Glancing at Madam Pomfrey, Harry waited as patiently as an eleven-year-old could for the mediwitch to release him from the hospital wing. He had been there since last Thursday. Granted, most of his time he spent there he was unconscious, but he was tired of looking at the pristine white walls. When the doors opened a moment later, his head snapped towards it. His green eyes immediately lit up with pure joy as his dad slowly limped into the main area.

"Can I go? Can I go?" Harry asked, whirling around towards Madam Pomfrey as he sat on the cot. "I don't hurt or anything. Please. Can I go with Dad? Please?"

"Well, someone is rather happy," the matron replied with a soft laugh.

Harry looked at the mediwitch, frowning. Why wasn't she just telling him he was free to go? Why was she waiting so long? He had things to do.

"Can I go, Madam Pomfrey?" he repeated as politely as possible, growling just a bit.

"Harry," his dad quietly warned.

"But, Dad," he whined, staring wide eyed at the man. "We're going to brew a potion."

"A potion?" repeated the matron slowly, glancing up at Harry's dad with a look of surprise.

"Yes," Severus replied, holding his head up high. "We've planned to spend most of the day together in fact before the feast tonight." His black eyes glanced towards Harry for a brief moment before he frowned. "That was the activity Harry wished for us to partake in together."

"I see," Madam Pomfrey said, barely concealing her smile. "Well, Mr. Potter, you may by all means go brew a potion with your father. However, I would appreciate it if you didn't overstress your body. It'll be a few weeks before you're fully healed."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," the young Gryffindor said, nodding to show that he understood. He then glanced towards his dad, waiting for the man to nod his assent at Harry's getting out of the cot. His grin widened when his dad offered him a hand, helping him stand. "Is Professor Sinistra going to come down with us?" Harry asked as they silently left the hospital wing.

"No, Harry," his dad replied quietly, opening the door for him. "She's resting in her tower."

"Is she all right?" The little Lion caught his dad's eyes narrowing on him immediately. "I just mean she hurt herself pretty badly, and I haven't seen her so I was just wondering." He then glanced down at the floor, still walking beside his father. "She's a nice lady, sort of attractive I guess."

"Harry," his dad said, gently grabbing his arm to stop him. "If you even so much as attempt to play matchmaker with Aurora and myself, you'll find yourself in deep trouble. Is that understood?"

"Why? She's pretty, and she likes you, Dad. And, well, you are available."

"I most certainly am not available," his dad huffed.

"Really?" replied Harry, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Then how come I haven't seen you with a girlfriend?"

"Oh, dear Merlin," his father mumbled under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Harry, I do not have nor am I looking for someone to be with. I am perfectly content being single."

Harry watched him for a few minutes before a thought dawned on him. Why hadn't he considered that? It was perfectly plausible to think. He then smiled softly, nodding once.

"I understand, Dad."

"Forgive me, but what do you understand?"

"Because Lily was a bit—"

"Harry!" his dad hissed, eyes narrowing in anger. "Do not call her that."

"Fine," the young boy said, frowning and glancing at the ground. It was the truth, though. His real mum was a nasty, selfish woman. "But because of her, you don't like women anymore, right?"

His dad's mouth opened several times as he attempted to speak before he just gave up and shook his head. He was clearly flabbergasted, which was so un-Snape-like. He just stared at his son, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose again.

"No, Harry. I assure you that I am attracted to women." He said nothing when Harry let out a little 'yes.' "However, the only woman that I will ever love is your mother."

"But what's wrong with Professor Sinistra?" the young Gryffindor asked rather loudly. "Why don't you love her? She's nice, and she's already shown that she cares for both of us."

His dad's black eyes darted around the hall as he visibly stiffened at Harry's words. Drawing in a breath, he glanced down at the young Lion and sighed.

"The corridor is not a suitable place for this conversation, Harry." His father then whirled around, grabbing his wrist before pulling him down the hallway towards the moving staircases.

"She's nice, Dad."

"So you keep saying," he replied, clearly annoyed by the number of students staring at them.

"She cares for us, Dad."

"Yes, Harry," his father growled, now opening glaring at the students.

"She probably even loves you, Dad."

"Two hundred points from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin," Snape snarled, becoming even more hostile with the now whispering students who pointed at them as they passed.

Harry's mouth dropped upon hearing that. Why had his father taken points from Gryffindor? They hadn't walked past any Gryffindors yet. The majority of the students staring in fact were Slytherins. Granted, they wore identical and almost comical looks of horror as they stared.

