Ten years.

It was almost ten years since Lily saw her son. She'd missed everything; each inch taller, and every Birthday, Christmas, or milestone. She didn't even know what he looked like – but was about to find out.

Brushing dark hair from her face, still not used to its shorter length, Lily scanned the crowd of Muggle shoppers. It was August, and the success of her plan rested on Petunia. Lily had waited until the Hogwarts letters were sent, knowing there'd be no reason for an owl to visit Privet Drive before then. Petunia hadn't replied, but it was August and Lily stood anxiously outside the cafe. It was pastel and Victorian-themed, bearing no resemblance to where Petunia announced her pregnancy with warm delight.

Those days were gone, replaced with resentment and pain, as Lily forced her anger down. One loss of control, and everything she'd prepared for her son would fall apart.

Lily scanned the busy London crowd again, half expecting it to rain just to match her mood.

Ten years she'd wondered – trying to picture her little baby as a child. A boy who, in one month, would be attending Hogwarts for the first time. What classes would he enjoy? Would he want to play Quidditch? Which house would he be sorted to? How many friends might he meet on the train? Would he hate her for abandoning him? Had his father figured it out yet?

'So, you're here.'

Lily turned sharply, instinctively flexing a hand to her concealed wand, then exhaled a long breath to calm herself. There stood Petunia, pale and scowling, as if Lily was the one showing up three hours late.

'Hello,' Lily said.

She had no idea how else to begin, but kept her gaze firmly on her sister and not the smaller form beside Petunia. She wasn't ready yet – ten years, and Lily still wasn't ready to be reunited with her child.

'You'll take him,' Petunia said.

'Yes.' Lily nodded, clenching fists.

She had to remain civil, no matter how difficult; Petunia had no idea who she was. Lily, having supposedly died, could not risk appearing as she once had. Her brown hair, hazel eyes, and slightly taller height formed her mask among those who may otherwise recognise her.

As far as Petunia knew, Lily was acting on Dumbledore's orders to “take the boy off her hands”.

'Is this everything?' She carefully avoided the boy, indicating to his trunk and owl cage.

'Yes.' Petunia nodded, frown deepening.

For a second, a shoot of fear jolted Lily – had her sister recognised her?

Petunia stared intently, carefully taking in her appearance, and Lily quickly glanced away. She rattled off everything pre-planned, glad her mouth acted on her own because Lily couldn't remember anything else of importance.

Finally, as Petunia left without so much of a parting glance to her nephew, Lily looked at her eleven-year-old son. It took every ounce of control she possessed not to break into sobs and apologies the instant Lily met his emerald eyes.

She'd almost forgotten the colour.

'Hello,' Harry said, biting his bottom lip.

'Did anyone explain to you who I am?' Lily, marvelled at her ability to talk, reached for his trunk and cage to shift it beside an outside table. She nodded him to sit in one of the rickety chairs.

'No.' Harry frowned, sitting. 'Only that I'll be living with you. When I'm not at school, that is.'

'That last bit was an assumption on their part.' Lily sighed. 'I'll be at Hogwarts with you as well.'

'Oh.' Harry fidgeted. 'Who are you?'

Lily winced. She signalled a waitress, waiting until the food arrived before considering how to unravel ten years of information and apologies.

Seething rage remained under the surface, threatening to boil over in urge to run after Petunia and hex her sister until nothing remained. She hadn't seen her son until now, but Lily knew. Oh, she knew everything – the cupboard under the stairs, lack of full meals – or any sort of meal at all, and the cast-off clothes from Dudley.

She knew Harry was bullied, belittled, roughed around, and neglected beyond what her stomach could handle. And, after the violence she'd both witnessed and caused in the past five years – that was saying a lot.

'Eat what you can.' Lily pushed the plate of sandwiches across their table. 'I know you're hungry; I know what they've done to you.'

Harry stared at her, then shyly looked away and nibbled at a corner of bread.

'You asked who I am.' Lily waited for her son to look up. 'The answer is very long and painful, but you deserve to know. However, if I tell you who I am and why you're going to live with me from now on, you must not tell anyone. Not a single other person, unless I say so – do you understand?'

'Why?' Harry winced. 'I mean, yes. Sorry. I promise.'

'To the world, I am Ellen Aster,' Lily began, 'but to you, and now only you, I am Lily Evans. Or Lily Potter.' She hadn't quite decided which she was, even then.

'What!' Harry yelped, leaning back. 'You...You're...'

'I'm your mother, Harry.' Lily braced herself. 'I'm not dead.'

'Yes, you are,' he said fiercely, but kept his voice low. 'Voldemort killed you.'

Lily, to her annoyance, flinched at the name. Luckily, haunting memories didn't follow – she'd had ten years to learn to safeguard her mind against the past.

'Who told you about...' Lily straightened stubbornly. 'Voldemort?'

'Hagrid,' Harry answered, taking another hesitant bite of his sandwich. 'Yesterday was my Birthday.' He said it like an accusation.

'I know.' Lily lowered her gaze, guilt spearing her heart. 'It should have been us – your father and I. We should have been there, telling you about magic and buying your school supplies. We should have baked your cakes, tucked you in at night, and kept you safe.'

Tears tried to spill, but she stayed strong. Her son could not remember this as the day his mother broke.

'What happened?' Harry asked quietly. 'Where were you? Where's Dad?'

Lily took a deep breath, and told him everything she could – which, in the grand scheme lasting over ten years, wasn't very much.

She explained that Voldemort killed James, but she'd survived with a potion that made her appear dead for years. When she woke, with the help of an old friend, she'd moved to Ireland. Lily trained to be a Healer, using her job at a magical hospital as practise blending in and keeping her real identity a secret. Most of Lily's memories of the years before Saint Mungo's were locked away, as she couldn't bear them or the consequences of her own actions.

'I thought of you every day, Harry. Every. Day.' Lily reached across the table, taking his small hands in hers. Making contact almost undid her emotions, but the marvel in his face kept her focused.

'I couldn't take care of you, not until now,' she continued. 'I will never forgive myself for letting you live how you have, but I swear – I promise, with everything I have, that we can be a family again. That's why you're coming to live with me now, so I can fix this and give you the love you deserve.'

'It's really you, isn't it?' he whispered, green eyes wide. 'M-Mum?'

He hurried around the table, nearly knocking it over, and leap into her awaiting arms. Lily hugged him tight, almost enough to squash her thin boy, as sobs broke free – she couldn't tell who cried the hardest.

After what felt like forever, yet no time at all, they parted and gathered Harry's belongings. They left the cafe, heading down the street to a bus stop.

They didn't speak until a bus arrived, and even then it was almost normal; Harry told her about Hagrid buying his owl and how amazing magic is, then asked about Hogwarts. The journey to Brighton was filled with chatter of ordinary mother and son things – albeit magical things. The pair earned bewildered stares from Muggles, while enthusing about Charms lessons and flying broomsticks.

Arriving at Brighton brought them back to reality. Lily glanced warily at the sunset, urging Harry to stay close.

The fear never went away.

'Here we are.' Lily smiled, walking ahead. The lush yard of the small house was fenced with stone, lacking a gate but not short on magical protection. 'It's not much but we'll at Hogwarts in a month, so it'll do.'

'Wow!' Harry grinned, admiring stone and ivy. 'I love it.'

