Harry hasn't said anything to me. He's refusing to tell me anything that's happened. August however has told me quite a bit."

"August?"

"Professor August, also my cousin."

"Oh."

"Last year you told me you hit Harry because he had said something offensive to you. What did he say?"

Calen turned the small ball over in his hands several times, looking at it. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember, or you don't want me to know that you knew it was a possibility that he was also my son?"

Calen's eyes shot up. "Why are you asking me if you already know all the answers?" he challenged angrily.

"Because I would rather give you the chance to be truthful with me than hear the truth secondhand. Why did you lie to me the first time?"

"I thought he was nutters ok?"

"Was that the first time he'd mentioned it to you?"

Calen hesitated to answer and Severus took that as a no. "Start at the beginning. You have a chance to tell the truth now."

Calen let out an irritated sigh and sat back in the chair, slouching down.

"We went to the same school for a couple years, but everyone knew not to play with him because his cousin would beat them up if they did. So he'd just stand around and stare at people on the playground, and he was always staring at me and my friends."

"So you never spoke to him before Hogwarts?"

"No, nobody did. Then mom died and I moved away because they sent me to the orphanage in Bristol."

"What about when you got to Hogwarts?"

"Draco Malfoy got mad at him before we got into the Great Hall for the sorting. I don't know why, I wasn't paying attention. I guess he didn't want to be friends with Draco or something. Then Draco started saying he'd got the wrong Potter, that I was Potter and he and I were brothers. Then Harry came to the back of the line to stand next to me and said we looked alike and I told him to leave me alone."

"Go on."

"Well he didn't leave me alone. He tried to stand next to me in Herbology and said we looked alike again and we could be brothers. I told him we weren't, that I only had one family member and that was you. Then we didn't talk again all year until after I'd talked to you. He asked about my new name and asked if I'd told you about him and I hit him, ok?"

"No, it's not ok. Calen, I can't pretend to understand what you were thinking or going through. You will have to tell me. Now, I already spoke to you last year about violence, so there is no need to speak about that again, but let me make myself clear. I will not tolerate lying again."

Calen nodded, and Severus hoped he understood. He didn't want to punish him. That would only work against the relationship he was trying to build with him.

"We need to talk about Harry."

"Great," Calen muttered.

"I know you're not happy about him being here, but he won't be going back to his relatives."

"Why not?"

Severus would have thought with Calen's grades that he was smart enough to figure out the answer. He was sure he was just being difficult at this point.

"His family is not fit to keep him after sending him out onto the streets. Given your dislike of orphanages, I would think you wouldn't want to sentence him to that, especially seeing that he's your brother."

"He's not my brother," Calen said sullenly.

"He's your half-brother," Severus said, "and since he will be staying here, I expect the two of you to be civil to each other at the very least."

"I'm not hanging out with him. He's weird."

"I didn't say you had to, but I don't want the two of you fighting either, am I understood?"

"Yes." It was a sullen reply.

"He has not grown up with a parent as you have. His mother died when he was a baby, and you already know that at the very least his cousin prevented him from making friends in school. You have had it considerably better than he has. It would be my hope that you would try to understand him."

"Up until three days ago you hated him too," Calen said with disgust. "Now you're just flipping around and going all ‘lovey' on him?"

"When you came to me, did I not take the appropriate actions in acting in a fatherly manner towards you? I do not like to hold double standards and I thought you would have that same expectation of yourself. I would have hurt you if I had denied you the love and attention you deserve, would I not have?"

"Whatever." Calen rolled his eyes and was surprised when his father suddenly sat forward and put a hand on his knee, drawing his eyes to him again.

"You are entitled to your feelings, but I'm finding myself disappointed that you would rather I send him away, when I took you in and gave you so much. You don't have to like him but I stand by what I said earlier. You will be civil." With that Severus rose and left the room, feeling disappointed in the son that he already had a relationship with and already cared for. He was making it harder than it had to be, especially since Severus himself was struggling to suppress his negative feelings for Harry since the dramatic news he'd received in the alley.

Severus felt exhausted just thinking about Calen's attitude and the conversation he'd had with August earlier that day, but knew he still needed to go upstairs to check on Harry. The boy's injuries were healing after the many potions and salves and he was probably well enough to get out of bed and walk around now, but Severus hadn't yet invited him to do so. Potter in his house... Harry, in his house he reminded himself. He sighed and rubbed his forehead hard. If the child was going to stay there he'd need to start looking past some things he'd previously believed about him.

For instance, he could no longer just write the child off as ‘strange' as Calen had done. He knew better now. The boy didn't have the social skills Calen had because he'd been intentionally isolated in school before Hogwarts. And yet, Severus pondered, he now had more friends that Calen, who didn't like to admit that he had trouble making friends in Ravenclaw. Severus wondered why that was as he made his way to the smaller kitchen to make supper.

That night after both of the boys were in bed, August turned up at the front door again with three large boxes. Severus motioned him in out of the blizzard.

"You can use the floo now," Severus said, taking one of the boxes from him.

"Thank you," August said, coming in and shaking the snow from his hair.

"The boys asleep?" he asked and Severus nodded. It was almost midnight.

"I got Harry's wand." He pulled a wand from the inside of his coat pocket and handed it to Severus. "I had to wait until the Muggles went out for dinner and then I snuck in and searched the house. It was in the cupboard under the stairs, but I couldn't find Harry's trunk anywhere."

"What's all this?" Severus asked.

"These two boxes are school supplies, including new school robes," he motioned to the larger of the three boxes before waving his wand at them. Bright red wrapping paper appeared around them and taped itself to the boxes. "Everything on the supply list including dragon hide gloves is in there. This box has a few books and two sets of clothing. I figured he'd need something to wear since his trunk is gone, but I didn't want to buy too much in case you wanted to get him clothes for Christmas. The clothes I got aren't for Christmas," he clarified. He'd seen Harry's ratty old clothes and didn't want him to feel like an outsider there in Prince Manor when he knew Calen was wearing the finest teen clothes Muggles and Wizards could offer.

"I'm sure he will appreciate it," Severus said. He paused and then after long moments in thought said, "I'm sure he would also appreciate seeing you on Christmas morning."

"Are you inviting me to Christmas?"

"I am."

"Well, I'll be there then. I'd better be getting back to the castle though. I've got to pack a few things so I can make it back to my house at some point before the holiday is over."

He turned but Severus stopped him. "I- would appreciate your help with something."

"Name it," August said with a smile, knowing it probably had something to do with Harry.

"I am uncertain of what to get Harry for Christmas... aside from clothes."

August put his hands on his hips. "He likes Quidditch and he doesn't have a broom yet or any of his own gear like flying gloves. He seemed interested in American maneuvers too when he saw the posters in my office... maybe a book with some less challenging moves? And I know he likes Potions. You might spend some time asking him about his interests though. You've still got three days until Christmas."

He smiled at his cousin and turned to leave again, but then turned back with a more serious look on his face. "Severus, I promised not to tell you this, but- well it might help you get closer to him."

"What is it?"

"Well I don't think he's been given the opportunity to eat well. I'm certain his cousin eats like a horse, he's quite pudgy. Maybe you could give Harry some candy for Christmas as well?"

Severus sighed. Just what he needed... a hyper active twelve year old on Christmas morning... two in fact, he told himself, because he'd already filled a fairly large stocking full to the brim with sweets for Calen and it was already hanging above the mantelpiece in the larger of the three family rooms.

"Thank you," he said and August nodded and hurried back out the door and into the cold night.

That night Severus went to bed faced with trying to get to know his other son in the morning, if the boy saw fit to talk to him at all.

* * *

Harry reached up to his eyes and tried to rub the crust from them because someone was trying to rouse him. "Huh?"

"It's time to get up." Someone shook his shoulder again and Harry finally managed to get his eyes open, though his limbs felt heavy and he didn't feel like waking up just yet. Curtains in the room drawn for the first time since he'd been there, Harry blinked in the bright light and saw that it was snowing outside, and then his father came in to view.

"Here. August dropped these off for you last night. There's another pair of clothes on the desk along with your wand."

Sitting up and feeling better than he had in days, Harry looked down to the jeans and new shirt his father had just handed him. The shirt was soft and red and had a dark stripe across each shoulder of the long sleeves.

"Sir?"

His father turned from where he was opening the curtains on the second window, flooding the room with even more light. When he turned Harry asked, "Professor August bought these for me?"

"Yes. You seem surprised."

Harry looked down to the shirt and rubbed his thumb over the soft fabric again.

"I never had new clothes before," he said, and then without thought to moving gingerly because of his still bruised body, he took off the pajama shirt and pulled the long sleeve red shirt on over his head, looking down at his new garb in awe.

"You've never had new clothing?" Severus was trying desperately hard not to sound irritated. He supposed that after so many years of bitterness, it was just in his nature to sound that way, and even with Calen he had to suppress it.

"No," Harry said. He stood up and worked to get the new jeans on and was happy that they fit him perfectly. There were no holes in them and they weren't baggy at all. He searched for his socks and found them on the floor, sad that he hadn't gotten a new pair of them as well, and pulled them on, trying not to feel too embarrassed at that moment that both big toes stuck through the holes. He didn't know that his father was watching him with interest until he'd finished and stood up, avoiding putting all his weight on his left leg which still ached.

When Harry finally did look up, Severus noted that his eyes were bright and he looked eager.

"If you are feeling well enough, I thought you might like to come downstairs to have breakfast with us this morning."

Harry bit his lip to avoid asking silly questions like if he would be allowed to eat or not. He had a feeling this would irritate his father and the day had already gotten off to a good start with new clothes so he didn't want to ruin it.

"Yes sir," Harry said, and he followed him out of the room and into a long narrow hallway with many doors. At the end they went down a spiraling staircase and Harry was surprised to find that he'd actually been up on the third floor of the house. As they got further down the stairs, the stairs became wider until they finally opened up to a large entryway, decorated with ornate rugs and paintings, and even had a chandelier, the only one Harry had ever seen. If only he could live here he thought. He felt very rich indeed to just be allowed to stay there for the rest of the holiday.

They walked down a wide hallway towards another part of the house. This hallway had beautiful hardwood floor that was shiny with some sort of varnish, and many large rooms off of it, most with no door but a large square archway with white decorative molding. When Harry had imagined Calen getting to live with their father over the summer, he never imagined it had been like this.

Finally they came to a grand dining room at the end of the hall and Harry tried not to draw any attention from Calen who was sitting at the end of the long dining room table. Taking his cue from Snape, he followed his father down the table to sit next to Calen who was reading a Potion's book Harry hadn't seen yet and eating bacon and eggs off of what seemed to Harry like fine china.

