1996

As soon as they had all Flooed back to the Burrow, Harry turned eagerly to Ron’s father. Mr. Weasley smiled warmly at him.

“Why don’t we remove the shield in your room and then you can have some privacy,” Mr. Weasley suggested and Harry nodded gratefully; he hadn’t wanted to ask the others for some time alone. He was after all the Weasleys’ house guest and Harry didn’t want to be rude.

Hermione looked like she wanted an invitation from Mr. Weasley as well. Harry figured she wanted to watch Ron's dad remove the stasis shield but since Harry didn’t want everyone crowding around, he turned away from Hermione, hoping she would understand and with ill-concealed excitement, Harry followed Ron’s dad quickly up the slightly crooked Weasley staircase to the room he was sharing with Ron, his parents’ Pensieve held firmly in his arms.

Hermione sagged slightly at the snub and even Ron seemed like he wished he could have followed Harry. Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly at Harry’s retreating back and then left the room quickly to tend to dinner. Ginny, still standing near the fireplace, watched Harry until he was out of sight and then with a small smile, suggested that her brother and Hermione join her for a walk outside.

Ginny didn’t want Harry to be interrupted and she knew Ron too well to simply leave her brother inside waiting for his best mate to share something Harry might not wish to share. And so, with a grumbling Ron and a fidgeting Hermione in tow, Ginny made her way outside into her family’s gnome-filled garden.

Harry and Mr. Weasley reached Ron’s door faster than Harry had expected to and he felt a familiar twinge of nerves in the pit of his stomach. Of course, he could hardly stand to wait any longer to see what was in the Pensieve, but the idea was a bit disconcerting all the same. The last time he had been inside a Pensieve had been in Snape’s private office and that experience alone made him slightly wary of another trip into a Pensieve.

Harry was worried too about what kind of memory he might see. His last glimpses of his parents and of his father in particular, had not been pleasant ones. In fact, even after Sirius and Remus had assured him that his father had in fact been a good man, Harry was not entirely convinced. But, he was even more worried about the blatant animosity he had witnessed between his mother and father. Of course, Ron and Hermione hadn’t always gotten along and yet Harry felt it quite likely that the quarrelsome pair would somehow manage to pair up…eventually anyway.

With that somehow comforting thought, Harry placed the heavy stone receptacle on Ron’s low bureau and then backed away, making room for Mr. Weasley, who stepped up to the Pensive, his wand drawn.

“Aufero Contego,” the older man commanded lightly as he ran the tip of his wand around the Pensieve’s hard rim. The same bluish haze lit the Pensieve’s round opening and then it flashed brighter than it had in Gringotts for a brief second before vanishing completely.

Mr. Weasley smiled again at Harry as he slid his wand up into his right sleeve. He clapped a warm hand on the young man’s shoulder briefly and quietly left the room, closing the door discreetly behind him.

Harry bit his lip, the nervousness almost overwhelming him before he gathered his considerable Gryffindor courage and thrust his head into the Pensieve. Harry felt the familiar icy falling sensation as he was hurled forward and then suddenly, he was standing in a brightly lit room, staring at a blank white wall.

Harry turned around and almost yelped in delight. The pretty red-haired woman leaning back in a bed with crisp white linens was most definitely his mother. And she was quite a few years older than she had been when Harry had last seen her in Snape’s Pensieve.

Harry took a few quick steps closer to his mother and wished more than anything that he could reach out and touch her. He wanted to ask her so many things. He wanted to hear her voice again. Harry sighed and tried to be content to watch as his mum lightly fingered one of the bright flowers sitting in a glass vase next to her bed.

Harry looked more carefully at his surroundings and realized he was in St. Mungo’s. His mother was obviously a patient here and Harry felt a jolt of pure joy when he spotted a small cradle next to his mother’s bed. Harry stepped closer to his mother’s side, looking down into the cradle. Lying under a tiny blue blanket was an even tinier baby, sucking sedately on a clenched fist.

Harry grinned as he watched his mum reach her hand toward the baby and gently stroke the shock of raven hair messily adorning her son’s head. Taking in the pleasant scene, Harry’s insides began to glow as he realized that it was probably only hours after he had been born, which of course meant his father should be around here somewhere. He looked around in anticipation, eager for a chance to see a happy interaction between his parents. He didn’t have to wait long.