Lily kept her back to him, not ready to face the truths of his earlier childhood. Anything was luxurious compared to a cupboard under the stairs.

She tapped her wand to the door and it swung open. Inside was nothing to boast of, just an ordinary house with ordinary walls and a modern kitchen despite the house's cracks and creaks.

'I'll give you a tour, but first there's something very important we need to discuss.' Lily placed his trunk by the kitchen, and opened the owl cage to allow Hedwig her freedom.

Harry smiled, watching his snowy owl fly through an open window.

'We have one month as mother and son,' Lily said sternly. 'Then we'll be Professor and student to the rest of the world. We'll get to see each other outside of class, and you can stay in my quarters from time to time, but we must be very careful. It's dangerous for me to be alive right now. I need you to trust me. It's asking a lot but-'

'I do trust you.' Harry nodded. 'I won't tell.'

'Good boy.' Lily smiled sadly. 'There's something else. James Potter, who loved us very much, is not biologically your father.'

'Who is?' Harry asked.

'Severus Snape,' she said. 'He doesn't know yet, about me or you - I'm going to need your help with that. But until he's ready, no one can know you're his son. He's also at Hogwarts; your father teaches Potions.'

'Won't he recognise you?'

Harry's question was simple, but shocked Lily so much she had to sit down. Covering her mouth, she took a moment to gather composure. Harry didn't realise his mother was wearing a magical disguise.

All those years, and he hadn't known what she looked like either.

'No,' Lily finally said. 'I...He won't. I'll explain later.'

'Did Severus...I mean, did Dad make the Potion that saved you?' Harry wondered.

'Yes.' She nodded, surprised. 'He did, but doesn't remember. And now he needs us to save him.'

Harry and Lily would never have enough time for ten years of missed cuddles, stories, and laughter. Despite only having that August together, they treasured each moment and made the most of it – hidden away in a sparsely-populated area of Brighton.

Lily's parental experience was limited to a year of raising a bouncy toddler, and struggled when adapting to an eleven-year-old who didn't know how to be someone's son.

Every night, for the first week, Lily locked herself in the bathroom – casting a silencing charm so Harry wasn't woken by her violent sobs. She allowed herself the grief and rage, being a single mother to a child who was abused and neglected in her absence, but only for that week. She'd had ten years to study, prepare, and adapt.

Lily wove a shell around her emotions, meticulously cautious and determined to stick to the plan.

Harry, to his credit and her concern, only needed two days to embrace his new life. Her shy and anxious boy struggled at first, but Lily demonstrated legendary patience and love with each step. They went to shows and festivals some nights, spent many sunny days at the beach not far from their house, and snuggled under blankets over weekends to read books or gorge home-made treats.

She tucked him in every night, kissing Harry's cheeks until he squealed with laughter and hid under his blankets – like he used to as a toddler. Lily read and explained his textbooks, as Harry pretended he was too old for bedtime stories. She monitored his handwriting, using every trick Severus taught her to master writing with a quill, and praised Harry's every improvement. She baked him a birthday cake and they had their own party, with a mountain of gifts even Dudley would be envious of – new clothes, a second cauldron, extra cloaks, practical toys, and a magical drawing kit. Harry's favourite was a stuffed bat with cloak-like wings, though Lily didn't reveal why she'd chosen it.

She was making up for ten years, but hoped she wasn't spoiling him. Lily incendio'ed his old clothes, and fixed his glasses, but it wasn't enough. Harry was overwhelmed easily and often recoiled on himself, with mannerisms reminiscent of Severus.

Their worst nights were shaken with his nightmares of her death or abandonment – Lily rarely slept afterwards. She retreated to the basement, where she'd set up a little lab to brew Harry's nutrition potions and healing balms.

'What's that?' Harry wandered downstairs on the first day of September.

He'd stayed away all month, knowing he wasn't allowed in the lab without her. Not once had she needed to punish or scold him. It bothered Lily how cautiously obedient and often non-childlike Harry was.

'This will correct your eyesight,' Lily answered, pouring blue potion into a small vial. 'Needing glasses was a result of a spell, not something you were born with.'

'Oh.' Harry leaned closer, staring eagerly at the mess of chopped ingredients and jars of herbs. 'Can I still wear them? Just sometimes, until I get used to it?'

'Of course.' Lily smiled, gesturing him over. 'Lean back, look at the ceiling. Try not to blink.'

'Will it hurt?' He hesitated, reminding her they still had a long way to go.

He loved and forgave her beyond what Lily deserved, but Harry was no longer the toddler who flung himself off a bed knowing she'd catch him.

'It'll sting a little.' Lily gently brushed his unruly hair aside. She stared at the bolt-shaped scar, then dripped potion into each his eyes. There wasn't time to find an eye-dropper.

Harry barely flinched. He closed his eyes afterwards, as instructed, and waited for the potion to work. Lily spelled his lens into regular glass, no longer a necessity for him to see, and smiled at his amazement.

'It's so clear!' he gasped.

One month lasted forever...Until it ended.

Lily cast cleaning charms through the basement, unsure how much brewing she could afford at Hogwarts. She'd be back in a week to sort the house out, but not if she didn't get her son to King's Cross on time. Harry ran to get his trunk and owl.

Excitement and anxiety beamed from the boy as they left the house.

Lily raised her wand, then checked herself in a conjured mirror - trying to shake her own nerves. She'd adjusted her disguise so Harry would always see her as she'd been - red hair, emerald eyes to match his, and a smear of freckles she denied having. He'd carefully cupped her face that day, taking in every detail, as if finally recognising her completely. However, her reflection remained masked with black hair and hazel eyes. She recognised herself as Ellen Aster now, so much that “Lily Evans” was an echo of a stranger.

Too much had happened since that night in Godric's Hollow.

Harry jumped when the Knight Bus swerved around a corner, and Lily placed a protective arm across his shoulders. The violet, triple-decker bus screeched to a halt. Stan barely said a word before she'd hurried Harry into the bus.

King's Cross was a place she'd often sought over the years; it was as familiar to Lily now as it'd been when she'd graduated Hogwarts. Harry didn't have time to take it in, as they rushed around Muggles while the clock neared eleven. Harry pushed his trolley continuously, knowing what to do.

They entered the magical platform together, almost crashing into a group of redheads.

'I'm terribly sorry!' Lily yelled over her shoulder.

'When will I see you again?' Harry's sad eyes almost threw her cover and plans into the wind.

'At the feast.' She put his trunk and owl cage into the luggage compartment. 'After your first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, stay behind. Bring your class schedule.'

'Okay.' He sighed miserably. 'And what if I'm in...? Er - never mind.'

The Hogwarts Express whistled loudly, cutting her chance to prompt Harry. She nudged him onto the train, resisting a hug as it was too risky, and waved him off. With a heavy sigh, Lily sought the shorter woman she'd bumped into.

'I hope I wasn't too rude earlier.' She smiled at Molly Weasley.

Heart beating fast in her chest, Lily hadn't expected such a reaction to seeing someone she knew from before. Whispers of her old self emerged, as Lily fondly considered friends and loved ones she could meet a second time. She hadn't known Molly or Arthur well, but always liked them very much.

Didn't they have a son Harry's age?

'Not to worry, dear,' Molly said reassuringly, arm around her daughter. 'We were in quite the rush ourselves. Did your boy oversleep as well?'