"If I were you, Mr. Diggory," his father hissed a moment later, "I'd keep walking before that sparkly garbage you wear rubs off."

Harry's eyes widened. Sure, his father was known for being a git, but that was just plain evil. He then watched the Hufflepuff quickly rush off in the opposite direction, likely to wash off the sparkles. Keeping his mouth firmly shut out of not wanting to be hissed at like it seemed everyone else did, Harry followed his father down the moving stairs, through the entrance hall, down the windy stairs leading down to the dreary dungeons, and then through Salazar's portrait.

"So, what are we brewing, Dad?" Harry asked, attempting to distract his father from his obvious signs of anger. He was pretty sure that his dad being angry was his fault.

"Sit," his father replied, pointing at the sofa.

Harry obeyed instantly, hanging his head. This was going to be one of those long chats. He just had a feeling that it would be. With a sigh, he sat down, glancing up respectfully.

"Harry," his father started to say, frowning. His dad then shook his head, bending down in front of him. "I understand that you like Aurora, that you see her as someone who would be a good mother to you. However, you need to realize that it likely won't happen. I love your mother, and I will always love her, Harry. I'm aware that you currently don't share those feelings, but your mother was a wonderful person, Harry. No, no, don't look away," his father softly said. "Please, Harry, just listen. I can understand your hopes of something occurring between us. You want a family, a normal family with a mother and a father. You want what was taken from you." He drew in a slow breath. "You likely won't get that family with me, Harry."

"But, Dad—"

"Please, Harry, just listen. You won't have that family because I don't want to replace your mother. In my mind, she is irreplaceable." His frown deepened. "Could I be with Aurora for your sake, knowing that you need and want a mother figure in your life? I don't believe I could. I would only alienate her, frustrate her, because as you yourself pointed out, she loves me. It is something I've known for years. The feelings, however, are not reciprocated, Harry. I would not be true to her in the sense that I'd always be wishing that she was Lily, making her be someone she's not. And that just isn't fair, to you or to her."

"You won't be with her like ever?" Harry asked quietly.

"I suppose if I was doused with a high amount of Amortentia then yes." He then grabbed Harry's shoulders. "I mentioned that merely because I know you're not foolish enough to try it, Harry. So please remove that thought from your mind immediately, so I don't Obliviate you."

"So, what are we brewing?" the young Lion asked, a few moments later.

"A potion that will allow us to see the true needs of our souls," his father answered softly, quickly walking towards his bookshelves. He grabbed a black leather bound book before beckoning Harry to follow him into his private lab.

"Is it going to take a long time?" Harry quickly jogged up behind his father, smiling softly.

"It'll take about ten to fifteen minutes."

"But that's not long, though, Dad. I mean, in class you give us like hours to brew."

"Yes, but this is not class, nor am I your professor currently." Severus then gently placed the book on the worktable before whirling around to grab the necessary ingredients from the shelves. "Sit," he instructed, pointing at the stool. As soon as Harry was sitting, he set the ingredients down. "Now, what does the first instruction say, Harry?"

"Cut the hellebore root diagonally into three quarter chunks," the eleven-year-old read aloud. His green eyes then rose from the book to look at his father expectantly. "Can I cut it?" His face lit up when his father motioned for him to do so, watching him ever so carefully as the young boy sliced it.

"No, no, Harry," his father said a few minutes later, wincing as if watching Harry was causing him pain. He then moved closer, holding his hand out for the knife. He inclined his head slightly, grabbing the knife before modeling how to cut it properly. "You press down like this ever so slightly, and you always cut away from yourself." He then handed the knife back, crossing his arms. "Finish slicing the remaining ones."

So Harry did. He made sure to follow his dad's instructions to the letter. He then glanced up when he finished, waiting to move on. His father glanced at his work, inspecting it exactly how a Potions master would. He waited for what seemed a lifetime before his dad merely nodded at him. With a shy smile, he glanced at the book and read aloud again.

"Add five drops of—" Harry's eyes widened before he glanced up. "Wait! Are they serious?"

"So it would seem."

"But how would you—never mind. I don't want to know." Grabbing the proffered amount in a small jar, Harry nodded his gratitude, slowly pouring it into their already simmering potion. "That is so wrong," the eleven-year-old mumbled. "Okay, so, it says now to add in the hellebore root and to stir for two minutes."

