Harry was sitting by himself in the library, quietly contemplating the strange and unwelcome turn his life had taken. It had been three days since Snape and Dumbledore dropped the news that Snape was his father, and Harry was still trying to wrap his mind around the changes that had taken place. In the space of just a few days, he had found out (rather unfortunately, in Harry’s opinion); that his father was alive; that Snape was his father; and that the git pretty much had total control over Harry’s life. Oh, and he also learned that Dumbledore was useless. The only thing that stayed the same was the fact that Snape still hated Harry.

"Oh, well," Harry thought listlessly, "at least he’s consistent." Rubbing his eyes, Harry gave a fleeting glance towards the large grandfather clock in the corner of the library. It was barely ten o’clock in the morning, and he was bored already. Most of the students had cleared off for the holidays. Only a few Ravenclaws and Slytherins remained behind - all of Gryffindor was gone. Harry smiled when he thought of his friends, but it was short lived. He missed them very much, but in some ways, he dreaded their return. He would have to tell them, and he just couldn’t imagine how to say it...

"Master Harry, please!" Harry’s musing were cut short by the high pitched whine of Dobby’s voice. "Master Dumbledore is needing to see Harry Potter right away, sir. Master Dumbledore wants Harry Potter in his office right now, sir."

"Oh, hello Dobby," Harry replied, deliberately ignoring the message. He had no desire to go see Dumbledore. "How are you?"

The little elf looked slightly surprised, but pleased, by the question. "Dobby is fine, Harry Potter. But Dobby would be better if Harry Potter listened to Master Dumbledore, sir."

"What does he want, Dobby?"

Harry was still stalling. He was sure it had to do with Snape, but Harry really didn’t care to know. He had been living in Snape’s quarters for a few days, and he had successfully managed to avoid the man the majority of the time. Aside from showing Harry a small, sparsely decorated room and barking out a few orders, Snape had been strangely absent from the dungeons. In fact, he was usually gone when Harry awoke, and in general, seemed to be doing his best to avoid Harry. Harry, being the appreciative sort, did his best to repay the favor. Whenever Snape showed up, he would retreat to his room or otherwise vacate the residence until sheer exhaustion forced him to seek the comfort of his bed. It seemed they had worked out, in rather quick fashion, a mutual if unwritten agreement to ignore each other. In fact, the only real insult the man had thrown his way had something to do with disobedient children and the strange spell the Potions Master had cast in Dumbledore’s office. He would have to ask Hermione about that one...

"Dobby doesn’t know, sir," the little elf whined. "But Harry Potter must go now..." Dobby had Harry’s arm in a surprising strong grip and was pulling heartily.

"All right, all right, Dobby. I’ll go." Harry gathered up his books, stuffed them into his bag and made his way out of the library. Dobby followed close behind, ready drag Harry to the Headmaster’s office if the boy looked like he was going to deviate from his course. When they finally reached the office, Dobby gave a little wave and a bow, and then vanished without a sound. Making sure the little elf was gone, Harry took two steps back and turned to walk away. But before he could get a step in, the door opened to reveal the Headmaster sitting behind his desk stroking Fawkes.

"Harry, do come in," Dumbledore said, gesturing to a chair nearest the desk where the Headmaster was seated.

Harry sighed. Oh well, there was no getting out of it... He turned around and let his feet pull him reluctantly into the Headmaster’s office. He didn’t make it very far, though, before he noticed another figure in the room. Cornelius Fudge, complete with bowler hat and striped suit, was perched stiffly in a chair on the far side of the room. He wore a pinched, uncomfortable expression that reminded Harry of the look Dudley used to wear whenever he hadn’t had a bowel movement for a few days. But he supposed Fudge was, in his own way, a bit constipated. The man spent so much time refusing to acknowledge Voldemort that is seemed likely he had gotten into the habit of holding things back. Despite the ick-factor, Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image that formed in his mind.

The Headmaster cleared his throat softly, "Something is amusing, Harry?"

"Oh, no. No sir. Just a bit of a cold," Harry replied, faking a few coughs for good measure. "You wanted to see me, Sir?

Harry kept his voice polite, but formal. He was angry with Dumbledore - furious, in fact. But after some reflection, Harry had come to the conclusion that being disrespectful towards the man would not solve anything. Clearly, raging at the Headmaster hadn’t done any good the day Dumbledore told him about the prophecy. Harry had destroyed several of Dumbledore’s possessions, but the Headmaster had simply smiled and continued to hide truths from him. There was no reason to think Dumbledore would react any differently now. And so, Harry decided that cool formality was the best approach for dealing with the Headmaster.

Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow at Harry, but said nothing else about Harry’s alleged illness. Instead, the elderly wizard chose to get straight to business.

"As you know, your guardianship has been a major issue over the last few weeks," Dumbledore announced. Harry snorted. It seemed as though Dumbledore was really good at pointing out the obvious.