'Oh, no – he's not my son.' Lily hated those necessary words. 'I'm a Professor. Thought I'd catch a glimpse of the train for old time's sake. He was by himself. I was just making sure he made it on board.'

While Molly apologised for her assumption, Lily had the distinct feeling the woman wasn't entirely convinced. The ability to recognise another parent was one of those things she couldn't plan for.

~ PP ~ 

Apparating to Hogsmeade, Lily fastened her sapphire robes and tucked an aged letter into a deep pocket.

She'd miss being a Healer, but had once considered teaching. Wandering the magical village, Lily forced herself to focus. Her interview for the position as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, conducted by Dumbledore three months prior, was shorter than expected. He'd asked a few general questions, then congratulated her and offered schedules.

At least the position wasn't jinxed.

Lily was in awe as she strolled onto Hogwarts grounds. She'd left as a student, and now returned as a Professor.

A foreign bubble of excitement flushed through her, knowing everything beyond those gates were familiar and predictable. Many Professors who taught her were still there. Lily wondered what Severus was like as a teacher, knowing of his patience and keen observation, but was curious why he taught Potions. Surely he'd prefer the Defence Against the Dark Arts position?

Her new home was located within the serpentine corridor on the third floor. She walked the tower as professionally as she could, secretly giddy when portraits glanced or waved at her. The tapestries, ghosts, tall windows, and scent of something that could only be magical, basked her in memories she loved and missed. There were unpleasant ones too, but she shoved those behind mental barriers where they belonged.

Sparing her quarters a short glance, Lily would prepare the classroom later. Piling luggage at once side, she checked her watch. The staffroom was conveniently right around the corner of the DADA classroom.

She hesitated.

Rather foolishly, given how carefully she'd planned everything else, Lily suddenly realised who was on the other side of the door. Scolding herself, as she'd faced much worst than overdue reunions with former friends, Lily entered the staffroom.

'I hardly think that's necessary,' Severus was saying, head turned to converse with Minerva. He was easily the darkest figure in the room.'The prefects are more than capable of handling it.'

'Ah, there she is.' Dumbledore smiled, seated at the head of the table.

'Oh.' Lily blushed, as all eyes turned to her.

Severus' glance was brief, as if he wasn't entirely sure why he was even called to the meeting. Lily, hiding her disappointment, glanced at familiar and new faces.

'Allow me to formally introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor,' Dumbledore announced, 'Ms Ellen Aster.'

Lily watched Severus for any reaction to her name, but none showed. He looked older – of course, he was older since she last saw him, but not just in the face. His hair was worst than she remembered, but robes impeccable and concealing. His face was restrained and neutral, a mask he'd perfected well beyond her own.

Severus wasn't going to be as approachable as she'd hoped; Lily knew a closed-off heart when she saw one.

'Would you like to say a few words?' Dumbledore asked.

'No.' Lily shook her head. 'I'm a private person who'd rather the past remain where it is. I was a Healer, specialising in combating dark magic and creatures. I'm up to the task assigned to me, and that's really all anyone needs to know.'

'Well said. And Welcome, Professor Aster,' Minerva smiled, rising to shake her hand. 'I dare say you have your work cut out for you.'

'I do?' Lily anxiously sat, as amusement spread through the room.

'I believe Professor McGonagall is referring to the Weasley twins.' Severus rolled his eyes.

'Indeed. They caused quite a bother for old Professor Marigold, who you're replacing,' Minerva said. 'He was strong of heart, but not so sound mind by the end of his eight years here.'

'What sort of bother?' Lily asked, intrigued.

Learning the third year twins were known for their pranks and rule-breaking, she hid a smirk in remembrance of the Marauders doing exactly the same. James and Sirius would have loved to meet the Weasley pair. At the glare on Severus' face, Lily knew she wasn't the only one who thought so.

The meeting wasn't as informative as Lily hoped, but she had enough knowledge and experience of Hogwarts to settle into her new job with minimal fuss. She tried not to glance at Severus more than reasonable, but had a sense of being watched.

'This year will be quite the occasion,' Dumbledore said, 'as Harry Potter will be joining us for his first year at Hogwarts.'

Whispers scattered and eyebrows rose, but Lily couldn't hold her tongue. She also didn't miss the not-so-subtle look Dumbledore shot Severus.

'I'm sorry, but I don't understand why that's noteworthy,' Lily said, earning Severus' rapt interest. 'Harry Potter, famous or not, is a child and student like any other. Are we expected to cater to him or make the boy feel more of an outsider than he probably already does?'

'Not at all, Professor.' Dumbledore smiled kindly. 'But we must be attentive of potential dangers to the Boy-Who-Lived, should they arise. I believe that's your area of expertise?'

Lily didn't like it.

'If we're being technical, my area of expertise is healing those injured by advanced curses or potions accidents.' Lily kept her voice polite and expression curious. 'The latter of which the boy is more likely to be exposed to.'

'I can confirm this.' Severus sighed. 'Unfortunately, most students who set foot in my classroom are a bunch of dunderheads.'

That's not what Lily meant, but she let it slide. Dumbledore didn't open discussion on the subject, and moved on to other matters. Lily had no intention to read little else into Harry's safety, knowing how painfully true Dumbledore's warning was. She just wanted her boy to be a normal wizard making friends and learning magic.

The Sorting Ceremony was in six hours. In her exhaustive efforts to prepare her son for Hogwarts, she'd forgotten to inform Harry of the Hogwarts houses. He knew the basics, but Lily hoped no one mentioned Slytherin's ill-deserved reputation as the “bad house”.

She'd seen first-hand the damage house bias and rivalry can cause.

Filch approached Dumbledore with a renewed list of objects to be banned, which was when most Professors and staff rose to leave. Lily, distracted by Hagrid's warm welcomes, missed her chance to speak with Severus – who was the first out the door. She watched him stride off, admiring the way his cloak billowed around him. No one knew the extensive practise he'd put into that skill, which hadn't started nearly as graceful or effective as he'd finally perfected it to be.

She smirked, fondly aware he believed there was no one left who knew his secret.

However, having only arrived at Hogwarts a short time ago, Lily could already see she had no easy task ahead of her. She cherished times once spent with Severus, but Lily didn't know where they'd stand now. It had been years; they weren't young or naïve anymore. Things could get messy if she didn't take necessary precautions. And yet, he would always be the father of her child.

Every ounce of goodness in Severus shined through Harry and, for that reason alone, Lily gave him the benefit of a fresh beginning.

Night fell and students gathered in the Great Hall. Lily, used to solidarity and quiet villages, was confronted with the noise and size of the castle she was once accustomed to. Dressed in black robes and a vibrantly blue cloak, she apprehensively approached the staff table. She passed Hagrid delightfully telling Pamona that he'd taken Harry to get his school supplies, and how much the boy reminded him of the Potters.

She smiled fondly at Hagrid, making her way to Severus.

He didn't acknowledge her as Lily sat down, but she'd known him long enough to sense he was nervous. It confused her, and she ignored a paranoid urge to check her appearance. He didn't know, Lily reminded herself.

Distracted with her own mind, Lily didn't catch herself in time - and flinched when Madam Hooch sat beside her. Engrossed in a discussion of Quidditch strategies with Filius, Hooch didn't notice what Severus had. He glanced at her, but Lily aimed her gaze at the table.