"We have the luxury of a house elf this morning," Severus said. "She comes four days a week when we're here. She will serve whatever you want for breakfast." Harry watched as Severus unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap, and as soon as he picked up his fork, food appeared on his plate. Had his father already told the house elf what he wanted to eat before he'd gone up to get Harry? Calen was watching him now and Harry didn't want to make a fool out of himself by asking how to get food to appear on his plate.

When Harry just sat there though with no food, Calen snorted. "Just think what you want," he said snidely to a sharp look from Snape, and Calen shook his head as if disgusted and went back to his book. Harry felt like he didn't want to put the house elf to too much trouble, so he thought quietly, ‘Can I please have some hot chocolate?' Suddenly hot coco appeared in the empty mug next to his plate, and he was pleased to find that it had whipped cream and colored sprinkles on top. He would have given anything for this on the streets of London, and tried to ignore his father, who was watching him carefully as he picked up the mug and took a drink. His hands still weren't completely healed yet, so he was careful not to touch the hot mug anywhere but the handle as he set it back on the table. His stomach rumbled then and before he knew he was even thinking of pancakes and eggs, they had appeared on his plate with syrup, butter, powdered sugar and a bowl of fruit. That he hadn't thought of, but he felt sure the elf had given it to him so he'd have something nutritious on top of the chocolate chips that were melting all over his pancakes.

Calen looked over to Harry's plate and then to his father to see if he'd scold Harry for asking for chocolate and sugar for breakfast, but his father said nothing and he went back to his book. If it had been him, he would have been scolded, Calen thought.

Harry ate the best breakfast he'd ever had that morning, even better than at Hogwarts, and was happy to have a full stomach for the first time since he'd gotten off the train for the break.

"Perhaps Calen can show you around the manor," Severus said after sipping his coffee when Harry was halfway through his breakfast.

"I'm busy today," Calen said, and he took his book and rose from the table, seeming irritated as he moved off in a hurry. Harry watched him go and felt bad, like he was still unwanted but also like he was causing trouble.

"I'm sorry," he said, setting his fork down, but Snape- his father raised his hand and waved the apology away.

"Do not be. He is upset, but will be fine."

With Calen gone breakfast felt a little less awkward but not much as he and his father ate in silence. As soon as Harry was done, his plate disappeared and he wondered if he'd be sent back to the guest room since Calen didn't want to show him around. He was surprised when his father rose however and beckoned him to follow.

"This is the small dining room," he said, "the large one is through that door, but it has not been used since my grandparents lived here."

"There's a bigger one?" The one they'd eaten in was large enough to seat fifteen or more, but this wouldn't be the first time Harry would be surprised on their tour by the size of things. As it turned out there was a large and a small kitchen, three family rooms one of which was decorated with a large Christmas tree and seemed the most lived in, his father's study, a small library, a room just for children, and a sunroom that followed the back of the house on one side and was warm and full of plants he actually knew the names of from his Potion's texts.

"There are two upper wings," Severus told him as they made their way back to Harry's room. "Both contain living quarters. I was thinking that we could move you to a bigger room in the East Wing."

"The East Wing sir?"

"You have been staying in the West Wing. It was- the closest to the entryway," he said, feeling a little ashamed now that he'd put Harry in the West Wing where the rooms were smaller and where he was far away from his and Calen's rooms. In the past the West Wing had been used to house less prestigious guests of the Prince family, and more distant relatives who had come to stay, while the East Wing had been reserved for close family and those who lived in the manor.

"A- a bigger room?" Harry was biting his lip and seemed nervous.

"Yes," Severus said, "you will be closer to myself and Calen."

Harry looked down at the hall floor as they walked and didn't say anything else until they got back to the room he'd been staying in.

Severus motioned for Harry to pick up his second pair of new clothes, but when Harry did so he asked, "Sir, why are you moving me?"

"I thought you would like a bigger room."

"But- but I'm only-" he looked away without finishing.

"You're only what Po- Harry?" He kept the sigh inside but it was still there.

"But you're just sending me back to Hogwarts aren't you? I'm only here until you can take me back?"

Damn. So maybe he hadn't made himself as clear as he should have. He'd been caught up talking to August and telling him all about how responsible he was and how he would take care of his son, but he'd forgotten to tell Harry and now the boy didn't think he was staying. What had those Muggles done to him anyway to make him just assume he would be shipped back off to the school?

"I thought you would like a bigger room of your own," Severus said, feeling guilty, "so that you will have plenty of room for your things while you live here."

Harry bit his lip again as if he was still unsure. He was really going to make him spell it out for him, wasn't he, Severus thought, irritated.

"You will be staying with us now." He said it with finality and Harry stopped biting his lip.

"I get to stay with you?"

"If that is what you wish. I assume you do not want to go back to your aunt and uncle."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, and Severus noticed the fear flash through his eyes briefly as he looked up.

"Let us go find a suitable room then."

Harry followed him out. As it turned out the upstairs was a maze of hallways and only one connected the East and West Wings. His father pointed out that he could tell which hallway it was because it was the only one with no doors leading off of it.

"This is Calen's room," Severus said, pointing out a wooden door with a blue wooden C on the outside. It was ajar but as soon as they had passed it Harry heard it click shut.

"This is my room. If you need me at night, you may come and knock on the door. The rest of these rooms are empty and you may choose the one you like best."

Harry opened a few doors, feeling awkward about choosing a room too close to his father or brother, and decided to go all the way to the end of the hall and open the door that was there. Inside was a room a little smaller than the others, but it was on the corner of the house and had windows on two sides instead of one and Harry could see the snowy forest on the front and side of the grounds, and the snowy mountains in the distance. There was a small bathroom, a desk and wardrobe, and a four poster bed with no hangings.

Harry turned to find his father in the doorway watching him. "Can- I have this one?"

He nodded. "I will send the house elf up after lunch to help you clean and decorate it."

"Thank you."

"You are allowed to go wherever you wish in the house, except Calen's room unless you are invited. You may also go out on the grounds but I would appreciate it if you asked me first as it's easy to get lost and it is cold out."

"Yes sir," Harry said.

Feeling awkward and not knowing what he should say to this second son he now had, Severus backed out of the room and shut the door behind him. In the hall he took a few steps and then stopped. I have two sons. He said it just under his breath as if just to confirm it to himself. Two sons. And then he went to Calen's room to let him know he'd be out of the manor for a few hours and to leave Harry alone and that the house elf would be there if they needed anything. Before he left he told Harry most of the same. He had two sons who were expecting Christmas, and even if he still didn't feel for Harry what he felt for Calen, he was determined to give Harry a Christmas as well, and that meant going out to buy him things. As he apparated to London he hoped he could come up with appropriate gifts for him as he tried to squash the voice in the back of his head shouting that Calen would be angry.

Harry was used to being alone, so when his father told him he'd be going out for a few hours, it didn't faze him too much. He only hoped Calen wouldn't try to pin him against a wall and hurt him again. He was still sore and feeling emotionally exhausted and wasn't ready to take on Calen just yet. Well, maybe not at all he thought. He looked around the room the hired house elf, Tink, had just helped him clean up and decorate. His father had given him a pretty nice room with a very soft bed, but Harry knew better than to hope for anything else. Calen had been there much longer and already had their father's love. I'll probably just stay up here on Christmas morning, he thought to himself as he sat on the low windowsill with one leg hanging down, looking at the mountains as the sun went down behind them. No way to be disappointed when I don't get any gifts then, and besides that I have nothing to give to Calen or my father. Well that's not true, Harry thought, he could leave, he was sure that would make Calen happy, but he really didn't want to, not after all that had happened.

Feeling bored and thinking his father was probably still out, Harry left his new room to go back and investigate the children's den and give it a closer look. It looked like it had some interesting things in there, and his room looked pretty sparse. He knew he was too old to play with toys, but maybe he could still take one for his room, just to decorate he told himself. He was denying the truth though. He really wanted a toy to play with and to pretend on Christmas morning that someone had given him something because he was loved and wanted.

Harry peered around corners as he made his way back to the ground floor and was relieved to make it to his destination without running into Calen. Eyes quickly scanning the tall shelves and all of the children's books, both Muggle and magic, he let his mouth open a little in awe. He'd always loved to read but had never had a chance unless at school. Now he had access to more books than he ever thought he'd get through. He climbed up a small ladder and began browsing the books and pulling down picture books and novels he wanted to take back to his room to look at.

"Really Potter? Picture books?"

Harry turned to spy Calen standing in the doorway and turned away, pretending to go back to browsing the shelves.

"At least I read," Harry muttered, but if Calen heard it he didn't respond to it.

"Think because you got your own room you've got the run of the house now?"

Harry climbed down the ladder with another armful of books and set them on his neat pile on one of the end tables.

"I didn't see a sign that said ‘Calen only'."

Calen shook his head. "No, you just came here to take everything that's mine."

"I haven't taken anything from you," Harry said. He wanted to take the books and go back to his room to avoid a conflict because he wanted to avoid injury, but also because he was pretty sure his father would be displeased to come home and find them fighting. He also didn't want Calen to think he'd won and chased him out though.

Calen snorted. "Don't think so?"

"No," Harry said. He turned and spied a stack of board games, some of which he and Ron played together in the common room and said, "Want to play a board game?"

"Whatever Potter." Calen plopped down in a chair that looked to Harry like it was Calen's and Calen's alone. He wasn't leaving. With a sigh Harry took the armful of books and left the den. He was a little angry though. He shouldn't have to go back to his room just because Calen was downstairs. So instead of going back upstairs he crossed the large hallway and went into the living room with the decorated tree and sat down on the couch. He was halfway through chapter one of a book about a Muggle boy who was surviving in the wild with only an axe when Calen came in and stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"See all those gifts," Calen asked smugly.

Harry looked up from his book and then over to the tree. Yeah, he'd seen. There were probably thirty of them down there, including two very large boxes wrapped in bright red paper with big green bows on them.

"Yeah yeah," Harry said, "there're all yours, I know, and no, I don't expect to get anything, and yes, I know you think you're something special just because you got here first, and no," Harry said with finality, looking up at his brother, "I don't ever expect to be treated as well as you. So you can stop now. You've made your point. You're the king and I'm the peasant. Congratulations King Calen." Harry snapped his book closed and left through the other entrance to the room, the one that lead to a lesser living room. He was going to go back to his room, but the moment he'd stepped into the smaller room he found himself walking right into his father's chest. He stumbled back a step and looked up into his father's dark eyes which seemed to be just as surprised as his own. He swallowed hard. Was he going to get it now because his father had just heard him putting Calen down?