"Your father’s custody application is pending at the Ministry; however, before approving it, they would like to conduct a paternity test. I have tried to convince the Minister to perform it here, but the Wizengamot is insistent that it be performed by authorized personnel." Harry didn’t miss the strange look that passed from Dumbledore to Snape, or the murderous look Snape turned on Fudge.

Harry didn’t say anything, but all of a sudden, he could feel his heart beat faster. Maybe there was something more to this than they were letting on... Maybe the Potions Master really wasn’t his father, and Dumbledore and Snape were getting nervous at the idea of a ministry test... Harry felt his heart leap.

"Great," he said. "When do we go?"

Dumbledore looked a little surprised by Harry’s reaction, but recovered quickly. "I’m glad to see your enthusiasm showing through, Harry. We will proceed to the Ministry shortly, but before we go, there is something you must know."

Harry waited silently for the Headmaster to continue.

"We have tried to keep the custody issue as quiet as possible; however, that is no longer possible. The information has been leaked to the media, and there is a full contingent of reporters and spectators awaiting our arrival at the Ministry." Harry’s heart sank. Just what he needed. A room full of Rita Skeeters waiting to pounce on him when he arrived. Still, it would be worth it if he found out Snape wasn’t his father.

"What happens if the test shows he’s not my father?" Harry asked. Dumbledore started to answer, but Fudge immediately cut him off.

"You will become a ward of the Ministry, and you will have the highest protection that we have," the Minister gushed. "Once this absurdity is settled, you will be under the protection of the Ministry until you reach the age of maturity."

Harry felt his hopes die a bit with the Minister’s comments. Being "under the protection" of the Ministry sounded strangely like being "under the control" of the Ministry, and neither seemed a very good option. Rubbing absently at scars on the back of his hand, Harry addressed the Minister.

"What if I don’t want to be a ward of the Ministry?"

"You have no choice, dear boy. I mean, surely you realize that you have to go somewhere? What better place than the Ministry?" Fudge leered.

Harry was silent. He couldn’t think of a worse place. Well, the dungeon was close...

"But I can’t live at the Ministry," he pointed out. "So where would I stay?"

The Minister waved his hand as if brushing away a bothersome fly. "Oh, we’ll find a suitable home for you, to be sure." He didn’t look at Harry as he talked, but instead, chose to focus of picking a few stray pieces of lint off of his trousers.

"It will not be an issue," Snape’s crisp voice cut through the office. "He is my son, whether he likes it or not." Harry looked up to see Snape staring at him. His expression was strangely unreadable. Harry, however, couldn’t hide his anger.

"Let’s just wait and see what the test shows, Father..." Harry hissed. He couldn’t help uttering the last word as if it were a nasty insult. When Snape had taken Harry down to the dungeons, he insisted that Harry call him ‘father." Harry wasn’t sure why, but he suspected it was to humiliate him. It was one of the few orders that Snape had given him, and the one that Harry was most determined to ignore. Most of the time, he refused to use the title, but when he did, Harry was careful to make sure Snape knew that it was a slur, not a token of respect.

"Harry, please..." Dumbledore sighed. Harry ignored him and continued to glare at his father. He didn’t care if the Minister was there or not - he wasn’t going to put on a ‘happy family’ show for anyone.

"Dumbledore, this is most unusual. I would like a few moments alone with Mr. Potter," Fudge huffed. "I mean, really? Do you have any idea what you’re doing? He’s a Death Eater for Merlin’s sake?" The Minister gestured angrily at Snape. "The Ministry needs Potter to help boost morale. Can you imagine what people are going to say when they find out he’s the son of a Death Eater?"

"Yes, Cornelius," Dumbledore soothed. "It is unusual. But it is also true. Severus used to be a Death Eater, but he is now a spy for the Order. And Harry is his son. The ministry test will bear that out."

Fudge just snorted. "Well, then, Dumbledore. If you’re so sure, we had best get this underway. I’ll see you at the Ministry within the hour." And with that, the Minister tossed a handful of power into the floo and disappeared, leaving only a small poof of ash behind as he went.

Harry hung his head. It was a question he had been turning over in his mind ever since this whole nightmare started. He could almost see Rita Skeeter, pen in hand, dishing out some rubbish about how Harry Potter, bastard son of a Death Eater, was surely going to be the next Dark Lord. Not that he cared about Rita Skeeter, but he did care about his friends.

"Ron and Hermione will stick by me," Harry told himself silently. And in truth, Harry believed it. Ron was as good as a brother, and maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to stay with the Weasleys if the paternity test showed that Snape wasn’t his father...

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned to Dumbledore. "I’m ready," he said simply.

Dumbledore nodded and then looked toward Severus. "Severus, are you ready?" The Potions Master looked genuinely pained, and Harry briefly wondered why. But then again, they were about to floo into a den of wolves and undergo a Ministry test that would prove or disprove Snape’s claim to Harry. Either way, the situation was one that could fairly be termed painful. And strangely, instead of feeling at odds with Snape, Harry felt - for the first time - an unusual sense of association with the man, if for no other reason than their shared, mutually unpleasant experience of being a reluctant family.