Lily and Severus watched as Minerva entered the hall with a trailing group of first years. She easily spotted Harry, whose head tilted back to stare at the enchanted ceiling above. She was pleased to see the youngest Weasley boy had befriended her son. Severus gripped his fork, then tucked hands under the table to hide them.

His obsidian gaze remained on Harry, as if nothing else mattered.

The Sorting Ceremony began. Lily tried to appear detached but, though they both hid it well, Harry and Severus were far from calm. Harry glanced to his father and offered the bewildered man a wide smile. Lily groaned inwardly; her son was not an especially subtle boy.

'Harry Potter!'

In fear of the moment, Harry's wide eyes found her. Lily gave a discreet nod of encouragement, and watched her son approach the stool. Tension spread like fiendfyre. She hadn't figured out how to reinstate his real birth certificate, bearing the name “Harry Severus Evans”, without revealing far too much.

Silence continued, as if the entire Great Hall held its breath.

Severus had a long sorting too. Harry was cunning and resourceful – Lily expected him to be placed in Slytherin as his father had before him.

'GRYFFINDOR!' shouted the hat.

With a grin and whoop of relief, Harry hopped off the stool and ran to the cheering table.

Lily, surprised but proud, joined the loud applause. Severus scowled, slumping his shoulders in defeat before correcting his posture in reflex. Harry sat across from who Lily assumed to be the Weasley twins – and a pang of wariness shot through her. James and Sirius adored Harry and wanted to teach him the ways of a Marauder. With Harry happily seated by the Weasley equivalents, Lily wasn't sure how she felt.

When the ceremony ended and Dumbledore gave his speech, food magically appeared. Lily sighed; the topic of house-elves enslaved to serve them was something she and James fought strongly over during their later years at Hogwarts. Even so, Remus was not the best cook so Lily couldn't feel too guilty about enjoying the welcoming feast. She checked Harry remembered to serve himself as much as he wanted, then glanced at Severus.

This was her chance.

'Severus, right?' she asked, waiting for his curt nod. 'Does it get easier, sitting up here instead of down there?' Lily indicated to the students.

'It does.' He regarded her curiously. 'Have we met?'

'You don't seem the sort of person to forget a face.' Lily smiled, heart pounding in her chest. 'But yes, we have. I was rather different back then; easily confused for someone else.'

'Furthermore forgettable by the glamour you wear?' Severus didn't miss a beat. 'I presume there's a reason,' he said, casually cutting chicken while Lily scrambled to hide her shock.

Severus was so calm she wanted to jab him with her fork.

'You noticed.' Lily frowned at her plate.

'I was rather impressed by the delicate strand of magic you used, quite unlike most glamours.' He glanced at her. 'Not the least bit obvious, I can assure you.'

'And yet, you noticed.' She repeated, feeling exposed. 'For that I'll grant you an explanation, if you agree to keep this between us?'

Lily didn't ask how he knew, not wanting to tempt his memories. She was glad Hooch and the other staff obliviously chatted among themselves. It'd be shameful to have her secrets revealed as early as her first night.

'Very well.' Severus nodded, watching her carefully.

She knew what he was trying to do, and appropriately avoided eye contact.

'I needed a fresh start,' Lily said, with as much truth as she could allow. 'I was trapped by the things I've seen and done. Grief and remorse can become a person. I couldn't be a Healer or Professor as the person I was. As far as the world knows, that woman is dead.'

'And Ellen Aster?' Severus averted his gaze.

'As Potions Master, I'm surprised you haven't figured that out. I'm not going to explain it.' Lily smirked, reclaiming the upper-hand. She sipped her goblet, watching Harry ogle Nearly-Headless Nick. 'He has his mother's eyes, have you noticed?'

His gaze jerked to her, then trailed to Harry. Lily, with forced casualness, resumed eating.

'Still a Potter,' he muttered. Severus glared at their son nodding animately at something the Weasley twins said.

Lily lost her appetite. She believed fiercely in his kindness, but Severus' life and choices made him bitter. Harry, in Gryffindor and befriending trouble-makers, would likely be ill-received by the Head of Slytherin. She'd overlooked Harry's assumed resemblance to James, having underestimated how deeply Severus still hated the man.

Lily did indeed have her work cut out for her. 

Harry felt he was happy enough to conjure a hundred Patronuses.

Dressing in a rush, he buttoned his shirt and slipped on his new Gryffindor vest. Fussing with his tie, Harry clumsily grabbed his robes. He'd gotten used to Lily reading from a textbook each night, and had to put away his Potions book (which he'd previously fallen asleep with) before running to catch up with Ron – his first real friend.

After the best month of his life, Harry could hardly believe Hogwarts was just as amazing. He couldn't sit with his mum during meals or be tucked into bed by her at night, but Lily was still there. Every morning and night, he could look over at his mother and know she wasn't dead. She'd come back for him. It filled his heart with more love and hope than Harry knew existed.

And then there was his father. Harry tried to greet him during the Sorting Ceremony, and again throughout the following week, but hadn't received much response. Lily mentioned Severus might take time to get used to and probably won't be very sociable.

Harry was just eager to properly meet and get to know his dad, regardless of required secrecy or the whispers he'd overheard in the Gryffindor common room.

He was a boy shoved and locked into a cupboard without food or comfort. Then Hagrid showed up and revealed that magic was real, correcting lies told by the Dursleys. The “freaky” orphan now has a home where his parents taught magic. He had his own bed, belongings, and even friends. He had a mum and a dad at this new place of warmth and wonder – something he'd reminded himself of at least a dozen times since the train ride.

Harry was almost convinced Uncle Vernon had killed him and this was Heaven.

He was so excited, Harry didn't care he'd shown up late to Transfiguration on his first day. Until he passed his mum in the corridor and realised something else emerged from his new situation; he had someone to disappoint.

Lily hadn't been angry with him all month, not properly, and Harry knew he couldn't risk that happening or else she'd change her mind. If he did something wrong, as he had an unfair tendency to do, then the dream would end.

She also needed his help with his dad, though they hadn't discussed how yet – what if Severus was disappointed too?

'Harry?' Ron waved a hand in his face, startling him. 'You all right?'

'I'm fine, Ron.' Harry nodded, finishing his breakfast. 'Just looking forward to Potions.'

'Why?' His friend grimaced. 'Fred said Professor Snape is nasty, always taking points from Gryffindors and giving detentions to scrub cauldrons for hours.'

Harry couldn't explain. He'd memorised his schedule, counting down each day then hour until his first Potions lesson. His first DADA class would be later that same afternoon. Wednesday was his favourite and it'd barely begun.

The bell rang and Harry flew from his seat. Ron shook his head, amused as Harry rushed from the Great Hall. He had a vague idea where to go, as Lily gave Harry tips for navigating Hogwarts, but had to slow so Ron wasn't left behind.

Harry moved through the cold, dungeon classroom. He sat somewhere in the middle with heavy relief, getting out his book and quill to prepare.

A potion, brewed by his father, brought his mother back – it was on Harry's mind a lot. He knew it was called the “Draught of Living Death” and was already complicated to make on its own, without modifications.

His parents were good at Potions; Harry hoped he had a fair chance at doing well in the class. His textbook was mostly instructions, but Lily bought extra Potions books that Harry had already read through twice. He was anxious to brew his first potion, wishing his mum let him practise in her lab.