"S-sorry," Harry said, eyes immediately going to the floor where they were supposed to be. The only time he usually dared to look into his father's eyes was at school when he was angry because he didn't think teachers could do anything really bad to him, but after the man had cut his hair he knew that was different, and besides, they weren't at the school now and Harry really didn't want to spend Christmas back out on the street.

"For?"

Harry shook his head. "Just- sorry." He made to move around him quickly and out the door to the hall and was surprised to get out without punishment. He was sure his father had head everything he'd said, and all Calen had asked was if he'd seen the presents under the tree. Great job Harry, he thought to himself as he raced back up to his room. He should have just stayed there in the first place, he thought. He had no idea that at that moment his father was downstairs lecturing his brother for not doing the one thing he'd asked of him while he was away.

The next morning at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, Harry was very quiet, and otherwise spent the day in his room and avoiding all contact with Calen and their father. His plan to stay under the radar and out of sight had worked so well in fact that he planned on doing it again the next day, which was Christmas. He didn't know that his father had made other plans, and Harry was already asleep that night before his father came in to tell him that he was getting presents the next morning, and that August would be coming over as well, or at least Severus thought he was asleep. Harry opened his eyes in the dark room just as his father sighed and closed his bedroom door.

That's all I am to them, Harry thought, just a sigh. I'm no better here than I was in the cupboard under the stairs.

* * *

Harry was surprised when his father shook him awake in the darkness the next morning. "Whassit?" Harry asked blearily. For a moment he was confused because he was in a four-poster with red hangings and thought he was back in Gryffindor tower.

"Wake up Harry. August will be here soon."

Rubbing his eyes Harry got out of bed in a hurry. He still didn't know what was going on, but if his father was getting him up early it must have been important.

"Put this on." His father handed him a robe in the darkness and Harry didn't question that it was his size or if Calen would be mad that he was wearing it and just put it on.

"August is coming?" Harry asked as he noticed a pair of slippers next to his feet and put them on as well.

"Yes in about an hour. It's tradition on Christmas to prepare breakfast as a family and I thought we'd start early."

He followed his father out of the room and found Calen in the hall, looking equally as sleepy and wondered that Calen also had on a robe and slippers and wondered if he was wearing one of his brother's spare robes. He never once stopped to think that it was brand new and it was all his.

Downstairs and into the smaller kitchen they followed their father, who waved up the lights and began pulling out pots and pans, bowls and utensils.

"Do either of you know how to make biscuits?"

Calen stepped forward with a smug though tired look on his face and was directed to start making biscuits from scratch, though there was also an old recipe card in hopelessly loopy cursive for Calen to look at.

"What can you make Harry?"

Harry looked up. "Er..." When Calen looked up from the eggs he was cracking only to smirk, Harry grew irritated and said, "Bacon, eggs, biscuits, quiche, potatoes, bangers, black and white pudding, fruit pudding, soda bread, oat cakes..." he could have gone on, but chose to stop. The Dursleys didn't like to cook for themselves and had even gone as far as enrolling Harry in several cooking courses throughout the years (the only favor they'd ever done him) to ensure they'd eat well.

Severus nodded and Harry took it as a sign of approval since Calen's smirk turned to a sneer and he went back to making his biscuits. "How about the soda bread and fruit pudding then?"

Harry went to the opposite side of the island as Calen and began working. He felt like they were in Potions competing again, only hopefully this time his father wasn't going to stare down his nose at him with a scowl.

As they worked, light began to shine in through the windows and the kitchen started to smell nice. Maybe they'd let him eat some of what he was cooking. Wouldn't that be nice? A Christmas where he got to eat with everyone else? At six ten they heard August calling to them from the hall and Severus called back to him to come into the kitchen. A moment later August appeared looking cheerful and wearing a warm looking green pullover.

"Morning Severus," August greeted with a smile.

"Good morning."

"Cooking breakfast as a family, I thought the Prince's didn't do that."

"No but the Snape's do," Severus said and August smiled.

"As to the Prices." He came to stand next to Harry and tossled his messy hair. "And how are you boys this morning? Looking forward to opening presents?"

"Yes," Calen said and Harry gave a weak smile. His mood was starting to turn sour and he wished it wouldn't, especially not now that August was there and considering that he also was here rather than out on the street in the cold.

Finally at six thirty and with August's help to finish the eggs and orange glazed cinnamon rolls, breakfast was ready and on the table and they all sat down to eat, August talking to Severus about an incident at Hogwarts and a theft on Diagonalley, and trying to engage Calen in a conversation about Quidditch. Calen wasn't interested in talking though so August turned to Harry and said, "That's a nice new robe you have there Harry."

"Huh?" He looked down and looked at the somewhat dirty robe he was wearing. It was dark green plaid and very soft. "It's not mine," he said.

August raised his brows. "It's not?"

"Yes it is." Harry looked up at his father across the table. "Both he and Calen got a new robe and slippers for Christmas. That is a Prince tradition."

"Well they both look handsome," August said. Harry was glad he was there because he could feel the tension in the room ease a little whenever August spoke. August didn't seem to notice the tension at all, maybe that's why it worked.

After breakfast Harry was getting ready to clear away all the dishes when his father called for him to follow them into the family room and Harry set his plate down and followed. The tree was lit up and light was streaming in from the windows, and there was a warm fire in the grate. The presents under the tree also seemed to have doubled and Harry's eyes bugged out of his head. Even Dudley didn't get this many presents on Christmas! He couldn't believe Calen was getting all of this! This must have been where his father had been that day Harry had gotten his new room, out shopping to buy more for Calen.

"Sit by the tree and be sure to check labels so you only open your own," Severus said and it took Harry a moment to register that his father wasn't only talking to Calen. He wanted to ask, ‘there are presents for me too?' but didn't want to sound foolish so he sat and watched as Calen ripped into a present which turned out to be a new Potion's book. After Calen had opened three more, August told Harry to open one of the big red ones and Harry and Calen both looked up.

"Ok," Harry said. He stood and went to the larger of the two red boxes and saw for the first time that it had his name on it and also said, ‘From August.' Harry tore the paper off eagerly and was both surprised and touched to find brand new school supplies and books inside. He wouldn't have to borrow Ron's books anymore or scrounge for paper ink and quills.

"Wow," Harry said, and looked up at August. "Thank you!" He was so happy he thought he might cry.

"The other red one is from me as well."

Harry ripped into it and found new robes and the nicest dragon hide gloves he'd ever seen. Now he wouldn't have to be as careful handling his cauldron and could concentrate more on the potion itself.

"Thank you so much," Harry said. If Calen hadn't been there, he thought he might have gone and hugged August but didn't want to seem like a baby and so he didn't.

"Thank you for the books father," Calen said then and Severus nodded. "Calen, open the blue package, Harry, why don't you open some more of the red ones." Harry looked now and realized that all the blue and silver ones had Calen's name on them, and all of the Red and Gold ones had Harry's name, though there were some more gifts in randomly colored paper with his name as well.

Harry reached for a red gift and though it didn't say ‘from your father' or ‘from dad' he knew Snape's flowing script and opened the package to find new Quidditch gloves and a new pair of flying goggles. He couldn't help himself then and let out a little giggle, quickly covering his mouth. He hadn't meant it to be rude, he'd just been so happy that the giggle had escaped. So far his father had gotten him a new robe and slippers and new flying gear.

"Thank you," Harry said, voice quieter as he suddenly felt sheepish.

"You are welcome," Severus said, and then he took a sip of coffee, maybe to cover the fact that he too was smiling.

Harry and Calen ripped through present after present, and in the end, while Harry had less presents than Calen, Harry also knew that he had one from their father that was considerably more expensive, a new broom, the same model Calen had.

"That's a nice broom you've got yourself there Harry," August commented, and Harry grinned. Just wait until Ron saw it. A Nimbus 2001. There'd be no more fighting the old school brooms to go faster or turn sharper. Harry also had a pile of new clothing, hats, coats, and two new pairs of shoes, new books on flying, Potions, and Charms, snitch socks from Ron, a study planner from Hermione, and a hand drawn picture of him flying on a broom from Ginny. The twins had also given him some candy and Mrs. Weasley had given him a red sweater with a big H on it.

"You've forgotten your stockings," Severus said when the presents were all unwrapped and he'd vanished all the paper from the room.

Harry and Calen rose to retrieve the two full stockings from the fireplace. Calen dumped his out onto the floor to see it all more quickly, while Harry took his time to remove each item and savor the fact that he was getting something new from someone that cared about him. When they were done they basically had the same things in their stockings only different flavors of candy and different types of playing cards. Harry and Calen had both received some sort of Muggle card game that relied on different card packs to play, and had each received different packs. Harry took this as a less than subtle hint that they were meant to use the card game together, and looked at Calen who was determinedly not looking at him as he neatly packed up all of his presents into a big box.

Harry stood up and went to the couch his father was sitting on and said, "Thank you." He wanted to hug him as he'd wanted to hug August, but wasn't sure if it was acceptable or not.

"You are welcome."

Harry turned to August then and thanked him as well to a smile from August. Harry wanted to feel bad for Calen that August hadn't gotten him anything, or that he hadn't received gifts from his friends as Harry had, but Calen was sneering at Harry again when he turned to look at him and the notion faded.

August stayed for lunch, which he and Severus cooked while Harry and Calen used their new gifts, and left shortly after dinner. Apparently he lived in a town not terribly far away and wanted to get back to take some food to an elderly neighbor who was alone for Christmas.

That night as Harry lay in bed in his new room, surrounded by gifts that his friends and family had given him, he felt warm inside in a way he'd never felt before. It was like there was happiness swelling in his chest waiting to burst out and he didn't know how to contain it. He fell asleep with a grin and couldn't help but be in disbelief of his luck. Two weeks ago on the street, or three weeks ago at Hogwarts, he couldn't have imagined a Christmas like this, a Christmas in a home, with a father and August... Harry knew August wasn't his uncle, but he felt like he was, or a Godfather or something. Maybe he'd ask August later if he could call him uncle. Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face.

A few rooms down, Calen felt the opposite of Harry. He was angry and hurt and feeling quite lonely. He wanted nothing more than to seek his father out and get some comfort, but he didn't think that would happen with Harry there. That weird kid was ruining everything. Calen just didn't understand. He'd always been so popular in school before Hogwarts, he'd had friends, even in the orphanage he had a group that liked him. He was cool, he was intelligent, and he deserved to have friends. But Harry was just strange. He hadn't had any friends before Hogwarts and for their first year he hadn't had any friends either. But now he had seemed to have made quite a lot of friends, friends who had sent him lots of Christmas gifts and cards expressing their love and adoration for him. Even August had gotten him something but hadn't gotten Calen anything. What was he doing wrong? Why did everyone like Harry so much and not him?