"Well, by all means, Harry," his dad said, motioning towards the cauldron.

"I thought we were going to brew it together."

"And we will, Harry. However, nothing you are doing requires my assistance yet."

Harry nodded slowly, tossing the chunks into the cauldron with a frown. He wasn't quite sure this was fun anymore. He had thought that it would be like a father-son bonding thing, but he was pretty sure it wasn't. Actually, it felt more like class, just without the breathing down the neck.

"It unsettled you, the events down in the chamber?"

Harry shrugged. Well, it was clearly no walk in the park for either of them. He heard his dad sigh before he inhaled slowly. Clearly, he was going to take a different approach.

"Miss Granger stated that you had attempted to come to Aurora's aid before Quirrell took her into the chamber."

"Yeah," Harry replied, shrugging again as he continued to stir.

"Why did you feel the need to do so, Harry?"

"I don't know. I guess because I wanted to save her." He then frowned. "She told him to let her go, but he didn't. He slammed her against the wall instead. I don't know why, but I wanted to help her. I didn't want anything bad to happen to her." He shrugged once more. "Maybe it's like you said. I'm thinking of her as, well, you know, a mum." He watched his father nod slowly in understanding.

"You were afraid to lose her like you lost your mother?"

"No." Harry shook his head instantly. "I don't have a mother. I only have you."

"But when you regained consciousness, you immediately asked me about your mother."

Harry's eyes darted towards the now teal colored potion. He had thought they already dealt with this earlier. He hadn't meant to blurt that out. And knowing that his dad didn't like her in that way, he really didn't want to talk about it anymore.

"Harry," his father softly said, gently pushing Harry's chin up so he'd stare into his father's eyes.

"I meant Professor Sinistra," he whispered.

"You think of her as your mother?"

"I guess," the young boy answered, shrugging.

"Why? What has she done to make you think of her in that way?"

"She cared for me when you had to be away for something."

"How so?" his father further pressed.

"I don't know. She sat with me, sort of like how you did when I was having nightmares." Harry's frown deepened as his eyes darted to the potion. "She ran her fingers through my hair whenever I was scared or something." Harry shrugged, not wanting to continue listing the numerous things she did but doing so for some reason. "She also helped me with my schoolwork whenever I needed it. I don't know. I guess it's just she was there." His eyes slowly lifted to meet his father's again. "It felt nice, and I didn't want to lose that feeling."

"And when you saw Quirrell harm her in the chamber before I arrived, you were scared you'd lose that feeling." His father then paused, waiting a moment before adding, "That you'd lose her."

"He was hurting her," Harry replied, staring at his dad. "I had to do something. I had to help her. I couldn't lose her."

"Like you lost your mother?" his dad asked quietly.

"I don't have—"

"You have a mother, Harry."

"No I don't."

"Why? Was it because she stated in that letter, that she didn't want to have a child with James, her husband, but instead that she wanted one with me?"

"No."

"Then why? Why are you so upset with a woman who sacrificed her life for you, Harry?"

"She gave me to the Dursleys!"

"Because I could not care for you," his father countered.

"No, no, she said that James wanted me to go to that Sirius guy, but she changed it. She changed it, Dad. She wanted me to live like a slave for the Dursleys."

"Is that what you believe, Harry? That your mother was so heartless that she wished after giving her life for you that you'd be abused by her sister and the fat lard that she married?"

"If she cared for me, then she would have put me with someone else, not them!"

"As she explained in the letter, Harry, she believed her sister would get over herself and care for you as she would have wanted Lily to care for your cousin."

"Yeah, well, she was wrong, Dad!"

"And you hate her for that, that she made a mistake?" his father asked. "Then you likely hate me, too. I made a mistake, Harry, a mistake that one could say was even worse than hers."

"But you regret it every day," Harry argued.

"You don't believe your mother would regret leaving you with them if she knew the truth?"

"She didn't care."

"No, Harry, she would have cared." His father grabbed the stirring rod from his hands and forced Harry to look him in the eyes. "She loved you. She loved you so much that when she was given the choice of her life over yours, she chose you, Harry."

"What?" Harry felt as if the wind was knocked out of him. He had never heard that before.

"I begged for your mother's life, Harry, telling Him that I did not care what happened to you or James. I practically told Him to kill you and James, that I'd be complacent in it, as long as he spared your mother's life. I did that! That was one of my biggest mistakes of my life. She was given a choice, Harry, and she chose you instead."