The door banged open; Harry nearly spilled his ink in fright.

Dipping his quill and poising it over a page, Harry's gaze darted to his father. Severus marched in with such authority and strength Harry was envious of; no one would dare bully or ignore someone like that. It was hard to believe they were related.

'You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,' Severus said. 'I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper on death.'

Harry grinned, steadying his handwriting as he took notes. Hermione nudged him, and he looked over to see his dad glaring at him.

Quickly setting his quill aside, Harry waited to hear what happened next.

'Ah, yes,' Severus said. 'Harry Potter. Our new celebrity.'

Harry frowned, wondering if that's the sourness his mum warned about. Severus must be having a rough day or something, and that's why he'd heard Gryffindors complain a lot. He didn't like it, but reminded himself his dad didn't know him yet – maybe it would be different for them, as if the man would just know Harry's his son. He refused to acknowledge that Petunia, who managed to hate everything about Harry, was also a blood relative.

He had to believe his mum knew Severus Snape better than anyone else.

'Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?' Severus fixed him with a stern look.

Harry blinked at the question, trying to remember if that was ever mentioned in his books.

Hermione's hand shot into the air, almost knocking his glasses askew.

'I don't know, sir,' Harry said.

'Clearly, fame isn't everything,' Severus sneered. 'Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?'

'Oh!' Harry grinned with relief, understanding Hermione's eagerness. 'That's a stone from a goat's stomach, sir.'

'Yes, indeed.' Severus' eyes narrowed. 'And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?'

'Only the names,' Harry answered, straightening. 'They're the same plant, sir. Also called aconite, I think.'

'You think?' Severus challenged.

'Yes.' Harry nodded confidently. 'Its aconite.'

'Interesting.' He eyed Harry carefully, then begun the lesson without further comment.

'Sorry, Hermione,' Harry whispered, as she lowered her hand. 'Maybe he'll ask you next time?'

Harry thoroughly read the instructions twice. He carefully gathered ingredients, afraid to get even the smallest detail wrong. He could feel his dad watching him, but resisted looking over his shoulder. Harry arranged each ingredient in order of use.

He re-read the first step and steadied his hands.

'Snake fangs,' Harry whispered, counting six into his mortar.

Meanwhile, Severus swept around the room – only Draco Malfoy was safe from the Professor’s criticism. He seemed to ignore Harry completely, but the boy knew that wasn't true. He allowed a brief pause to memorise the soothing and direct sound of his father's voice.

His parents were no longer an undefined part of Harry's imagination.

By the time he added horned slugs to his potion, green smoke issued from what was left of Seamus' cauldron. Having noticed Neville's anxiety, Harry reacted fast enough to yank the other boy's robes. Neville mumbled his thanks, relieved to be saved from harm.

Jerking his own hand away from the hissing blob, Harry flinched when Severus appeared in front of their desk.

'Idiot boy!' Severus snapped at Neville, waving his wand to vanish the mess. 'I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?'

He then rounded on Harry and Ron.

'I'm sorry!' Harry yelped instinctively. 'I didn't know fast enough.'

'Then perhaps a point from Gryffindor will remind you to pay attention,' Severus said.

Harry ducked his head, reeling in anger. He nodded forcefully and resumed his work. Squinting when his glasses fogged up, Harry slipped them into his robes pocket. He had to get used to not wearing them.

'Don't you need those?' Ron asked quietly, as their Professor lingered nearby like a swooping menace.

'No,' Harry said, distracted. 'My eyes were fixed with a potion. I just like wearing them sometimes.'

He made sure to not repeat Neville's mistake when adding his own porcupine quills. Stirring, Harry couldn't help but smile; his potion was the exact colour and consistency the textbook said it should be.

Sampling some to be graded, Harry peered closely at the stoppered vial. It was his first potion and he hadn't messed it up. He wished he could keep some to show his mum, but hoped she'd believe he did well.

Looking to his dad for approval, Harry was surprised by the intense stare as if Severus realised something important. His heart quickened at the thought, but Harry squashed down hope.

'I'm finished, sir.' Harry carefully placed his vial on the Professor's desk. 'And I wondered if I might ask you something?'

'Go on.' Severus nodded.

'Well, I was wondering...' Harry hesitated, making sure to meet his father's gaze. 'What would you get by adding powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'

'A sleeping potion so powerful it's known as the Draught of Living Death,' Severus answered, an odd expression passing over his face.

'Oh.' Harry's eyes widened. 'And...It's a hard potion to make, isn't it? I mean, we wouldn't make that in class – would we?'

'Not until sixth year, should anyone in this room receive grades high enough to enter my NEWT class.' Severus narrowed eyes at him, lacking anger this time. 'What's your interest in such a potion, Potter?'

'Oh, nothing.' Harry blushed, looking away. 'It just sounds really interesting. Um, I better clean up. Thanks, sir.'

He hurried back to his desk, clearing away the mess he'd made and returned any unused ingredients. Harry tried to ignore the look Ron kept shooting him. When the bell rang, Harry gathered his books but didn't leave.

His dad continued watching him.

Harry turned slowly, taking in as much of the room as he could see. There were countless jars of slimy things, shelves of equipment and stored ingredients, and piles of spare cauldrons. He wanted to spend more time there, wishing he could ask without giving away the truth. Potions gave him a family, but were much more interesting than he'd anticipated.

Harry doubted anyone would want him hanging around a lot though - not even his dad. He'd been careful to give his mum plenty of space so she wouldn't get sick of him.

'Potter!' Severus snapped. 'Quit dawdling. Class is dismissed.'

'Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.' Harry grinned widely at his father, who looked rather disturbed by the expressed happiness. 'Thank you.'

With a parting glance, Harry dashed from the dungeons to make his way upstairs. His first lesson with his dad went well, and he was just as excited to find out what Defence Against the Dark Arts would to be like. 

The classroom was bigger than Harry expected. The bell hadn't rung yet; he was the only student there, impatient to get started.

'Good afternoon, Professor,' Harry said, well-practised not to slip up with “Mum”.

'And to you, Mr Potter.' Lily smiled warmly, shuffling papers at her desk. 'Shouldn't you be at lunch?'

'I left early.' He winced at her motherly frown. 'I ate a sandwich and an apple.'

'Good boy.' Lily nodded. 'Help me set up?'

'Okay.' Harry put his books on a desk, dropping his bag by the chair. 'I had Potions this morning with Da...I mean, with Professor Snape. It was fun.'

'Fun?' She stared, passing him papers for each desk. 'That's not what I've heard.' Lily frowned with deep disapproval, but kept her gaze elsewhere so Harry knew it wasn't aimed at him.

'He was in a bad mood.' Harry shrugged, confidence slipping. 'But I liked making the potion. We brewed a cure of boils! Mine was exactly like the one in my book.'

'That's...' Lily paused, glancing at Hermione as the girl entered. 'Very interesting, Mr Potter. I'm glad you're settling in well.'

Harry sat at his desk, considering taking notes but didn't want to be accused of not paying attention again.

Lily was dressed in a blue cloak over black robes, which suited her better than a plain shirt and jeans. Having lived as a freak with the Dursleys, it was nice to be undeniably reminded that his parents did magic too.

'There you are,' Ron said, sitting beside him. 'I can't believe you got here before Hermione.'