As Calen lay awake well into the night, he was also forced to wonder how long it would be before their father decided that he liked Harry better than his other son, his cool son, the son that loved him most.

"You know he only bought you presents because he had to."

Harry turned to find Calen leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. It was the first time he'd come to see Harry in his room, though he was careful not to step over the threshold.

"Did you want to play a game?" Harry asked. He picked up the stack of cards he'd gotten in his stocking that sat beside his pile of new books on the desk.

"As if Potter."

"You don't have to call me that you know," Harry said. He knew he would agitate him by staying calm, and while he didn't want to agitate him, he also didn't want to get angry, that never turned out well (expect for that time in the alley in London he reminded himself).

"Call you what?"

"Potter. My name is Harry."

"But you're still a Potter. Notice that? When he found out I was his son we went to the Ministry that day to change my name."

"Was there a reason you came by?" Harry asked. He could feel his face heating up. He set the stack of cards back down and pulled over the Potion's text he'd been reading.

"No, no reason Potter. " With emphasis on his last name again, Calen smirked. "What happened to you out there in London anyway?"

Harry ignored him but Calen kept on. "I mean, really, where was your family, you know, your real family, the ones that cared about you?"

No answer.

"Noticed you didn't get any presents from them. Was it all a rouse so you could come here and get loaded up with gifts for Christmas from a rich family?"

No, it's all a rouse so I can take over the world, thought Harry snarkily and then wondering where that thought had come from. He stood up, grabbed his new black jacket and red gloves and moved past Calen. When he was down the hall, without turning his back he swished his wand and had the satisfaction of knowing the door had just closed and locked and probably hit his brother in the arse.

Harry made his way down through the house and to the front door, so mad that he forgot to tell his father he was going out.

It was cold out and the ground was covered in snow, but the chill didn't bother him like it did on the streets, because now he had warm clothes and shoes and hope filling him, even if he was mad at his brother. Why hadn't his father taken him to the Ministry yet? He said Harry would be staying there from now on, and he'd gotten Christmas presents and clothing and books, but that didn't mean he'd been fully accepted. Maybe his father didn't want him to have the last name of Snape.

Harry sighed as he headed in the direction of the frozen lake, but veered off half way there to investigate the edge of the forest. He liked being outdoors and had always wanted to explore the Forbidden Forest, but it was ominous and forbidden and there were too many rumors of child eating monsters. This looked like an ordinary enough forest though. Maybe he could just walk in a little ways and see what was in there. In any case, if he got eaten by a werewolf or something else, he didn't think his father would mind too much, since he was still just a Potter, and he knew for certain that Calen wouldn't care.

Without thought to where he was wandering, Harry made a few circles, though he could always still see the edge of the tree line where the white snow shone brightly, and in the distance he could see the house.

It was quiet and peaceful out here and he liked it. He liked the feeling of being judged and beholden to nobody, and felt his anger slowly ebb away, though was dismayed to find it replaced by doubt. Maybe this was all a dream and he was still unconscious somewhere at Privet Drive, or even worse, it wasn't a dream and he never really would find a place here with his father and brother. Yes, that would be worse, to be in the midst of them and never have a place amongst them.

"Harry."

Harry turned quickly to find his father behind him. He noted that while he was wearing a longsleeve shirt, he had no coat or gloves.

"Sir?"

"I remember asking you to let me know when you leave the house."

"I'm sorry sir," Harry said. He couldn't detect any anger in his father's voice, but typically doing something wrong meant an adult was going to thrash him, so he felt on edge.

"Calen said you left and I followed your tracks. I thought you might have been lost by the way you went in circles."

"Was just thinking," Harry said.

"About London?" his father hazarded, and Harry scrunched his nose up and looked at the ground, hands in his pockets. No, not about London.

They were quiet for a few moments and Harry registered that his father didn't seem irritated at his lack of a response this time. Finally he looked up and asked, "Do you want me?"

The man seemed taken aback. "Want you?"

Harry looked down again.

"As my son? I do."

This brought Harry's eyes up to his again. "Why haven't we gone to change my name then? When you found out about Calen, you went that day. It's been a couple of weeks now, and, and I thought-"

"Harry," he took a few steps forward. "You are my son and I do want you. I heard what you said to Calen a few days ago in the family room, and I want you to know that I do not think more or less of you than I do of him. You were injured and still recovering and I didn't think a journey into London would do you any good. I had intended to take you to the Ministry before our return to Hogwarts."

"Oh." He felt a little foolish now.

"Harry, I- I am still unaccustomed to being a parent. It is not an excuse, but as Calen has found out over the last few months, I am still adjusting to dealing with twelve year old boys."

Harry paused, thought of something to say, thought better of it, and then said it anyway. "Don't you deal with kids every day at school?"

"At Hogwarts I preform the role of teacher and disciplinarian. I am not asked to take the feelings of students into account when I say or do something."

Harry looked at his father's face then and for the first time felt like he was talking to a man, a real human being instead of an unapproachable, foreboding professor. He felt almost like he was talking to August. It was kind of nice.

"You're not so bad when you're not a disciplinarian," Harry said, being careful to enunciate the word so he didn't sound foolish by using it.

"No, I don't suppose so." Severus almost let a smile come to his lips but kept it at bay. Harry wasn't so bad away from school either.

"Lunch will be in an hour, but I have some time before I need to get it started. Would you like to keep walking?"

Harry thought about it and then nodded. "I haven't seen the grounds really yet."

"Then I will give you a tour. This is Dundee Wood. There are no magical creatures here, but there are wildcats and foxes, and a young wizard would be well advised to keep his wand on him while visiting."

Harry nodded and they continued on. They didn't walk very far in terms of distance across the vast property in the hour they had out in the cold, but they did crest a little hill at the edge of the wood that looked out over the frozen lake, and Severus pointed out various features of the land they owned.

Back inside Harry was pleased to find that Calen was nowhere in sight, and went to his room to get the book he'd been looking at before he'd been interrupted. He sat on his soft bed and read for ten minutes before he heard his and Calen's names being called, and went into the hall. Calen came out of his own room and gave Harry a look he couldn't discern, not angry or smug, but not happy either, and they walked downstairs, Harry a few paces behind his brother. In the dining room they found their father setting out three plates and a tray with sandwiches.

"Sorry boys, I was planning on something else but I'm not feeling well."

Calen's head snapped up. "Are you getting sick?" Harry couldn't help but notice the panic that was in his brother's voice.

Severus waved him away. "I'll be fine, just a cold."

Calen gave him a wary look. "Are you sure?"

Their father locked eyes with Calen and then said gently, "I'm sure."

Harry watched the exchange back and forth with some curiosity and wished he knew what it was about and wished he had that sort of connection with their father, and even with Calen. Calen was worried and their father had the ability to calm him with a look and a few gentle words.

Calen watched their father all through lunch and their father worked hard to suppress a few coughs, which Harry really didn't think sounded that bad. Twice Harry had had pneumonia already from being left outside in the cold at the Dursleys and he was surprised he hadn't caught it a third time after being on the streets for almost two weeks. Harry would know if his father's cough sounded like pneumonia.

At dinner Harry helped in the kitchen and Calen continued to keep a close eye on their father, who now looked like he was also nursing a headache with his coughs and sneezes.

"Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?" Calen asked cautiously as they ate their rice.

"I will be fine," and he gave Calen another reassuring look, this time in a more stern way that Harry and Calen both knew meant ‘stop asking'.

The next day Calen was still hovering and was not the only one to notice their father was looking worse. He spent most of the day on the couch and Harry insisted on cooking the meals since they'd given the house elf the rest of the Christmas break off.

By the third day when they'd gone down to breakfast, their father wasn't there at all and they went back upstairs to find him in bed.

"I'm fine," he said at Calen's anxious look.

"You're not fine," Calen said stubbornly and Harry had to agree. He could usually take care of his own injuries ok to keep himself alive, but he never really knew what he was doing, and had no idea how to take care of a sick person.

"I may have the wizarding influenza."

Calen crossed his arms. "You should go to St. Mungos."

"It will pass. If it is the influenza it will be over in four days."

"It'll be mostly over in 4 days but you're still gonna be sick."

Severus looked sternly up from the bed at his son and said, "I will be fine," enunciating every word. "There is a potion for the influenza in the stores in the kitchen pantry."

Harry and Calen brought him breakfast and lunch, but by dinner he was feverish and sleeping and not well enough to talk to them.

"This is your fault!" Calen said angrily, rounding on Harry when they checked on him at dinner time.

"What did I do?" Harry was surprised. It's not like he'd snapped his fingers and made him sick.

"If you hadn't have gone off into the woods he wouldn't have gone out looking for you without a coat!"

"And whose fault is it I left my room? Who was taunting me and trying to make me feel bad? Who told him I went out to the woods?"

Calen's face grew hot then and Harry took a step back, preparing to be hit in the hall outside their father's room, but Calen pushed past him angrily and out of sight. Harry went to his room, skipping dinner and sat in his chair, ignoring all of the new things he'd gotten for Christmas that were meant to keep him occupied.

Calen was right, it was his fault. But was just the flu, it couldn't be that bad, could it? And yet Calen seemed very agitated over it. You couldn't die from the wizarding flu could you?

As it turned out, you could die from the wizarding flu if it was bad enough. Harry had spent the evening reading through healers books trying to figure out what his father had come down with and was dismayed to find out that if it didn't clear up by day four, or if his father got too dehydrated, he could indeed die. Calen already knew, apparently he'd read about it before Harry had gotten to the books.

Harry searched the house for Calen the next morning and finally found him in a brewing room under the kitchen (a room he didn't know existed until he found the open door at the back of the pantry leading down the stairs).

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

Calen looked up, irritated. "Nothing you can help with. You've done enough already."

"I just wondered," Harry said.

He was about to climb back up the stairs, but Calen pulled him back with, "I'm trying to make more potion for the flu. We ran out last night."

"Do you know how?" Harry asked.

"OF COURSE I KNOW HOW!" Calen snapped loudly at him. He slammed the spoon he'd been using to stir down on the table.

Harry stared at him. "Look, I'm sorry he's sick, but he chose to go out without a coat on. I didn't make him get sick."

"You make EVERYTHING bad happen," Calen shouted. "Everything bad that happens is YOUR fault! The holiday was ruined because of you, he's sick because of you, my life is messed up because of you!"

"How did I ruin Christmas? You got all kinds of presents."

Calen glared at him now. "You can try to fit in here all you want Potter, but he's my father, not yours. I'm tired of saying it so take a hint. After we went to London we were going to go away on a trip to a lodge, but no, we had to stay and take care of poor sick pathetic Potter, didn't we? And then you stroll in and collect your nice new broom, and presents from August and your friends, and if you're really going to be happy you'll end up killing MY father by the time you get back to Hogwarts! Then I really won't have a parent will I?"