"No, no, she—"

"She loved you, Harry. She loved you more than anything."

"But she . . ."

"She saw the best in us when the others only saw the worst." His father sighed. "Your aunt became horribly jaded after your mother received her Hogwarts' letter. Before that day, they were nearly inseparable. Tuney of course was unsettled whenever your mother had a bout of accidental magic. She didn't understand it so like any Muggle she became upset and later enraged, full of jealousy towards your mother."

"But you knew what she was like it seems."

"Yes, but I didn't know at the time that you were my son. I believed you to be James's son like everyone else in our world believes. Had I known, though . . ." His voice trailed off before he sighed. "I apologize, Harry, but had it not been for Aurora performing the Martyr's Gift on you, I'd never have pushed myself into being a father for you." He frowned. "When you lay dying on that cot that night, I was down here, destroying my sitting area instead of being up there with you as I should have been."

"It's okay. I understand," Harry softly said.

"No, it is not okay, Harry. I knew that night that you were my son, and I left you to be alone."

"But you probably did so because you didn't want to upset me. I mean if you had told me that night, I likely would have, well, hated you or thought you were nutters."

"That thought crossed my mind, too," his father admitted quietly. "Harry, Lily never would have sent you to her sister if she had known how horrible they would be to you. I promise you this. Your mother loved you. She gave her life for you, the ultimate sacrifice. So, why would she send you to her bitch sister if she thought for a moment that Tuney would treat you like that? She wanted the best for you, as any mother does. But you are correct. She was wrong to place you with them. Luckily, though, you never have to go back to those spiteful bastards." He then gently placed his rough, calloused hands on Harry's shoulders. "You are my son, my child. I'll be damned if I ever let you out of my reach again." He gave a soft laugh, staring at Harry. "You embody the best parts of your mother: her kindness, her smile, her love. Those are all things you've shown me these past few weeks, Harry, a man who doesn't deserve any of that. So to say you don't have a mother is to deny a part of yourself. Don't do that, Harry, not because of a foolish letter that only shows part of the story."

"What am I missing, though?"

"I was a Death Eater at the time. So I deserved that anger. And as I'm sure you've noticed, Harry, that letter wasn't addressed to you, so that anger was meant for me, not you."

"But you love her."

"Yes, and in my eyes, she can do no wrong, Harry. I deserved that anger, those words for the blood and tears that I've caused to be shed. She loved you, Harry. There is no denying that, and had she known, I vow on my life you'd have been with Black or some other person than that stuck-up bitch."

"So, she wasn't mean like I think she was?"

"Never, Harry," his dad replied. "She was the kindest witch I ever knew."

"Even nicer than Professor Sinistra?" asked the eleven-year-old.

"Aurora has her moments," he conceded.

"But Mum's always going to be better in your eyes, though, right?"

"Always," his father answered.

Harry nodded once, glancing at their potion. "Think I should keep stirring?"

"No. We can move onto the next step now."

"Which is?" Harry asked, glancing up at his dad who was the closer of the two to the book.

"Brat," mumbled his father, his lips quirking upwards ever so slightly. "Add fifteen crushed spiders and stir until silver."

"Seriously, Dad, who came up with these potions?" joked Harry with a soft laugh. "I mean fifteen crushed spiders?"

"Be glad that it isn't live scorpion blood, Harry."

"You're joking?"

"Certain draughts require its use. I have also had to squeeze the poison out of a live snake. While not all that difficult, the snake that I had to use was not as thrilled about it. The oddest ingredient I ever used came from a centaur."

"I don't want to know what it was, do I, Dad?"

"No, Harry, you do not." He unscrewed the lid of a jar, pulling out a handful of dead spiders of all shapes and sizes. He divided them, eight for Harry and seven for himself. He chuckled when he pressed his palms flat against the dead spiders, causing Harry to grimace. "Sometimes being a Potions master means one has to crush things with one's hands, Harry."

"Yeah, pretty sure I'm not going to follow in your footsteps, Dad."

"Somehow, I thought you'd say that."

The two men added the now crushed spiders to their potion with Harry stirring it a moment later. They seemed more relaxed and comfortable with one another now, almost being in tune with one another at times. Harry would glance towards his father and smile when his dad held up a finger, meaning one more final stir. When the potion finally turned silver, Harry glanced at his dad once more, only to grin when the man nodded and held out two glasses.