'Professor Aster is going to teach us how to fight dark magic,' Harry said. 'Isn't that brilliant?'

'I guess.' Ron frowned. 'But she'll still give us homework. Loads of it, I bet. Percy's already going on about his OWLs and term's barely started.'

Harry closed his textbook, staring at the cover. Cheeks heated in embarrassment, he realised it wasn't normal to be excited for classes. Harry didn't even know magic existed until a month ago, and wanted to learn as much as he could, but he was being extra freaky about it. He should've waited in the Great Hall with Ron and everyone else.

Lily went over the roll, looking at each student who answered. Thankfully, she didn't pause at Harry's name like others had.

'Welcome, first years,' she said, 'to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Today we'll be discussing basic protections and defensive strategies. Who can tell me the three core categories of spells, and how they're different from each other?'

Hermione's hand shot into the air.

Harry took notes anyway. His dad brewed potions that saved lives and his mum fought bad forces that tried to take lives. If he could learn even a little of what they knew, Harry wouldn't be scared all the time. He could finally protect himself from those bigger and stronger than himself.

'A difficult obstacle doesn't always require an equally difficult solution,' Lily said. 'For example, who knows which presently simplistic and widely common charm wasn't even invented until the 18th century?'

Her hazel eyes, though emerald to Harry, swept around the room.

Harry glanced at Hermione's hoisted hand, and guiltily raised his own. She'd answered questions in each their classes so far, and he'd enjoyed knowing the right answer in Potions.

'Mr Potter?' Lily smiled and nodded encouragingly.

'Er – the Wand-Lighting Charm,' Harry said, remembering her emphasis on it while reading textbooks to him.

'That's correct. Five points to Gryffindor.' Lily nodded, leaning to sit on her desk. 'Light and darkness are both simple and complex. Their magics are no exception. The Dart Arts are ever-changing and unpredictable, and to combat them you must be equally so.'

Harry glanced longingly at his quill, ears intent on memorising every detail. He smiled, noticing the class was stilled and attentive; Lily received equal manner of focus as Professors Snape and McGonagall.

'Now, each of you have a scenario written in front of you.' Lily indicated to their desks. 'Your assignment for this lesson is to fill out the questionnaire regarding that scenario. Afterwards, we will practise wand safety and defensive manoeuvres. Any questions?'

'Bloody hell,' Ron muttered, reading his scenario. 'Why'd it have to be spiders?'

Harry sympathetically pat his friend's shoulder, and overturned his own paper. His glasses remained forgotten in his robes pocket. 

Scenario: You're in a forest, being chased by an angry beast who thinks you've threatened her young. 

Context: You'd accidentally walked too close to the well-hidden den, but caused no harm to the young. You have no friends or allies with you. 

Harry read over the questionnaire and started writing, imagining he was being chased by either Dudley or Ripper. He knew better than to attempt to fight or defend himself, choosing options to hide in a tree or confuse the beast.

'How do you know everything?' Ron glanced enviously at Harry's lengthy answers.

'I don't,' Harry said, hesitating. 'It's mostly luck. And I read books. Nothing special, I promise.'

He waited until Hermione and a few Ravenclaws handed in their papers before adding his own. Harry tried not to fidget, as Lily read through the results and picked a few to comment on.

'I'm most impressed with the detail against your Devil's Snare, Mr Longbottom. I'm sure Professor Sprout would be as well.' Lily smiled at the shocked boy. 'You've quite the aptitude for Herbology, like your mother.'

Harry turned properly to see Neville's eyes become misty. He'd heard of the Longbottoms in August, when Lily talked during dinner about how fun Hogwarts was. Frank and Alice were in Saint Mungo's, which is why Lily fought so hard to work there as a Healer. She promised to introduce Harry to them one day, but he'd forgotten Neville. Harry shared his dormitory with him, just as Lily had shared hers with Alice.

'When faced with a creature, many of you chose to fight,' Lily said, glancing over papers. 'There's no shame in running away. Cowardice and foregoing recklessness are not the same thing. Mr Potter recognised this, well done. And Mr Weasley, your strategy would have certainly worked.'

Harry and Ron shared proud relief, which lasted through the rest of the lesson. Harry initially thought Lily favoured Gryffindors, as Severus did Slytherins, but she deliberately found strengths in everyone – even Malfoy, who'd grimaced at the concept of Muggle fighting sometimes being more effective than fancy wand-work.

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder, lingering as he'd done in Potions. He waved Ron off, politely telling his friend not to wait.

'Just like at Saint Mungo's, if you ever have questions – my door is open,' Lily said kindly to Neville. 'I knew your parents well during our time at Hogwarts, especially your mother. They'd be very proud of you.'

'Thank you,' Neville said quietly, a look of awe on his face. He left the classroom, hugging a photograph to his chest.

Lily led Harry up the stairs to her office. There were empty tanks and covered cages to one side of the desk, and two softly blue armchairs around a small table to the other – by a tall window with scarlet drapes spread open.

She waved her wand; the door shut and Harry's skin tingled. 'Privacy charms,' she explained, offering tea as they sat across each other. 'Now, tell me all about your first week.'

Harry stayed the entire afternoon. The visit was dampened by nutrient potions she made him drink and then the subject of his sorting.

'And what were they?' Lily asked, with a strange expression similar to the one Severus gave him when mentioning the Draught of Living Death.

'Asphodel. Wormwood. Bezoar. Monkshood. Wolfsbane,' Harry recited, numbering them off with his fingers. 'Oh, and Aconite. But that was mine.'

'I see.' Lily glanced at her lap, but didn't explain.

Harry sensed there was more to his dad's test than initially understood.

He spared no detail about his Potions class, and forgot he wasn't used to sharing thoughts and fears with an adult. So when Lily asked why the Sorting Hat took such a long time to decide his house, Harry spilled everything but his tea.

'Then it put me in Gryffindor instead,' he finished, leaning back in the armchair.

Lily was very quiet.

Harry glanced at the orange sunset, shifting uncomfortably until he couldn't avoid her stern gaze any longer. And there it was, as fierce and undeniable as he'd feared – disappointment.

'Harry, this is exactly what creates and feeds unhealthy house rivalry,' Lily admonished. 'Your father, as you well know, is a Slytherin. Years ago, he showed me a particular form of bravery I've not known any Gryffindor to have – and you exist from that bravery.'

Harry ducked his head, wishing she'd yell at him instead. Disappointment wasn't a slap to the face, but a heaviness making him regret every thought and action that possibly led to it. Her words burned his happy memory of being sorted into Gryffindor, as Harry realised he'd made a judgemental mistake.

'So the hat was right; I should be in Slytherin?' he mumbled miserably, flinching back as she walked to crouch in front of him.

'If you don't also belong in Gryffindor, the hat wouldn't have placed you there.' Lily rested a hand on his. 'You are my son and I'm proud you're in Gryffindor too, but never forget that you're also your father's son. A Slytherin can be just as loyal and brave and true, as any member of the four houses. He was my best friend.'

Lily handed him a photograph. Staring at it, Harry wanted to bury his shame under layers of blankets. Lily and Severus were about his age, laughing together in the Hogwarts library, stacks of books to either side like walls of a fort. It was a magical photo, so they moved and smiled – capturing a moment when his parents were just students like him.

Harry wanted to ask questions, but couldn't find the words.