Calen was breathing heavily and Harry was too even though he hadn't been yelling. So that was it, was it? Calen's mom had died and he was sure their father was going to die too. And as much as Harry hated to admit it, it was in part his fault that he was sick.

"Well, so sorry to inconvenience you King Calen, because I wanted a brother and a father and a life like I never had before. So sorry to ruin your trip so that I didn't have to keep sleeping on the frozen ground behind a trash can stuffing newspapers up my shirt so I didn't freeze to death at night. So sorry I came and got Christmas presents for the very first time in my life, and got to eat three meals a day and got to have a room all my own instead of sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs practically on the floor. So terribly sorry to have to come here to get healed because someone told lies to their daddy and got me kicked out of the castle for Christmas so I had to go home and get beaten the second I got off the train. Yeah, that's right," Harry said at the look that had come over Calen's face now, though Harry couldn't distinguish it. It wasn't pity. Maybe it was surprise. "King Calen doesn't get to have it all sometimes. Well guess what, this is the first time in my life I got to have it all, ever. But don't worry, you don't want me here, I'll go back out into the cold. And when your daddy wakes up and feels all better, you can tell him where I am and why I'm not here."

Harry turned and stormed back up the stairs. He ran all the way out of the basement and up to his room on the second floor and grabbed his coat. He put on his new heavy boots and warm hat and mittens and dashed back down the stairs and out the front door. Ok, so maybe he wasn't going to run away, he was no fan of living on the streets, but he definitely felt trapped and hurt and angry all at the same time right then and just wanted out of the house. When he got back he'd just stay to himself in his room and wait until their father got better. Calen seemed pretty capable of handling it, and didn't seem to want Harry around to help take care of him. Harry was pretty sure Calen had stayed up with their father all night last night and wouldn't have let Harry stay in the room without starting a fight.

It wasn't until Harry was a good ways beyond the house that he realized there were warm wet tears streaming down his cheeks. The biting wind was making the tear trails burn and he wiped angrily at them. Why did Calen have to be so selfish anyway? Harry didn't want to steal anything away from him. Why couldn't they just share? It's not like Harry was going to demand 100% of their father's time and money, in fact he'd be happy if he could just have a little of his time and no new things at all. He'd really gotten along quite well up to this point with no money, but he didn't like the thought of continuing on without anyone to care about him. No, he didn't want that at all.

Harry was deep in thought as he roamed around the grounds, at first very fast and eventually losing steam and slowing down. He hadn't paid any mind at all to where he'd gone or how far from the house he was, and didn't notice until he heard a strange cracking noise. Frowning, Harry looked around. It wasn't quite the sound of a twig breaking, and he wasn't in the woods. He turned on the spot at another large cracking sound and spied the house a good distance off, but couldn't spot the frozen lake. It had snowed pretty heavily in the last few days and everything was just a white blur... oh. The lake.

With a third large crack, Harry barely registered that the solid ground was suddenly gone beneath him and that he'd been plunged down into icy water. The shock of it alone made him confused and took his breath away. His arms flailed under the water and his hands tried to find purchase on anything at all that was solid, but he was aware that his boots had filled with water now and were trying to pull him down into the icy depths.

Please please! He thought frantically, and finally his hand found the surface of the ice where he'd broken through and he pulled himself up. Gasping for breath as the sharp cold air met his lungs, Harry scrambled to pull himself up, but the ice continued to crack in the silence of the desolate snowy landscape and break away.

How was it possible to be so tired already, Harry wondered as he struggled just to hold on, let alone pull himself from the water. All his energy had been sapped away by the cold but he was certain he'd only been in it for a few moments, no, had it been minutes, or maybe hours? His mind was fuzzy and he couldn't decide if the water had confused him or if the cold was actually freezing his brain.

"Please," he tried to call out, but it came as barely more than a whisper. "Please please." He willed his father to get up out of bed and come save him, or August to suddenly appear and pull him up, but there was no one.

I'm going to die, Harry thought. I'm actually going to die. This is it. I'll never see my father again, or my friends. I'll never get to sleep in that great warm bed under that warm blanket again. I'll never get to finish that book about the boy and the axe. I'll never be loved.

And then when Harry was about to let go because he couldn't hold on any longer, a hand appeared and grabbed his wrist. Harry tried to focus on whose hand it was but he couldn't, he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Grab on!" The voice sounded like Calen's, but Harry knew Calen was in the basement and even if he weren't, he'd never save him. He couldn't see Calen's face either, just the hand. Harry took hold of it as best as his frozen fingers would allow and struggled to climb up onto the still breaking ice as the hand pulled him up. It seemed like hours trying to fight to get onto the ice, but when he was finally there he did see Calen lying flat on his stomach.

"Don't try to stand up!" Calen warned, and Harry didn't dare disobey. He knew the ice was still cracking and he and Calen could fall back in at any moment.

Calen grabbed Harry's hand and began inching backwards, still on his stomach. It was slow going and Harry tried to help but he felt like he was going to freeze solid. Somehow it was colder here in the snow with the wind than it was in the icy water.

"Come on," Calen urged and finally stood up and tried to get Harry up. They were the same size though and Calen had difficulty getting Harry up. There was no way he could carry him.

Harry felt unaware of what was really going on around him. One moment he was being lifted up in the powdery snow and the next he was stumbling and falling face first to the white world, and the next he was in the entry way to the house and Calen was stripping him naked of his soaking wet clothes.

"So cold," Harry said.

"So stupid," Calen replied and Harry allowed himself to be stood up and lead naked through the house to a downstairs bathroom, where Calen dumped him unceremoniously into a bathtub and began to fill it with what Harry thought was scalding hot water.

"Too hot!" Harry cried out, but Calen slapped his hand away from the tap.

"It's on cold. I can't put hot water in until your body temperature has come up. Leave it alone!"

Harry sat back and Calen disappeared for a few moments, coming back with a clear potion which he dumped into the water. He left again and Harry began to shiver. That was odd, why hadn't he been shivering before?

It felt like hours to Harry before Calen came back again but was only a few minutes. Calen turned the tap up a little and warmer water came out.

"How do you know to do this?" Harry asked.

"I read more than Potion's books," Calen snapped. "Unlike you I want to do better in more than one class."

"You already had him," Harry said. "I was still trying." He didn't elaborate but he didn't need to and he knew it. Calen knew what it was like trying to win a father over, only while Harry was still trying to win a father's approval, Calen was trying desperately hard to keep it.

Calen and Harry sat silently in the bathroom for a long time, Harry gradually warming up and Calen continuing to drain cold water from the bathtub and add slightly warmer water.

"None of your fingers or limbs are turning black," Calen said.

"I'm assuming that's a good thing?"

"Unfortunately."

"I feel awful."

"It's your own fault. Why'd you have to go and walk on the lake? The ice won't be thick enough to walk on for another month and that's only if it's cold enough."

"The snow was covering everything. I've only been on the grounds once. I didn't realize I was on the lake until I went through."

Calen shook his head, looking disgusted.

"Well after today I'm not taking care of you. He's really sick up there, he's hallucinating. I can't keep an eye on him and on you. I'm not a healer yet."

"A healer. Is that what you want to be?"

"Maybe." He left and came back with another potion, this time pink and dumped it into the water too.

"I don't know what I want to be," Harry said.

"Maybe I don't care," Calen said.

Harry looked over, feeling dizzy and tried to focus on his brother's face. "Maybe you didn't have to save me from the frozen lake. But you did."

"So what, I'm not a murderer. I saw you fall through from the kitchen window."

"Huh."

When Calen finally emptied and filled the tub for the last time and then left and came back with a pair of Harry's clothes and his robe and slippers, Harry said, "Thanks. For saving me."

Calen gave him a look and then blew air out of his mouth, sort of like Harry thought a bull might blow air out of his nose, and then left. Harry dressed and weakly made his way to the family room where the decorated tree was still lit up. He collapsed onto the couch and went to sleep, glad that he hadn't died. He was glad he'd had a brother to save him from drowning.

Harry knew he was in trouble when he woke up coughing. That's how pneumonia always started. The cough wasn't bad yet, but he knew he was feverish and after being exposed to such cold and then being slowly dragged up through the snow in wet clothes to the house, he had a feeling this wasn't a regular cough. He felt hot and sticky in his robe from where he'd woken on the couch, so he peeled the robe off of himself and rolled up his sleeves. Well this sucked, he thought to himself. Calen had already said he wasn't going to take care of him, and his father was too sick to care for him either. By the clock on the mantle Harry knew it was only nine at night. Maybe if he could hold out long enough for his father to get better... Tomorrow would be the third day of him really being in the midst of the flu, and he'd start to feel better after day four, right? But he knew he'd still be fairly sick after that and probably not in the best shape to take care of Harry.

Ok, so what were his other options? The last two times he'd had pneumonia the school had forced the Dursleys to take him to the hospital, because the school knew he was sick and they couldn't get away with not taking care of him if other people knew. He would go to Hogwarts or Mungo's if he knew how to use the floo, but he didn't and he didn't know if either were on the floo network. That also nixed August and the Weasley's, not that he'd been to their house before or would know the address.

What about an owl? He could send an owl couldn't he? Wait, he didn't think his father or brother had an owl, and it would still take a long time for an owl to get anywhere.

Harry sat down again, feeling dizzy on his feet. The room was still spinning and he lay back down and closed his eyes, trying to suppress his coughing.

When he next awoke he hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. Light was streaming in and he felt horrible. His limbs ached and he was overcome with a wracking cough that made his lungs hurt. If this was pneumonia, he was worried. It had never come up on him this fast before. Both times before it had taken days, a week even to get this bad.

Harry stumbled off the couch and made his way to the bathroom, where he had to stop and cough again, and felt exhausted by the time he finally got back to the couch. The thought of trying to make it all the way up to his room up two flights of stairs seemed like an impossibly daunting task.

"Calen?" He called, but there was no answer. He'd just lay there on the couch then and keep an eye out for his brother to pass by on his way to the kitchen. He'd have to get something to eat sometime. Unless he knew of some other secret passageway that would allow him to bypass the main downstairs hall altogether.

After waiting all day and the sky had grown dark, Harry decided to try to make his way up the stairs instead of waiting, else he lay there and starve or die without medicine. He coughed all the way up through the house and took two breaks on the stairs before continuing on.

"Calen?" he tried again. There was no answer. At the door to his father's room, he called for Calen again and his brother came out.

"You're sick, don't go in there," Calen said. "The last thing I need is for him to get whatever you have too."

"I think I've got pneumonia."

"And you know this because?"

"Because I've had it before."

Calen sighed. "I told you, I can't take care of you and him."