"Pour half of it in both," his dad instructed. "We'll bottle the rest later." His father watched him, not saying a word as Harry slowly poured the silvery potion into the glasses.

"Shouldn't it be hot, though?" he asked, noticing that there was no steam rising from either glass.

"No. The—"

"You know what, Dad, never mind. I really don't need to know the details."

"As you wish," his father stated, scoffing a moment later. "Lily was rather skilled with Potions, Charms as well."

"Is that why everyone says I look like James?"

"Perhaps," his dad answered. "She likely concealed your true paternity with a Glamour spell." He then frowned. "However, Aurora swears that she can see my face in yours. If you'd like, we can attempt to break the spell."

"I don't know. I sort of like how I look, but then again I don't want to find out when I'm like fifteen or something that I've got your nose or something."

"Ah, yes, the horror that would bring," his father drawled.

"You know, everyone knows about us now."

"If not, then they shall learn of it at the feast tonight," Severus concurred. "You unfortunately did make a bit of a scene on our way down here."

"Sorry," Harry said, glancing down.

"It was bound to come out at some point," his dad muttered. "I'm just glad that you are comfortable with telling others that. However, there likely will be some sort of backlash with it, given how much of a—what does Mr. Weasley call me, ah, yes—greasy nosed git?" He chuckled softly when Harry grimaced. "Believe me, Harry. I've been called worse."

"You know, Dad, you're sort of cool." Harry smiled widely at his father. "Why don't you let the others see you like this?"

"Why am I a cold-hearted bastard is what you mean, correct?" his dad replied with a laugh. "The short answer is that I've rarely had anything good in my life, Harry. I rarely take the opportunity to let others in also. It perhaps is because I've fallen on my nose too many times with people." He then sighed. "I have a feeling, however, that you'll likely change this old wizard."

"Can we drink it yet?" Harry asked, glancing at the silver liquid in his glass.

"Yes, Harry, we may drink it now." He watched Harry tip his head back, pouring the potion into his mouth before he did the same.

Almost instantly, Harry felt a rush of something in his veins as the potion spread like wildfire throughout his body. He shook his head once to shake off the feeling. However, doing so only made his vision blur horribly.

"Throwing a fit isn't going to help, love," a soft voice said near him. "I know you don't want to go, but you have to go, love."

There shouldn't have been anyone in their rooms. Harry glanced around, cursing in his head the fact that he couldn't see a thing. When the blurs finally became recognizable, his mouth dropped.

"Love, please do this for us."

He stared at Professor Sinistra with wide green eyes. She was kneeling beside him, staring at him with a soft smile. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in a room that he couldn't recall being in before. However, he recognized instantly that he had posters of famous Quidditch players up. He then glanced back at her.

"Do what?" he asked quietly.

"Spend the night at your mother's house." She sighed, brushing his hair back affectionately. "I know you don't like spending time there, but she is your mother, Harry."

"Where's Dad?" he asked, ignoring her words.

"Where he always is," she answered with a soft laugh, rolling her warm brown eyes.

"Is he coming with?"

"Well, of course he is, silly," she said, giving him a strange look. "Are you feeling well?"

"Yeah," he replied, assuming that this was all part of the potion. It would have been nice, though, if his father had warned him about this first. "So, I have to spend the night with Li—"

"Please, Harry, call her 'Mother' or something," she said with a pained look. "Otherwise, she's going to continue her longstanding rant that I'm indoctrinating you the same way I did your father."

"Yes, Professor," he responded instantly.

"Professor?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes on him. "You haven't called me that in a long while." She then glanced towards the doorframe where Harry's dad now stood. "We're coming, Severus. It'll just be a minute longer."

Harry watched his dad's eyes glance at him for a moment before he nodded slowly. His dad looked the same as he did in real life, as did Professor Sinistra for that matter. Well, on second glance, he supposed she was a bit big— Harry's eyes widened as he realized what that meant.

"You're pregnant?" he cried, staring at her.

"Circe, love, where have you been?" she said, laughing while shaking her head. "Maybe we should take him to see Poppy. He might have hit his head with all that flopping around last night."

"He's fine, Aurora." His father's rich baritone voice surrounded him and filled him warmth instantly. "If this is a ploy, Harry, to get out of seeing your mother, then you'll find that it won't work. It's her weekend to have you. Neither Aurora nor I have any say in it anymore. You have to go."