He should've known better; the Dursleys told their neighbours how naughty and horrible Harry was so no one would talk to him or believe anything he said. Had Severus endured the same ill-reputation when he was a student; did people believe he was bad for being sorted into Slytherin? Lily hadn't - the evidence was in his hands

He couldn't be mad at Ron, as his friend hadn't known, but Harry wouldn't make that mistake again. No one stood up for him at Privet Drive. Malfoy was rude and reminded him of Dudley, but Harry wanted to show his mum he understood. Lily complimented Draco on his loyalty and determination during the scenario task; even Malfoy wasn't all bad.

Harry wanted to teach people the truth – and show his dad he believed in him, not the lies. If he was as much a Slytherin as a Gryffindor, Harry needed to understand both sides of himself. As if knowing his thoughts and determination, Lilly smiled at her son.

'Good boy,' she said, standing. 'I'm proud of you, for having an open mind. You can keep the picture; I want you to have it. Now, it's getting late. I've copied your schedule and will sort out a room for you in my quarters. We'll have lunch here on Sunday.'

Harry nodded, surprised when she embraced him without any anger or disappointment. He exhaled relief, holding his mum tighter. She kissed his forehead, and waved him off.

As Harry left, Lily looked through the tall window at the sun-kissed castle beyond. She knew Severus better than anyone - testing Harry was only part of his intention. For a moment, in his own way, he'd reached out to the boy. No one was supposed to figure it out, not even Harry, but Lily spoke Severus' language.

'I bitterly regret Lily's death,' she deciphered quietly, sadness choking her heart. 'Oh, Severus. I should've known you'd blame yourself.'

Draco Malfoy was the last person Harry wanted to talk to, especially after the things he'd said about Ron, but Lily's words had gotten into his head and Harry couldn't shake them. He wondered, though doubted, if things might've been different if the hat had sorted him into Slytherin.

Harry sat in the Great Hall on Friday morning, glancing at the Slytherin table and considering the past few days. After DADA and Charms, his only concern was his midnight Astronomy lesson. He'd read his Potions books to pass the time, but ended up playing Chess with Ron to stay awake.

Thursday passed less eventfully, though Harry instantly loved having Herbology then Potions.

Friday was the first day with free time all afternoon, and Harry intended to put it to good use. Still thinking about house rivalries, and how there was a time his parents sat the same classes he did, Harry kept his head down through DADA. He took minimal notes, didn't raise his hand to answer questions, and focused on learning to light his wand.

It wasn't until after Transfiguration that he grabbed Ron's sleeve as they left the classroom.

'What?' Ron asked, letting Harry seclude them.

'I'm going to do something crazy tomorrow,' Harry said, 'if you're okay with it. Malfoy was a git to you, but I learned things about Slytherin that you...We were wrong about.'

'What things?' Ron frowned. 'What are you going to do?'

'I don't know yet – talk to Malfoy, probably.' Harry checked no one was eavesdropping. 'I'm going to the library after lunch. There's got to be proof that not all Slytherins are bad.'

'Why do you care?' He stared at Harry, but wasn't angry. 'And why Malfoy?'

'His whole family are in Slytherin. He's rude and a bully,' Harry said. 'I can't imagine there's anything nice about him, but that's why Malfoy. The ultimate test.' He shrugged, not entirely sure himself.

Draco offered his hand to Harry once, and he wanted to know why.

'I still don't get it.' Ron shook his head. 'You're not making sense, mate. Who cares if he is a git?'

'I can't explain it.' Harry grumbled, hating his secrets for the first time. 'It's personal. Someone in my family is Slytherin, and I...I almost got sorted there.'

'What?' Ron's eyes widened, voice dropping to a whisper. 'Is that why the hat took so long? But...Then why are you in Gryffindor?'

'Because I asked it to.' Harry smiled. 'Actually, I asked it not to put me in Slytherin. I think I'm both. Not really, but...I don't know, okay?'

Ron nodded, looking at the floor.

'You're not mad?' Harry's anxiety flared, hoping his admittance won't cost him his only friend.

Being in different houses hadn't bothered his parents - he hoped that wasn't unique to them. He'd observed other students in hallways, seeing a fair mixture of inter-house friendships. During daytime meals, teenagers often sat at different tables without getting in trouble or raising alarm.

However, Slytherin house appeared to stick close to their own.

'Mad? For what?' Ron frowned. 'I can't really picture you in Slytherin, to be honest, but...We'd still be friends, right? I wouldn't be happy about it, sure, but it's not your fault if the hat put you there.'

'Yeah.' Harry grinned. 'You're my best friend, Ron. I was worried...You know, if I was in Slytherin...'

'I'm not saying it'd be easy.' Ron shrugged. 'But you're still Harry. You're my best friend too.'

Harry, overcome with emotion, hugged Ron.

They walked to the Great Hall together, laughing away insecurities. Harry shared how he wanted to reach out to Malfoy, and maybe other Slytherins. He mentioned the Dursleys and how everyone thought Harry was bad too - that changed Ron's scepticism immediately.

'When are you going to do it?' Ron asked, sitting beside him at the Gryffindor table.

'At breakfast,' Harry said. He glanced at the staff table, smiling at his parents.

Lily and Severus chatted together, unaware of McGonagall's watchful amusement.

'We're still going to see Hagrid, right?'

'Yeah.' Harry nodded to Ron. 'You'll like him; he's brilliant.'

~ PP ~ 

The library was vacant and quiet; first years weren't the only ones with the most free time they'd had all week. Ron wasn't keen on reading indoors instead of enjoying the sunshine and grounds, but insisted on joining Harry in his task of researching Slytherins.

'May we sit here?' Harry asked, lowering a pile of books.

Hermione startled, looking at them as if surprised someone would speak to her. 'Of course!' she quickly shifted her books to make room.

'Thanks,' Harry said, sitting across from her. Ron frowned at the girl, then sighed and went to get more books.

'Er – what are you reading?' Harry asked, dividing his pile into two.

'Hogwarts: A History,' Hermione said brightly. 'Of course, I've already read it loads of times but it's fascinating. Can you believe this school was founded over a thousand years ago?'

'Is there anything in it about Slytherin?' Harry straightened.

Hermione nodded, eyes taking in the book-fort forming between them. Her lips moved silently as she read their titles, and leaned forward eagerly – but jumped back when Ron thumped heavy books over the table.

'Sorry.' He winced. 'They're bloody heavy.'

Harry nervously glanced around for Madam Pince.

Convinced they're safe, he told Hermione that they're looking for proof of good Slytherins or where house rivalries came from. When Ron asked if she wanted to help, Hermione grinned widely and launched into long summaries of everything she'd read about Salazar Slytherin.

When the three Gryffindors headed to dinner that night, Harry's mind ached with all the new information. He'd rather learn different potions and re-read his Herbology textbook for inspiration, but never wanted Lily to be disappointed in him again.

Harry had to make peace with Slytherin and show his dad he didn't think he was bad, despite how awful Severus could be sometimes. He didn't believe what everyone said, not without witnessing or experiencing it for himself; Harry wasn't making that mistake again.

'I think we'd still be stuck in that library, if not for Hermione,' Ron said, glancing to meet her smile. 'So, what now? Is it enough? Blimey, I was such an idiot though – thinking one house was more evil than the others.' His ears turned pink.