Harry shivered and swayed then.

"Can you owl August?"

"We don't have an owl. Our last owl got attacked by a bigger owl on its way over Dundee Wood."

"Can you use floo?"

"No, father hasn't taught me yet."

Harry coughed hard then and both boys looked at the door as an equally frightening cough came from the other side. "Fine, I'll take care of myself. You take care of him. I'll find my own way to get to August. He doesn't live that far away."

Calen glared at him and disappeared into his room. Harry made towards his own bedroom door at the end of the hall, but Calen had come back before he reached it. "Here's August's address. The floo powder is above the mantle but good luck figuring out how to get it to work. I tried last night to fire call Mungo's and couldn't make it work."

Harry took the slip of paper and nodded once in thanks, wishing he hadn't then because the hall began to spin faster.

Inside he started putting on layer after layer of shirts followed by his heavy coat and his new shoes, not the boots that had been soaked and were probably still sitting wet somewhere. He also put on another hat and another pair of gloves, and grabbed his broom. He had no intention of trying the floo and waiting for himself to get sicker. He could fly to August's house faster than he could get the floo to work.

Calen wasn't in the hall when he came back out ten minutes later and he didn't want to knock on his father's door and disturb him when he was sick. Forgetting what time it was Harry looked out the windows to be sure it was still dark and then carefully, dizzily made his way down to the front door. Outside he was happy to find that the wind wasn't blowing very hard and the sky was clear. It was still bitterly cold and Harry gave a terrible cough, but he thought that in his layers and on his new fast broom, he just might make it. He closed the door, mounted his broom, and set off into the night.

* * *

August was just getting ready to settle into bed with a good book when he heard a strange thump downstairs followed by what he thought was frantic knocking on the front door. That was strange, he thought. People usually didn't come to visit him and if they did it was by floo. Maybe the neighbor's house was on fire or something. One house had already caught fire last week. With such cold everyone had a fire going in the grate.

Hurrying downstairs, August opened the front door and Harry stumbled inside, broom falling to the floor as Harry was overcome with a terrible coughing fit. He could barely seem to catch his breath after.

"Harry! What's wrong? What's going on? Where's your father and Calen?"

"Sick," Harry said, and August held him up long enough to get him inside, pick up his broom, and shut the door against the cold. It had just begun to snow again.

"You flew all the way here by yourself?"

"It was farther than I thought." Harry coughed hard again.

"Why didn't you use the floo?"

"We didn't know how."

August helped Harry to the couch in the next room and began pulling his many layers off and feeling his forehead. He was running a high fever and his face was flushed.

"I don't understand. Severus didn't help you use the floo?"

"He's sick. He's got the wizarding flu. Calen was taking care of him, but he couldn't take care of me and him. I think I've got-" he coughed violently and after he'd finally caught his breath again he finished, "I think I've got pneumonia. I've had it before a couple of times."

"How did you get sick Harry?"

"I got mad at Calen. I stormed out of the house and didn't- didn't-" August could tell Harry was frustrated at not being able to finish speaking as he coughed again. "Didn't see where I was going. I fell through the frozen lake. Calen saw from the house and came out and saved me."

"When was this?" August was surprised. He'd only seen them a week ago. He didn't think so much chaos could happen in less than a week.

"Couple days ago. Not sure. Think my father- think he got sick- few days ago."

"All right, all right, that's enough." August helped Harry lay back on the couch and took his shoes off before getting a blanket from a nearby chair and putting it over Harry.

"Harry, stay here." He locked eyes to be sure the Gryffindor was listening to him. "I mean it. No flying off. I'm going to check on Calen and Severus, and then I'll be back to take care of you. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. "Gonna sleep."

"Good." He went to the fireplace and then turned back to the couch and pointed at Harry. "Stay." But Harry's eyes were already closed so he only nodded.

* * *

"What do you mean he's at your house?"

"He flew there."

"I thought he was going to try to make the floo work again. I didn't know he was going to fly. You can't be mad at me for that."

August held up his hand. "I'm not angry. Please take me to your father so I can see him."

Calen led him upstairs and watched anxiously as August looked over his father and tried to rouse him.

"Well, his fever isn't so bad. Looks like you've done a pretty decent job of taking care of him."

"It was high yesterday."

"Well hopefully he's on the downswing of it. He should be coherent enough tomorrow to talk to. When he starts talking again you need to tell him where Harry is and that he's sick."

"No," Calen said adamantly and August stared down at him. "I'm not going to send him off out into the cold again just to bring back Harry. It's not my fault he's sick or too stupid to stay put."

"Did you tell him you couldn't take care of him?"

Calen crossed his arms.

"And is pneumonia dangerous enough that it could lead to death?"

Calen looked away. "That's what I thought and I know you know it as well. I would have thought with how your mother died you would have put more effort into helping Harry."

"I didn't think he actually had pneumonia."

"But he could have, and he does, and as the only fit person left in this house it was your job to take care of them both as best as you could."

"Look! What do you want from me? I risked my life to get him out of the lake! I dragged him back up here, stripped the wet clothes off, warmed him up and gave him potions so he didn't stay hypothermic! Then I brought him warm dry clothes!"

"And that was good, but you did the bare minimum for him and you know it." Feeling heated now because he cared about Harry very much, August stepped back and took a breath and ran his hand through his hair. He shouldn't be arguing with a twelve year old.

"Look Calen, you've done good, ok, just, keep taking care of your father, and tell him about Harry when he wakes up and starts talking sense, ok? I'll send an owl to you tonight and you can keep it here and send it back to me if you need any help. You were very brave to help Harry and you're being very responsible taking care of your father now."

Calen uncrossed his arms and August realized how tired and worried he looked. "You're dad's going to be fine and I'll make sure Harry's fine."

"Thanks," Calen said, and he watched August go back down the hall before going back into his father's dark room, and sitting back in the chair he'd been occupying for days now.

* * *

Harry only got worse over the next two days and the coughing grew to a point where the Potions the healer had given August weren't helping and Harry was having real difficulty breathing between coughing spells.

"Thanks," Harry said weakly, sitting on the couch by the fire on his third day there.

"For?"

"Taking care of me. I think Calen would have done a good job too... I think he'll be a healer."

"If he can get over his fear of others taking things from him first," August said. He looked weary and Harry felt bad for keeping him up so late at night with his coughing. Harry couldn't sleep either, even when he wasn't coughing, because if he lay down at all he would cough so hard he'd lose his breath.

"I'll be all right if you want to go to sleep," Harry said, and August gave a small smile.

"I was just thinking of going back to check on Severus and Calen. They haven't sent the owl back and I had expected to hear from them by now."

Harry didn't say that he didn't think they'd come to check on him any time soon.

"If I don't go tonight I'll need to go tomorrow morning. School starts again the day after tomorrow and if you and Severus are still sick I'll need to contact the Headmaster to let him know we won't be returning for another week."

"It's ok Professor," Harry said, head against the back of the couch and eyes closed. "You don't have to stay just to take care of me. You can take me back and I can go to the Hospital Wing."

"I know I don't have to," August said. "I want to. Besides, I can't force your father to go back and once we're at the castle it will be more difficult for me to leave to check on him and Calen."

Harry sighed and started coughing again, gasping for breath when he was done.

August was about to tell Harry to try to get some sleep, but the floo flared at that moment and Calen and Severus stepped through, Severus still looking worn down and unwell and Calen looking guilty.

"There you are," August said with relief. "I was about to come through and check on you again."

"My apologies," Severus said. "I was delayed." Here he gave a pointed look to Calen but Calen was looking at the floor.

"Didn't he tell you about Harry?" August asked seriously as Severus moved to the couch to feel Harry's forehead and Harry went into another coughing fit.

"I did I swear!" Calen said. "But I waited until he was well enough to stand up first or else it wouldn't have done any good!"

Severus gave Calen a serious look and he quieted down.

"Thank you for your assistance," Severus said to August and he waved him away. "I will be taking Harry back to the manor to take care of him. I wondered if you would be willing to take Calen to Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon so he can arrive with the rest of the students."

"Of course," August said. "What should I tell the Headmaster about you and Harry?"

"You may tell him what you like. I will contact him tomorrow evening."

"Ok." He turned to Calen. "Calen, I'll take you back through the floo now to get your things and then you can stay the night here in the guest room."

"Yes sir." Calen said. Harry thought he sounded a little cowed and wondered if their father had yelled at him or hit him, and then wondered what he'd done to deserve it after he'd nursed their father back to health and saved Harry's life.

August took Calen through the floo and in the five minutes it took them to come back with Calen's things, Harry had dozed off, though he woke when they returned because he heard August and his father talking.

"Has he seen a healer yet?"

"There was one in town. He made a house call and gave us these." Harry assumed he had motioned to the potions on the mantelpiece. "They don't seem to be doing much good though, he's worse off than when he arrived."

"No doubt the cold flight did not help."

"Definitely not. He can't lay down or he starts coughing right away, and he hasn't gotten much sleep sitting up. I was considering taking him to St Mungo's."

"I will contact Madam Pomfrey tomorrow and have her come through to the manor. If she thinks its necessary I'll take him to the Hospital Wing. Otherwise we'll return to the school when he's able to return."

"Will you go to the Ministry first?"

"Yes."

Harry must have dozed off again, because the next time he woke he'd lost the thread of conversation and his father was trying to wake him and get him to stand up. August and Calen were gone.

"Time to go home," his father said, and Harry stood up. He could stand just fine, but changing positions always made him cough. Even having pneumonia before, this was sicker than he could ever remember being, maybe because the teachers in primary had always forced the Dursleys to take him to the doctor before it got too bad.

In just a few minutes they were back at the manor and Harry was up in his warm bed. He didn't mind August's couch, and it was very kind of him to let him stay there and take care of him, but he much preferred his own bed, in his own room, in his own home. Even as Harry allowed his father to prop him up with pillows so he could sit and try to sleep, he smiled inside knowing that he had a bed, a room, and a home now, and that his father had come for him.

Severus coughed then and Harry opened his eyes and looked up at his father. "You're still sick," he said, and was waved away.

"Do not worry yourself over it. I will be fine by tomorrow or the next day. Try to get some sleep."

Harry snuggled under the covers and against the pillows, and fell asleep quickly.

* * *

Harry wondered if his father had given him a potion to sleep because he couldn't remember taking anything, but when he next awoke, Madam Pomfrey was by his bed and there was light coming in through his windows.

"Hello Harry dear, how are you feeling?"

"Ugh," Harry said and began coughing, trying to cover his cough before he spread his germs all over the place.

"I heard you had a fall through the ice. You're very lucky to be here."

"Yeah," he agreed. He was very lucky to be here at all, even before the ice.