James Potter strode in through the door to his mother’s room. Harry felt the same leap of joy as he restrained himself from reaching out toward his father. He turned with his dad as James walked over to Lily and baby Harry. Though his dad was smiling, he seemed almost sad and Harry felt a prickle of unease settle in his gut.

“How are you, Lily?” Harry’s dad asked when he reached mother and child.

Lily smiled up at James, her own smile completely happy, if maybe a little tired.

“We’re wonderful, James,” she assured him and James nodded as if to reassure himself that she was indeed okay. Harry relaxed a little. His father was worried about his mum that was all.

James looked down at Harry then and with an index finger, he lightly traced Harry’s little nose.

“He’s beautiful, Lily.” Lily laughed, and Harry grinned, enjoying the sound of his mother’s tinkling laugh.

“Don’t sound so surprised, James,” Lily said, her tone teasing.

James shrugged, and his mouth quirked playfully. “Well, just look who his father is.”

Harry blinked a bit in confusion. He’d never thought of his father as one who would indulge in self-deprecating humor, because even though his dad’s tone was light, it was obvious that he had been at least a little surprised that his son was ‘beautiful’, as he had put it. Harry shrugged it off though, figuring it must be a common reaction for new fathers to have about their babies.

Harry looked toward his mother again, waiting for her to reply, but she didn’t have a chance to respond further, as the door swung open a second time. Finding himself hoping it was Sirius, Harry swung around eagerly to look at the newcomer. His mouth fell open in shock as he watched his Potions Professor hurrying into the room.

For a wild moment, Harry thought Snape had somehow leapt into the Pensieve after him, as he had last year and Harry almost expected to be yanked out of the memory again, but Snape paid no attention to Harry and went straight toward Lily and James.

Snape, a much younger version of Snape, Harry now realized, stopped when he reached the side of the cradle and he gazed down at Lily in concern. “Are you all right?” he asked quickly and Harry stared at the trio in confusion. What was going on here? His parents were friends with Snape? After what he had seen last year, the memory unfolding in front of him made no sense at all.

“Of course, Sev,” his mother was saying in a quiet tone, one meant to soothe ragged nerves. What did Snape have to be nervous about anyway…and had his mother just called the dreaded Potions Master…Sev?

Harry’s confusion blossomed as he watched Snape squeeze Lily’s hand lightly and then Harry almost fell over as Severus Snape, the man who had made Harry’s life miserable for five long years, bent down and gently scooped baby Harry into his arms.

The expression in Snape’s eyes was one Harry had never even conceived the man to be capable of. But there it was in plain view for all to see. Snape’s eyes fairly shone with love.

What the hell was going on here? Harry took a step back, away from his mother’s hospital bed as if hoping the distance would help him gain some kind of understanding.

Harry continued to watch in something akin to horror, as Snape traced his younger self’s nose and lips with his thumb, in the same way James had and somehow Harry noticed that Snape's gesture was tender, whereas James’ had been simply curious. Harry shook his head, unsure of how he could even tell there had been a difference.

Snape suddenly looked up at Lily and though it was impossible, the love in his face grew for an instant before he leaned down and softly kissed Lily on the cheek.

Harry reeled at this, his mind spinning in a hundred different directions. Harry didn’t understand any of this. What was Snape doing here and why was he kissing his mum? And, what the hell was his father doing, just standing there? Harry wanted to stomp over and shake his father, to demand just what the bloody hell he thought he was doing, allowing that greasy git to manhandle his wife and son.

But of course, Harry couldn’t do anything but watch. So, he watched. Even as Snape turned to his dad and said quietly.

“Lily and I…we would like Harry’s middle name to be James...after you,”

‘Lily and I’? Harry’s brain finally caught up with his emotions as he watched his mum reach out and take Snape’s hand in hers and as he saw James Potter, at the foot of his mother’s bed, nodding at the little family, accepting their offer.

“No!” Harry cried frantically, stumbling back. “No!” he yelled again in panic and yanked himself from the memory, somehow ending the nightmare even though he had no idea how to do it. Harry felt himself rising through the air and found his feet suddenly plunking loudly on Ron’s threadbare carpet.