'I thought so too.' Harry shrugged. 'We weren't the only ones.'

'Why do you want to know the truth?' Hermione wondered. 'I mean, you never said why it's so important. Of course, not that we should think badly of someone just by where they're sorted...'

'It's a secret,' Harry said, raising Ron's interest. 'It's personal.'

That was the last they spoke of it.

Harry constantly looked at the Slytherins through dinner, and watched his parents bicker at the staff table. He considered great witches and wizards they'd read about; Slytherins who invented powerful healing draughts, advanced Quidditch or Ministry history, fought for the rights of muggle-borns or misunderstood creatures, and even helped those in need at great cost to themselves.

Harry, though happy in Gryffindor, knew he'd be just as proud in Slytherin.

However, knowing the truth was only helpful in theory.

He'd dreaded Saturday morning but was determined to see it through. Ron called him mad at least twice, but supported Harry's decision.

Standing at the doorway, Harry watched Ron and Hermione head to the Gryffindor table. He took a deep breath and steadied his nerves - fighting every instinct screaming how dangerous the plan was. Malfoy isn't Dudley, he reminded himself over and over, until his legs worked again.

Chilling silence enveloped the Slytherin table, as Harry Potter walked intently to it and sought out Draco.

'Good morning,' Harry managed to say. 'May I sit here?'

Draco's eyes were wide, his jaw open and no words coming out. He was so stunned that it was the girl beside Harry who answered.

'Why?' she asked.

'Why not?' Harry shrugged. 'The whole school seems to think Slytherin is bad, and it's wrong. I thought I'd sit here and get to know some of you better. You're in my class too, aren't you?' he asked the girl much bigger than himself.

'Yes.' She nodded, shyly tucking dark hair from her face. 'I'm Millicent Bulstrode. You can sit here – I mean, it's allowed.'

'Thanks. It's nice to meet you.' Harry smiled, trying not to laugh at Draco's dumbstruck stare. He sat, hoping he appeared calmer than he was – keeping his hands under the table until they stopped shaking.

Slytherins shifted to watch him - most confused and others suspicious. Harry ignored hurried whispers of tables behind him, uncomfortable with having his back to a mass of people. He was terrified and second-guessing his plan, but stubborn. Harry pictured young Severus in his mind, dressed in Slytherin robes and laughing with young Lily.

He ate scrambled eggs, forcing the food down, and tried to think of something to say.

'You're very good at Potions,' Millicent said, to his relief. 'Even Professor Snape seems to think so.'

Harry smiled.

He turned to look at the high table, nervously seeking his parents - they always sat together. Severus looked absolutely livid, his obsidian eyes narrowed with such suspicion that Harry was surprised he couldn't physically feel it.

Before he could retract his plan, Harry noticed Lily straining not to laugh at Severus' reaction. She pressed a hand to her mouth, but eyes gave her away. McGonagall had a similar expression, but Dumbledore's watchful gaze was unreadable – the twinkle in his gaze being the only indication of pleasant surprise.

'What are you playing at?' Draco's harsh voice startled Harry. 'Did you lose a bet or something, Potter?'

'No.' Harry clenched his fork. 'I just don't think Slytherins deserve the rumours that get passed around.'

'Why should we care?' Draco frowned.

'I care,' Millicent said softly, looking at her toast. 'A bit, I mean. It's not nice thinking everyone hates us.'

'Hates you, maybe.' Draco rolled his eyes. 'I'm proud to be in Slytherin.'

'I never said I wasn't proud!' Millicent growled, then gasped. 'Sorry.'

'It's okay,' Harry told her. 'Malfoy's being a git.'

'Then why'd you sit here?' Draco sighed dramatically. 'Did you really expect we'd have a laugh and discuss favourite Quidditch teams? You're even stupider than you look.'

'I didn't expect anything.' Harry glared. 'I just wanted to eat breakfast at a different table. What's wrong with that?'

'Nothing,' said an older Slytherin. 'Like the girl said, it's allowed.' He looked pointedly at Draco.

An unspoken agreement spread among Slytherins, as everyone returned to their meal and conversation.

Harry exhaled a slow breath, his appetite returning. Sipping pumpkin juice, he asked Millicent about classes she liked most. He laughed at her horror when he revealed Professor Snape was his favourite teacher. He hoped his mum wouldn't mind.

'And, just so you know,' Harry said, smirking at Draco. 'I don't have a favourite Quidditch team. Ron's big on the Chudley Canons, though.'

Draco snorted, but didn't comment. He glanced warily at the older boy, who kept shooting him stern looks.

The Slytherin table wasn't as bad as Harry feared, though he'd imagined being hexed off his seat and chased through the castle. It wasn't nearly as horrid as things Ron theorised might happen.

When breakfast ended, he thanked Millicent with genuine warmth. As if getting payback on Malfoy, Harry made sure to smile and wave at him too – further confusing the blond boy.

He stood to leave, barely turning when a voice stopped him.

'Potter,' Severus snarled, towering over Harry with arms tightly crossed. 'Was the Gryffindor table insufficiently up to your high standards or do you take pleasure in making a mockery of another?'

'No, sir.' Harry shook his head, forcing his face neutral.

'Explain yourself,' Severus said.

Harry panicked.

He knew what to say – how he intended to disprove bad things people said about Slytherins, and wanted his classmates to know someone believed in them. Severus hadn't realised any of this on his own; the glower on his dad's face demolished Harry's confidence and resolve.

'It's allowed,' Harry said, mimicking Severus' posture.

He hurried around the man, leaving the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione catching up.

'Did you see Malfoy's face?' Ron asked, as the trio broke down in laughter. 'Bloody hell, I wish I had a camera.'

'There you are.' Fred grinned, joining them in the common room. 'You're mad to have done it, but that was brilliant!'

'Er, thanks.' Harry relaxed. 'I mean, I wasn't trying to trick them or anything.'

'Whatever your reasons, it was amazing,' George added, tucking parchment into his robes. 'Did you see Snape? I thought he was going to burst a vein!'

Harry forced a smile and laugh, but was confused. He hadn't played a funny joke, just sat with another house to prove a point. Other Gryffindors laughed or gave harry thumbs up all morning, as if he'd done something remarkable.

'They'll get used to it,' Ron said later, as they made their way down to Hagrid's. 'It's not like they get it, you know?'

Harry nodded, knowing his friend was right but felt uneasy.

He was happy to visit Hagrid, though evaded questions and amusement over his actions at the Slytherin table. Ron changed the subject, which Harry appreciated. The boys talked about their first week - with Ron complaining about homework, and Harry eagerly detailing his love of Potions until Hagrid gave him an odd look.

It was late, when Harry should be sleeping, that he wondered on Hagrid's expression. Severus and Lily had given him similarly strange looks, as if all three of them noticed something new about Harry.

It didn't make sense to him, as Harry stared at the bathroom mirror in search of what they saw. His mother's eyes shone on his face, and black hair stuck up in every direction. He'd forgotten his glasses on the bedside table, wondering if they'd caused the confusion. It seemed a silly thing to be confused about, so Harry dismissed it.

'Do I look like him?' he whispered, examining his face from different angles. 'I've got black hair too.'

It was an hour before he finally collapsed into bed, yawning widely. Harry didn't read his Potions textbook that night, but his dreams were of nothing else.