"You've definitely got pneumonia, but I'm not sure why the other healer didn't give you something to stop the coughing along with something to get rid of the pneumonia."

Harry looked around for his father but couldn't spot him.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Almost five in the evening, you slept for quite a while. Your father just called through to the school and I came through about ten minutes ago. He's still downstairs talking to the Headmaster."

"Oh. Did August and Calen go back to school?"

"I would assume so but I haven't seen them. If you stay in bed and take the healing Potions you'll probably be back at school before the end of the week, but you might not be ready for classes until next week."

"Ron and Hermione will wonder where I am."

"Don't worry, I'll tell them you're fine."

"Er... Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes Harry?"

"My friends don't know anything about my father or brother."

"And you want to tell them yourself?"

"Sort of."

"I'll just tell them you're sick at home and will come back when you're well then. You are as private a person as your father and Calen are, but I suspect you already know that given your fighting at school with Calen."

"I never start those."

She gave him a close looking over. "I might be more inclined to believe that if I hadn't seen you after fighting Professor Quirril."

Harry turned red and then was luckily saved by another coughing spell.

Madam Pomfrey continued to check him over until his father came in, and then the conversed about which potions Harry should have and when. When she left, Harry thanked her and immediately took three potions his father had mixed together in a cup for him.

"This should help the coughing."

"Thanks."

"Do you want any of your books? You should stay in bed until you're breathing better. It will give the potions you're taking more time to work.

"Maybe that stack on the desk," Harry said, pleased that he no longer felt such a strong urge to cough whenever he spoke.

With a wave of his wand an end table appeared next to his bed and his father brought the stack of books over. Some of them were his new books from Christmas, and some were from the Children's den.

"You like Muggle books?"

"Some of them," Harry agreed.

"Hm." He picked up Hatchet and then set it back down on the stack. "Would you like to tell me your version of events after I got sick?"

Harry bit his lip. Was he in trouble? He really hadn't known where the edge of the lake was under all that snow. "Will you be mad if I don't?"

"I will not be angry either way. I do appreciate knowing the truth however, as Calen already knows. I appreciate that while I was incapacitated you both did your best, and I already have Calen's side of the story, but I would like yours as well. I am unclear why you chose to fly to August's house in ten degree weather."

"You got sick," Harry started. "And Calen blamed me. He didn't want my help taking care of you. I went downstairs to find him one day, and he was brewing potion. He got angry at me and I got angry at him. I wanted to cool off so I put my warm clothes on and went outside. I wasn't going to go into the forest," Harry said then looking up at his father to gauge his reaction to this. "I just wanted to walk around for a bit." He stopped and coughed hard, and then continued. Looking at the red bedspread. "Everything was all covered in snow and I guess I walked out onto the lake. By the time I realized I was on cracking ice, I fell through. I don't know how long I was in but I guess Calen saw me from the kitchen and he ran down and pulled me out. Then he got me back to the house somehow, got the cold clothes off me and put me in the bathtub. He spent probably an hour warming me up."

"And then?"

"Uh... well I got dressed and laid down on the couch."

"What did Calen do after that?"

"He went back upstairs to take care of you I guess. I went to sleep and didn't see him again until the next night when I went upstairs. I was sick. He said he couldn't take care of me and you. He gave me August's address and said he didn't know how to use the floo, then he went back to take care of you."

"And you decided to fly to August's house?"

"Yes. I didn't know it was so far."

"And you knew you had pneumonia?"

"Yes."

"How did you know? Did Calen tell you?"

"No, I've had it before."

"You've had pneumonia before?"

"Twice in primary."

"Hm."

They were silent for a moment and Harry chose to observe the stack of books next to him on the nightstand. He had three new potion's texts waiting for him to dig into in the middle of the stack, and he supposed Calen had already gone through his own new books and he had some catching up to do if he was going to get on top in Potions when he got back.

"You had pneumonia before Hogwarts, from being on the street?"

Harry looked up. "No." His father wanted to know about the Dursley's again. Harry didn't want to tell. He hadn't even told August a fraction of what there was to tell.

He thought his father would keep pressing him on the subject, but was surprised when he told him to get some rest and that he would be back to check on him later, and then left, leaving Harry's door open, presumably so he could call if he needed something. How odd, Harry thought as he had another coughing fit. He didn't even seem irritated that Harry hadn't given him any more information. He rearranged his stack of books and put Hatchet on the bottom, and the Potions texts on top, and then started reading. He couldn't concentrate though. His thoughts kept going back to Calen. He remembered seeing some of the books Calen had gotten for Christmas, they were books about healing. Calen wanted to be a Healer and Harry could see why, he was pretty good at it. Harry had no idea what he wanted to be when he got older though. He was only twelve and he couldn't see how Calen knew already what he wanted to do. Maybe he'd have to ask his father when he came back to check on him. Harry thought being a Healer might be ok, but it didn't seem all that exciting to him and he wanted adventure in his life, yet somehow Quidditch didn't seem like a worthy thing to do as an adult either. Hm... a few weeks ago he couldn't even figure out where his next meal was going to come from or how to stay warm at night, and now he was laying in a warm bed with a full stomach, and trying to figure out what to do with his life. He thought Hermione might be proud of him at least.

* * *

"Why does Calen want to be a Healer?"

Severus gave Harry a curious look as he wrung out the wet cloth over the bucket and went back to mopping the sweat off of his son's face. Harry's fever was back in full force and though the coughing had slowed, he still wasn't breathing well. It was nearly three in the morning

"Have you asked him?" He was surprised that Harry knew his brother wanted to be a Healer at all.

"No."

"But you know he wants to be a Healer?"

"I saw some of the books he got for Christmas, and he knew what to do to warm me up and take care of you."

"You are aware that his mother died before Hogwarts."

"Yeah."

"Do you know how?"

"No."

"She died of pneumonia. She did not want to go to the doctor early on and he did not know how to take care of her. By the time he convinced her to go to the doctor, she was very sick. She died in the hospital a few days later."

"And he went to the orphanage," Harry said.

"Yes."

He understood now why Calen had been so cautious when their father had gotten sick with the wizarding flu, and also why he was so angry at Harry for causing it. And suddenly what August had said the other day made sense too... Calen could be a good healer if he stopped being afraid of people taking things from him. He wondered who Calen thought had taken his mother from him.

"Do you think Calen blames himself for his mum dying?"

"No."

"The doctors then?"

"He blames me."

"What?" Harry tried to sit up but his father gently held him down and Harry stopped struggling after only a moment, not having much energy anyway. "He likes you so much though! He gets upset just because I'm here because he thinks I'm here to steal you from him!"

"That is... interesting. When you are not here, he is often difficult because he is still angry with me."

"I don't understand. He's the one who had the great plan to get you first year."

"As good as fighting Voldemort for a stone?"

Harry grumbled something and Severus caught the name August but nothing else.

"He did not want to stay in the orphanage, and he wants to be part of a family, that does not mean he is finished being angry with me for not being there for him and his mother. He believes if I was there with them, I could have prevented her from dying."

"Calen is so weird," Harry said, and wondered at the soft chuckle that escaped his father's lips at that.

"What?"

Severus shook his head and took the cloth back to dip it in the water and ring it out again.

"He often insists that you are strange to him. The two of you have grown up in very different ways, but are very much alike."

Harry grew silent and looked like he was deep in thought and Severus allowed it for several minutes before he said, "You look as though you have something you want to say."

"You were very mean to me at school."

"Yes."

Harry locked eyes with him. Here he was: hot, sweaty, sick, and feeling terrible, and there his father was taking care of him and acknowledging him, something he never thought would happen. He certainly didn't expect him to admit to treating him poorly at school though. But he had.

"In primary, I did want to be like Calen, because he had friends and I pretended he was my brother because we looked alike. But at Hogwarts when I got to know him I didn't want to be like him, I just wanted what he had. And then you came and slashed my hair off after I worked on growing it out for two months and accused me without even asking me. You wanted to know why I talked to August but not you... Calen made it bad enough, but you made it impossible to talk to you."

Severus sighed and sat back on the three legged stool he had occupied for the last hour and a half. He ran his sweaty palm down the side of his pants and wondered if his own fever were returning as he still wasn't feeling up to par himself.

"I am sorry for the way I treated you. Perhaps I should re-think the way I deal with students."

Harry turned away. No, he wasn't supposed to apologize. Harry was confused because knowing that Calen was mad at him still, Harry felt like it was ok for him to still be a little angry too at the way he'd been treated. His father apologizing was making it very hard for him to be angry.

"My promise to you and to Calen is to take care of the two of you to the best of my ability. I am, still growing accustomed to what that means, to be a father. I may still make mistakes, but I am trying. I will not ever violate your personal space or hair again in the way I did at Hogwarts. I am sorry for that act. And I will try to be approachable to the both of you."

"You're not so bad here," Harry repeated his earlier sentiment from weeks ago.

"That is, a relief." Harry couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"I think I'll cut my hair short again anyway. I didn't like it long. I just wanted you to see that I could be yours too."

"Calen will be relieved."

"I don't want to be him. I'm good with being me."

Severus nodded. "Are there any other attempts you made to get me to notice you that I should be aware of?"

Harry thought. "Only I want to be top in Potions."

"Yes, I had gathered as much," Severus said. He had been as irritated as Calen had that he and Calen frequently switched places by a single point into the 2 and 3 positions, and Granger only held onto the number 1 position by a thread. The other staff thought it was cute and amusing that three students wanted the number 1 spot so badly, but he had found it everything but amusing.

It was almost five in the morning before Harry was able to get back to sleep, though his fever still hadn't broken yet. Severus took the opportunity to sleep as well, leaving his and Harry's bedroom doors open in case Harry called for him, but he didn't.

* * *

School had been back in for four days by the time Harry was well enough to move around the house. He was still coughing, but it no longer caused him trouble breathing, and his fever was long gone. Severus thought that Harry deserved an extra few days of vacation after having been out on the streets for the first part of the holiday though, and was in no rush to take him back to Hogwarts.

"We will return to Hogwarts tomorrow morning if you are amenable," he said. "We will need to go to the Ministry today to fill out the papers giving me full custody of you, if you feel well enough."

"I feel great!" Harry said trying to hide his cough.

"Go dress warmly then. Do not worry about packing your things, we will do that when we return."

Harry hurried up the stairs and put on the red shirt August had given him and then some other nice clothes he'd gotten for Christmas, and went back down to the family room.

"What will we have to do at the Ministry?" Harry asked eagerly as they went to the fireplace to take the floo. His father hadn't said it but Harry thought he still might not be feeling the best and he wasn't willing to use a lot of energy to apparate just yet.