Harry began to tremble as he looked wildly about the room. No, he fumed silently. This couldn’t be. He wouldn’t believe it. Snape was not his father! No! No! No!

Suddenly filled with an unstoppable rage, Harry grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on and flung it viciously through the air at the opposite wall. Pig’s wooden cage, mercifully empty of Ron’s small owl, whipped through the air and splintered into a dozen pieces.

Completely unsatisfied, Harry picked up Hedwig’s cage from where it had been sitting peacefully next to Pigwidgeon’s, and swung it angrily at the same spot against the wall and it too, crashed into pieces and then fell next to its smaller counterpart on the floor.

Harry glared at the remains of the owls’ cages and tried desperately to get his breathing under control before any more of either his or Ron’s belongings became unwitting casualties to his anger. As he glared at the wall, Harry wished furiously that instead it was Snape’s ugly face and that the wooden splinters would have perhaps left some gashes in the sneering man’s cheeks.

Then as another surge of blinding fury welled up in him, this time at the man who was supposed to be his father, Harry whirled around and punched Ron’s bureau with all his strength. The loud thwack of wood against skin as well as the pain that coursed through his hand was immensely more satisfying than the broken cages had been and Harry felt all of a sudden, drained…and completely alone.

Harry turned slightly and slumped against the bureau, using it as a support as he slid to the floor, his knees bending up in front of him. Harry rested his arms wearily on his knees and with a deep shuddering breath, buried his face in his arms.

Harry had no idea how long he had been hunched over his knees on the floor and he didn’t bother looking up when Ron’s door opened with a creak. He had an almost irresistible urge to yell at the intruder (presumably Ron himself) to bugger off, but he didn’t have the energy to pull it off.

Harry continued, instead, to watch a small spider’s slow progress across the carpet. The door was shut with a quiet click and his visitor moved almost noiselessly into the room to stand in front of Harry.

Harry realized immediately that it definitely wasn’t Ron who had come in, as the bare toes in front of him were decidedly not hairy. Since he didn’t think Hermione would walk around the Weasleys’ house in bare feet, Harry figured it had to be Ginny standing there in front of him. His suspicions were confirmed as Ginny sat down beside him, bringing her knees up in an unconscious imitation of Harry.

Ginny had surveyed the damaged room and Harry’s dejected form on the floor and understood that whatever memory had been locked inside the Pensieve had not been a pleasant one.

It had been obvious something had gone wrong as soon as she and the others had heard the two distinct crashes from upstairs, followed closely by a loud smashing sound. It had been Ginny who had fiercely stopped Ron and her mother from rushing up to see what had happened, after a quick spell by her father had told them all that Harry was alone in Ron’s room and breathing just fine.

Ginny leaned against Ron’s bureau and waited. Either Harry would want to talk about what he had seen in the Pensieve, or he wouldn’t. And, either way Ginny would sit with him until Harry asked her to go.

Harry however, had no intention of asking Ginny to leave. He found her warm presence beside him oddly comforting. He realized in belated embarrassment that she and everyone else had most likely heard his brief tantrum. It felt good to know though that Ginny would offer him this measure of comfort.

Harry glanced over at the pretty redhead and she was smiling at him. He tried to smile in response but his anger and frustration had not fully abated and the smile failed miserably. Ginny, sensing his distress reached over and squeezed his arm gently. The contact eased some of Harry’s ire and in an almost reflexive response he slid his arm down his leg until his hand was under Ginny’s.

They sat that way for what seemed like a long time to Harry, while he unsuccessfully tried to banish the Pensieve’s traitorous memory from his mind. The images wouldn’t leave, though. The more he tried to rid himself of them, the angrier Harry felt.

“Shite, Ginny!” Harry exploded suddenly and he surged to his feet, pulling Ginny along with him.

Ginny, though startled by Harry’s outburst, stood up with him. Harry gritted his teeth. He was glaring at the Pensieve and Ginny saw in his eyes that he meant to go back in there. Ginny started to pull her hand away to give Harry room, but Harry held fast to her, as though he needed the contact to get through whatever he was going through.

Ginny stilled her hand and Harry glanced down at her, questioningly. Ginny nodded her assent and the pair walked toward the Pensieve. Together, they leaned toward the swirling memories.