Harry nodded slowly. This potion was supposed to show him the deepest needs of his soul. How was him leaving his dad showing him that? With a soft sigh, he got out of bed, standing. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that he had clean and new well-fitted clothes on. He sort of looked like, dare he say it, Malfoy.

"It's just for a night?" he asked, deciding to play along with the potion.

"It's just for a night, Harry. James and she have some errands to do tomorrow, so they had to cut it short lucky for us."

"All right," Harry replied, shrugging. His vision suddenly blurred again, causing him to remove his glasses and clean them. However, he now felt warmth against his face. He seemed to be outside now, which was odd since he had been in a room. Putting his glasses back on, he found himself standing on a street in front of a two-story white house. The house seemed eerily familiar to him as if he had been there before. He felt a hand on his shoulder, which caused him to glance up.

"Come, son," his father said softly, frowning as he urged him to continue onward.

Harry nodded once before he fell in step with his father. This was where his mother lived? It looked like a nice place. He silently walked up the path towards a man who looked a bit like himself. It had to be James, he thought.

"Snape," James said, curtly inclining his head. "Hi, Harry." His eyes lit up the minute he glanced at the young Lion.

"Sir," Harry softly replied, feeling horribly awkward. Just a few months earlier, he would have been embracing this man fiercely, possibly calling him 'Dad' or something. When James visibly tensed, he glanced towards the cobblestone. "I mean, Dad," Harry corrected. He felt nothing from his real father at the mentioning.

"There's my boy," a red-haired woman loudly said, briskly walking towards them.

Harry suppressed the urge to wince when she wrapped her arms around him. He knew without a doubt that this woman was his mother. He felt her press a kiss atop of his head and heard her whisper how much he had grown up since she had last seen him.

"Thank you for bringing him, Sev," Lily said with a large smile.

"You're welcome," his father replied stiffly.

Harry then watched her green eyes glance behind them. He frowned in response. She clearly didn't get along with Professor Sinistra it seemed.

"Aurora," she said with a forced smile.

"Mrs. Potter," replied Professor Sinistra.

"Well, I guess we'll see you two tomorrow, won't we, Snape?" James Potter said.

"You will." His father's dark eyes fell on him before he whirled around and walked back to Aurora. They both left soon after.

"I've made all of your favorites, Harry."

Harry simply nodded, following them inside the house. She seemed nice. However, on the outside the Dursleys seemed nice, too.

"Severus told us that you're quite the Seeker. James was a Chaser in school."

"I know."

"Oh, Harry, I'm just so glad you're home with us." She embraced him once more, kissing the top of his head. "It's been too long, you know. I mean, the last time I saw you, oh, you were just about to get your letter."

He nodded slowly, not knowing what else to do. He glanced towards James, smiling at the man. It was odd, but there was definitely some sort of connection there. He then shook his head.

"So, what House are you in? Sev refused to tell us."

"Gryffindor," Harry simply replied.

"Bet you're giving old Snape a hard time, though, aren't you?" James asked, playfully hitting him the gut. It was not lost on him that Harry had flinched almost instantly. "Is something wrong, Harry?" The man's eyes then narrowed on him. "He's not hurting you, is he? Because I'll—"

"No. I'm fine. I like it there." Harry watched James nod slowly as his face flooded with relief. He then glanced towards his mother. "Do you love me?" he asked point-blank.

"Of course I love you, Harry. You're my son."

"If you knew that I was treated like a slave, abused, what would you have done?"

"Harry, if Sev is—"

"It's not my dad," he replied, sounding just a bit like his father. "I'm asking a hypothetical."

"Well, we would do anything to help you."

"Even if it was Aunt Petunia?" he asked.

"Tuney?" James repeated with a funny look. "Why the hell would you be near her, Harry?"

"Even if it was her," Lily replied, staring at him. "Harry, I love you. I would never want to see you being hut. You're my son." Her green eyes glassed over as tears welled up. "Harry, you can tell us anything. We won't say a word. I promise."

"It's not my dad," he growled, becoming angrier with her. He then shook his head. "Why did you change who my godparents were?"

"What are you talking about, Harry?" James asked.

"Why did you send me to the Dursleys?"

"Harry, you never went there. Sev has had custody of you since you were a year old. Remember? He received—"

"But you did change my godparents to the Dursleys, right?"

"Yes, but—"

"What?" James cried, staring at her. "When did you do this?"

"Harry, my sister would eventually—"

"She wouldn't, Mum. She hated me. She and Uncle Vernon treated me like I was there personal slave. When anything bad happened, they blamed it on their freak, me, Mum. They called me a freak!"