"They will do the same test you preformed in the alley, with slightly less dramatic nature," he gave Harry a serious look and Harry blushed. "Then we will both sign papers saying you are my legal son and I am your legal guardian. It will make you a co-inheritor of the Prince family land and assets with Calen.

Harry asked his father to tell him exactly how the floo network worked (just in case he'd ever need to use it in an emergency again) and then they went through to the Ministry. Harry had never been here before, though he'd heard Ron talk about it, and took everything in as best as he could while his father lead him to a lift and pushed a button to take them down several levels.

Almost as soon as they stepped off, someone called, "Harry Potter! Bless my stars!" Harry and Severus looked up to find a man with a round face and bright orange hair.

"Sir?" Harry asked, looking up at him.

"Oh, sorry Harry, Severus." He held out his hand to Harry to shake, and judging by the look on his father's face he already knew who this was, so he took it.

"I'm Arthur Weasley, Ronald's father. He's told us all about you of course. I thought you would have been at school."

"We're here to fill out some paperwork," Severus said, and at Arthur's curious look he said, "I am Harry's legal guardian. We are just making it official."

"Is that so?"

Harry tilted his head a little as he looked at Ron's dad. If aunt Petunia had said ‘is that so' about a neighbor, it would have sent chills up and down Harry's spine because he knew she'd use it against them, but the way Mr. Weasley said it, it was only a curious tone. Harry thought he rather liked Mr. Weasley, even if he'd only met him on this one brief encounter.

"Harry is my son," Severus said, and he put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry was surprised. Granted he'd only known his father for a short time, but he, like Madam Pomfrey, knew he was a private man. He never thought he'd just come out and proclaim him to be his son like that.

"Well, bless me," Ron's dad said. "Two sons in such a short time Severus! You're a lucky man! And you're a lucky young man too Harry."

"Yeah," Harry said, and Severus reached up and put his hand on Harry's newly cut and very short hair.

"If you'll excuse us Arthur," Severus said and Mr. Weasley moved aside.

"Oh yes, of course of course. I'm on my way to a meeting myself. Good to meet you Harry! Ron's been asking if you can come stay for a while in the summer. We'll have to set something up."

Severus nodded and Arthur moved onto the lift as they continued down the hall, though Harry heard Mr. Weasley faintly say, ‘my stars,' again as the lift rose out of sight.

Harry was feeling in a very chipper mood until they actually sat down at the desk across from the woman in the legal affairs office. She'd preformed the test with a pinprick of blood from each of them, asked Severus several questions, and had him sign four pieces of parchment before she turned to Harry and asked, "You live with your Muggle relatives who currently have legal custody over you. We will have to file for a separation of their rights in the Muggle courts and we must have a reason that will satisfy the Muggles. Is their care of you unsatisfactory?"

Harry froze. Of course their care of him was unsatisfactory, but he didn't want to say anything to her about it, or to his father. That would be too revealing. Why couldn't they just sign the papers and be done with it?

When Harry failed to answer, Severus said, "When I encountered him over the holiday, he was living on the streets in London and missing a shoe. He had no warm clothing and no money."

Harry supposed that was ok, he could make something up to go with that, and was thankful his father hadn't mentioned the bruises.

"Harry, how did you come to be on the streets?"

"Don't want to talk about it," Harry said. He felt his father tense beside him, and he tensed too, knowing he would be angry that they'd come all this way but Harry didn't want to talk about it still.

"We will need something to tell the courts. You will not have to be present. We will have a ministry member who has taken Polyjuice present to answer for you, but we must have an answer."

Harry looked up at his father who he could tell was trying to look encouraging, but Harry said, "I don't want to answer."

Severus leaned in and said, "I cannot force you to answer, but they cannot finish the paperwork until you do."

"Can I just make something up?" Harry asked, turning to the woman.

"It needs to be the truth."

"What if I just make something up anyway? You'll never know if it's the truth or not."

She gave Severus a look and he gave a silent nod, so she said, "No, I suppose we'll never know if it's the truth or not."

Harry took a breath. Ok, he could just tell them a few things, this would work. He didn't want to have to go back to school without being officially part of his family. Calen would hold it over him if he didn't come back a Snape.

"They don't like magic, so they didn't like it when I came home for Christmas. They hit me and drove me back to London and dumped me on the street."

"You'll have to... make up, more than that," the woman said gently. Harry was aware of how stiffly his father was sitting next to him, and also that he wasn't looking at him.

"Ok," Harry pretended to be thinking. "They don't feed me or anything, and my room is a cupboard under the stairs with a little mat to sleep on."

"Can you think of more? The Muggle courts can be very strict about taking a child from the custody of a family member."

"Uh-" Harry wiped his hands down the side of his pants, and hoped they wouldn't start shaking. "I don't know," he said, his voice faltered.

"Do they take care of you when you're sick or injured?"

"No-" he felt like they weren't buying that it was all lies and was feeling nervous.

"Did they let you go to school?"

"Yes."

"What were their punishments like?"

Damn, his hands were really shaking now, and he startled when he felt a warm hand suddenly take hold of his shaking one. He looked down and then followed the arm of the owner up to his face. It was his father. He turned red and looked down at his lap, but didn't pull his hand away. No one had ever held his hand before.

"Harry?"

The woman was prompting him again but his insides were butterflies now and he didn't want to go on.

"Do you have enough to go on?" Severus asked, and there was silence for a moment aside from a shuffling of papers and the sound of a child crying somewhere down the hall about a lost stuffed animal.

"It would help if we could tell them what the punishments were. If the court doesn't accept the story we give them, his relatives could demand we return Harry from school to them."

Harry was trying hard to shut out the sounds around him. Maybe he shouldn't say anything else, and just be content to go back to Hogwarts as Harry Potter. His father had claimed him hadn't he? Did a last name and inheritance really matter?

His father squeezed his hand and he came back to reality.

"I- I guess I could make up some more," he said quietly, but he didn't lift his eyes from his lap.

"No food if all the chores weren't done, and I didn't eat at the table with them, I only ate after they were done eating. And I didn't have any toys or new clothes, I just wore my cousin's old things that were too big and full of holes. And they wouldn't take me to get school supplies when I came back to school, and sometimes I got locked out of the house at night and slept in the shed."

"His cousin prevented him from making friends at school," Severus supplied. "Harry and Calen went to school together for a few years before Hogwarts and he told me Harry's cousin often isolated him and prevented him from speaking to others."

"Is this true Harry?"

"I guess."

"Ok Harry, I think this will be enough. Thank you."

She pushed some papers forward to Harry and he had to sign them, and then they left the office.

Instead of taking the floo back to the Manor Severus lead him up a lift that took them up to Muggle London and said they would get lunch before returning. They walked to the entrance of Diagonalley and went in.

"You're very quiet," Severus observed. Harry had his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes glued to the street just in front of his feet. He shrugged.

"What kind of food would you like for lunch?"

Another shrug.

"Is there anything you would like to talk about while we look for a place to eat?"

Shrug.

Severus steered him into a warm restaurant Harry hadn't seen before that served wizarding Chinese food and Harry got a hot bun with some sort of meat and an egg inside, and though he enjoyed it, he ate in silence. When they were done, Severus apparated them home and Harry went up to his room.

It was hours later before Severus trekked upstairs to find his son packing his things into a new sleek black trunk he'd received for Christmas.

"I can't fit it all," Harry said, motioning to his school supplies, clothes, and new books and other gifts.

Severus moved forward and helped to weed out some of the unnecessary items and showed Harry how to pack everything in tightly so the lid would close, and watched Harry put the rest of the things away in his desk drawers and on his shelves.

"There, ready to go back tomorrow," Harry said. Severus noted that Harry had already used a quill to scratch out ‘Potter' on the name tag of the trunk and write in ‘Snape.'

"Harry."

Harry turned and saw that his father was looking at him with a look that looked too much like pity.

"It's not true, any of it, I made it up," he said, and Severus gave a nod before going to sit down on Harry's desk chair.

"I know," Severus said. "But when you are ready to tell me the truth, I'll be ready to listen."

Harry bit his lip. Maybe his father was more like August than he thought. He certainly seemed like a far cry from the icy, unbending Potion's Master he last saw at Hogwarts cutting off his hair.

"I know," Harry said. I know.

* * *

While Harry was sad to leave his new home, he knew it was only temporary, and he was fairly excited to return to Hogwarts, his friends, and Potion's class. He had left for Christmas Harry Potter, uncertain of if he had a family, and come back Harry Snape, a boy with a father, and a brother, even if he and his brother might not ever come to a truce.

It was before breakfast when they appeared outside the main gates and began their walk up the snowy lawns to the castle, and Harry allowed his father to take his trunk as he said goodbye and made his way into the Great Hall, hoping to get some breakfast while he waited for his friends to come down. There were already a few students studying at other tables, the older ones drinking coffee to wake up, and Calen was amongst them. When he spied Harry he came over from Ravenclaw, which was just the next table over from Gryffindor.

"You look better," Calen said quietly.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"So you're all... a Snape now?"

Harry nodded. "Guess I am."

Hands in his pockets, Calen looked around at the other students for a few moments, and then shrugged. "I guess if I have to have a brother, you're not the worst one I could have."

"No, you could have Draco," Harry said as the blond Slytherin strutted into the Great Hall at that moment and sent Harry a sneer.

"Or I could have me."

Harry looked up at him. "Don't worry, you're not so bad."

"I sent you away by broom in winter with pneumonia."

Harry laughed. "Yeah but you saved me from drowning and freezing to death first."

"I guess."

Harry pulled a stack of cards from his jeans pocket and spread them out on the table. "Have you any idea how we're supposed to play this game?"

Calen sat down beside him. "It came with a rule book."

"Yeah but I got to where it said Mana and stopped reading."

"Idiot."

Harry laughed. "See, I'm in good company. You didn't read it either."

Calen nudged him with his elbow and allowed a small smile despite his always sullen former appearance. They talked about the cards for ten more minutes before Ron and Hermione came in and Calen went back to his own table.

"What, you're friends with him now?" Ron asked motioning to Calen.

"Of course," Harry said. "We've teamed up to knock Hermione out of the number one spot in Potions."

"Oh no!" Hermione almost wailed, looking stricken, and Harry and Ron laughed, and from the next table Harry heard his brother laugh too.

"You're all better now?" Ron asked. "Madam Pomfrey said you were home sick."

"Yeah. I'm better."

"Lucky you. You got five extra days to spend at home with all those Christmas presents and no homework. What did you get anyway?"

"I got the best Christmas gift of all."

"What's that Harry?" Hermione asked.

He turned to his friends and smiled. "A father." I got a father for Christmas, he thought to himself, a father for Christmas and a brother too. No, it hadn't been a bad Christmas at all.