--------------------------------------------

Ginny stumbled out of the Pensieve with Harry as his chest heaved with tangled emotions. She squeezed his hand again gently and waited for his movements to still. After several deep breaths, Harry quieted and sat heavily on his cot.

“It’s true then,” Harry said dully and Ginny’s heart ached for him.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she said quietly

“What for?” Harry said mockingly. “Who wouldn’t want Snape for a father? Who wouldn’t want one more lie mucking up his life?”

Harry was twisting his hands in his lap with frenetic movements, having pulled away from Ginny’s grasp. He wouldn’t recall until later how empty his hand felt without Ginny’s fingers tangled in his.

“Harry, you don’t know the whole story…” Ginny began but Harry cut her off with a swipe of his hand.

“I think I got most of it, Ginny. James Potter isn’t my father. Snape is and everybody has been lying about it.”

Ginny, instead of commiserating with Harry, shook her head. “You don’t know that. You don’t even know who knows about this.”

Harry barked a short laugh at no one in particular. “Well, Snape obviously knows and my mum and dad…oh excuse my slip,” he said with a sneer before continuing, “James,” Harry stressed sarcastically, “knew it too.”

Ginny ignored Harry’s tone, thinking in spite of herself how like Snape he had sounded just then. “What are you going to do?” she asked, hoping to distract Harry a bit from his accusations.

Harry looked at his friend incredulously. “Do? I’m not going to do anything, Ginny. If Snape doesn’t want me to know I’m his son, who I am to spoil his fun?” The hurt in Harry’s voice was badly masked and Ginny picked it out instantly.

No matter how much Harry despised their Professor, and Harry definitely did despise Snape, it still hurt him that he was so obviously not wanted. It was strange though, Ginny mused. Snape had loved Lily; it would have been obvious to anyone in the room…and Snape had clearly fallen instantly in love with their newborn son as well. What could have happened to turn that love into the deep loathing Snape now felt for Harry?

Ginny could find no answers though, as she and Harry continued to sit in silence, side by side until, just as Ginny had predicted Ron crashed in through the door like some sort of wild Hippogriff. Hermione was right behind him, calling for Ron to stop. Ron paid no attention as he barreled into the room.

“Oi! What’s going on in here?” Ron demanded suspiciously as he looked between Harry and Ginny and at his tone, Harry groaned and flung himself back onto his cot. Ginny just scowled at her brother.

“Bugger off,” Ginny muttered to Ron and Harry couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Well, at least someone had said it, Harry thought to himself and barked out a laugh. Except it wasn’t a pleasant laugh. The sound was actually a bit deranged, even Harry could hear that and he wasn’t surprised when all of his friends turned to stare at him.

“Harry?” Hermione asked hesitantly. “Are you all right?” she questioned.

“Nope,” Harry told her cheerfully. Hermione and Ron looked toward Ginny, as if asking her if she knew what was causing Harry’s odd behavior. Ginny shrugged at them; she wasn’t about to tell any of Harry’s secrets.

“What happened?” Hermione tried again and Harry pushed himself up so that he was resting most of this weight on his elbows.

“Nothing really…you lot didn’t know Snape’s my dad, did you? No? Hmm….” With that, Harry flopped onto his back again, completely unaware that both Hermione and Ron were staring at him still, their mouths agape now.

After opening and closing his mouth a few times, looking very much like a floundering large-mouthed bass, Ron finally choked out a strangled, “Your what?!”

“Is that what you saw in the Pensieve, Harry?” Hermione asked, and though she still looked quite confused, she had managed to regain her composure enough to sit tentatively on Ron’s bed, across from Harry and Ginny with her hands resting sedately in her lap.

Harry didn’t answer either of them. He was too busy pressing his fists into his eyes, wishing he’d never found that stupid Pensieve. Wasn’t Voldemort enough for him to have to deal with? Without trying to figure out why everyone had been lying to him for years?

Well, it was pretty obvious, actually, wasn’t it, Harry thought bitterly. Snape was a spy for the very person who wanted to kill Harry. Of course, Snape wouldn’t want an enemy of the Dark Lord for a son. Never mind that Dumbledore always insisted that Snape was trustworthy.