"Harry, listen to—"

"Did you love me?"

"Of course I love you, Harry."

"Then why did you send me there? Why them?"

"Harry, I changed it because Sirius can't be an adult to save his life. My sister was raising a son at the time. She would have loved you eventually. Now, I don't know where you got these crazy ideas from, but, Harry, my sister would have cared for you. I know she would have."

"What if you were wrong, Mum? What if she never would have loved me? Then what?" he asked, staring at her. He watched her reactions, noticing the regret, remorse, and tears on her face. Her arms encircled him a few seconds later, embracing him fiercely.

"I love you, Harry. I would never want you to be harmed like that, never," she cried against him.

Harry closed his eyes, allowing the feelings to flood him. She seemed to love him. Her words proved that. Her hug reiterated that. Slowly, bit by bit, he felt something in his chest. He had felt it before with Professor Sinistra, but he felt it more now, strengthening with each second.

"I would have protected you to my last breath, Harry. I swear to you on my life I would."

Harry nodded against her, slowly and hesitantly wrapping his arms around her. If this was an accurate portrayal of his mother, then she wasn't the nasty, spiteful bitch he thought she was. She made a mistake, just as his father had, just as he now had.

"I'm sorry," he softly whispered into her chest.

"Shh, my beautiful baby boy, there's no need to apologize. Everything's all right now. You're safe and well," she replied, just as soft as he had.

He opened his eyes, expecting to find himself with his mum. Instead, he found himself back in his dad's private lab, staring at his father. Tilting his head to the side, he could see the man's closed eyes rapidly moving back and forth in his dreamlike state. Whatever his father was imagining seemed to be, well, unsettling to him.

"Dad?" he softly said, hoping it'd draw the man out. When it didn't, he pressed a hand to his dad's chest, thinking the touch would bring him out. "Dad, wake up!" That instantly brought the man out of his dreamlike state.

"Harry," his dad replied, glancing at him with a slightly horrified look.

"What'd you see, Dad?" His curiosity was clearly getting the better of him.

"Nothing," his dad snapped, clearly enraged by whatever he saw. He then grimaced, realizing what he had just done. "I apologize," he said softer. "What I saw doesn't matter. What did you see?"

"Mum," he answered softly. "I saw Mum." He watched his father nod slowly. "I don't know if it's what my soul needed, though." He noticed his dad stiffen instantly at his words. He then sighed. "Dad, I know it's getting close to the feast, but do you think we have time to go visit Mum's grave?"

"You wish to do that?"

"Yeah, I mean, she gave her life for me. And you're right. She might have thought that Aunt Petunia would've cared for me, only to be wrong. We all make mistakes, right?" Harry said, shrugging.

"We do," his dad agreed. "If you'd like, we can go immediately, Harry."

Harry simply nodded, not trusting his voice. Had his soul needed for him to see his mother? Was that why it showed her to him? Or had his soul needed him to get all the anger out, to understand her reasoning, to know that it was a mistake? He wasn't sure which answer was right. He likely never would be. But he was sure that he needed to make things right with her, even if she was gone from their world.

"Hold onto me, Harry."

"Why?"

"So we can visit your mother's grave."

Harry grimaced, feeling rather foolish. That certainly made sense. So throwing caution to the wind, he wrapped his arms around his father's midsection, holding on tight. Closing his eyes, he waited for something to happen, not knowing just what it would be. There was a tug behind his navel before a loud whooshing sound echoed around. He felt as if he was, well, flying. It was then gone.

"You can release me now. We're here."

Slowly, Harry's arms pulled back and fell limply to his sides. His eyes narrowed instantly when he caught the familiar cobblestone beneath his feet. He then glanced up and down the street.

"I saw this place in my dream," he softly said.

"You would," his father replied. "The potion draws on places, events, etc. You likely remembered when you were living here with your mother and James."

"The house is here?"

"Yes, if you'd like we can visit it, too." He said nothing when Harry shook his head. Instead, he headed off in the direction of the little cemetery near the church. They walked across the hallowed ground, stopping a moment later when they reached the graves.

Harry sighed, kneeling down and pressing a hand to the headstone. A few moments later, he rose and looked at his father, feeling different inside. "We can come back sometime, right?" His dad only inclined his head. "Then let's go home, Dad." Wrapping his arms around his father again, he smiled.