“Interfering old coot…” Harry muttered under his breath.

“Snape?” Hermione asked, still confused.

Harry ignored her, turning to look at Ginny instead. “Add Dumbledore to the list as well. I’d bet my Firebolt he knows something about this too.” Ginny pursed her lips but didn’t argue with him. Since Dumbledore did seem to inexplicably know almost everything, it made sense that he would know about this too.

“Harry,” Hermione began a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Are you going to explain what’s going on?” she asked him.

Harry sighed. He was too tired to go into it now. He gestured vaguely at Ginny. “Would you mind, Gin?” he asked her wearily. Ginny nodded and then she detailed the entire memory for her brother and Hermione, both of whom listened without one interruption, though Harry thought he heard Ron gagging at the mention of Snape kissing Harry’s mother. Well, Harry certainly couldn’t blame Ron for that, now could he?

When Ginny finished, there was absolute silence. Harry pushed up again on his elbows and looked over at his friends. Ron, by this time had chosen to take a seat on the hard floor, sitting cross legged and leaning backward on his hands slightly, staring up at the ceiling. Hermione was staring at the Pensieve thoughtfully.

“What other memories did you see, Harry?” Hermione finally asked him, not taking her eyes off the receptacle. Harry blinked at her in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Harry,” Hermione said in exasperation, finally looking in his direction. “A Pensieve can hold more than one memory.” She paused, a knowing look stealing over her features. “You left before the first one ended, didn’t you?”

“You would have too, if you’d just found out Snape was your father,” Harry huffed indignantly at her. How was he to know a Pensieve could hold more than one memory?

“Honestly, Hermione! Harry’s had a shock,” Ginny put in, coming to Harry’s defense. That made the bushy-haired girl smile again and Ginny scowl at her in response.

“How do you know there are more anyway?” Harry asked his friend grouchily.

“It seemed pretty full, that’s all…for such a short memory.”

Ginny cut in again, “Well maybe it was a long memory and Harry left too soon to tell.”

Hermione shrugged. “Maybe,” she said and then turning to Harry, she asked, “Well? Don’t you want to find out?”

Harry stared at her. “Are you daft, Hermione? You think I want to see more of that?”

“But, Harry,” the girl protested, “maybe they’ll tell you why-”

“Leave it, Hermione.” That was Ron, finally bringing his head down from his study of the ceiling to look straight at Hermione. Ron’s voice was uncharacteristically firm and after a moment of looking back into his eyes, Hermione drooped a little and nodded. Harry threw a grateful look at his best mate, but Ron had gone back to staring at the ceiling.

Ginny, looking for a way to break the tension in the room, said rather louder than was necessary, “Why don’t we go see if mum needs help getting dinner on?” Hermione nodded enthusiastically; she was obviously just as eager as Ginny to ease the tension she had helped to create. Harry looked at Ron meaningfully however and Ginny, understanding, pulled Hermione from the room without another word.

“Ron? You all right, mate?” Harry tentatively asked the redhead, not having any idea what Ron could be so upset about. For Merlin’s sake, it wasn’t as if Snape was Ron’s father!

Ron looked up suddenly and the anger in his eyes startled Harry. Ron narrowed his eyes and said coldly, “I’d like to punch that git right in the nose.”

Harry burst out laughing, causing Ron to blink in sudden confusion. That only made Harry laugh harder and he hugged his arms around his middle as the laughter became uncontrollable. Ron stared at him for long minutes before he too was struck by the very ridiculousness of the entire situation, including his own final statement and Ron began to laugh with Harry, their mirth echoing off the walls of Ron’s crowded bedroom.

When Harry had gotten himself a bit under control, he stood up from the bed, gave Ron a hand up from the floor and together, the two friends walked out the door. As they started down the stairs, Harry asked lightly, “Do you think your mum'll Reparo those cages for me?”

That of course, made Ron start giggling all over again and Harry joined in; they continued down to the kitchen, unable to contain their humor. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Hermione and Ginny were staring at them as if they were mad. Ron and Harry only laughed louder at the expressions on their faces and it was in high good spirits that they all dug into Mrs. Weasley’s delicious repast. For Harry though, the mood wouldn’t last.