The late-afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of the cracked corridor Harry rushed along. He paid his surroundings no attention, as he headed towards the Hospital Wing, focused only on the destination. Toby's smaller hand was held protectively within Harry's, and the little boy walked with quickened paces to keep up with his brother's strides. Both boys, similar in appearance but different in age, were anxious beyond simple nervousness. They didn't know what to expect, yet showed little hesitation to keep moving forward until they each paused at the doorway.

Harry immediately exhaled, while Toby took a moment to catch his breath.

'I'm scared, Harry.' The small boy confided in the one person he felt to completely trust.

His obsidian eyes looked to the bed furtherest from the door. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. However, a dark form resting under the sheets couldn't possible be overlooked. Severus didn't appear to have noticed them; he remained still, and silent.

Harry looked down at Toby. He wished he could tell the younger boy there was nothing to be scared of. It was Snape, after all.

With nothing the teenager felt would be reassuring enough to say, the Gryffindor slowly led Toby towards the bed. The walk felt to be much longer than it actually was, as though the entire castle of Hogwarts rested between the doorway and the bed. Harry wondered how Snape would react to have having a son. He suddenly felt a little glad he didn't know the truth of his own heritage.

If it was true, and he was also Snape's son, how could Harry every explain it to the man?

When the pair reached the bed, Harry was easily overcome by how weird it was to see Snape lying in a hospital bed. Such strangeness was washed away the instant the man turned to face them with his customary glare. The anxiety swirling through Harry only increased. The teenager fidgeted on the spot, and forced himself to look away from the dark eyes staring back at him.

No one said a word.

Severus watched Harry, then his gaze gradually lowered to the boy at the Gryffindor's side. Toby reached the grasp a handful of Harry's robes in his own fearful anticipation of officially meeting his father. Man and boy stared at each other, while Harry mentally struggled for something to say.

Toby released his grip on Harry and moved closer to the bed.

The boy rested his forearms against the mattress in effort to see higher. Harry almost hadn't reacted in time to what happened next. The teenager jumped forward to grab Toby around the middle, preventing the boy from climbing onto the bed with Snape. Harry frowned at the squirming child. Toby was so shy and careful most of the time, yet would occasionally then do something Harry himself wouldn't have dared to even consider.

'I'm Toby.' The nearly-seven-year-old stated to the wary occupant in the bed.

'So I've heard.' Severus sat upright.

He felt rather self-conscious, even with the sheet partially covering him. Minus his robes, the man was dressed in his usual attire, but being visited in the Hospital Wing by the pair did not make him feel especially comfortable.

'He's your son.' Harry said boldly. 'Your mother recognised him too. She thought he was dead, but he's not. Obviously.' He rambled a little in his nervousness.

Harry had to tell Snape - he had to let the man know the truth, even if the Gryffindor wanted to keep Toby to himself.

'Precisely how long have you known my mother, Potter?' Severus glared at the teenager.

'Er, a while. Months.' Harry shrugged. 'So? You have a son!' He indicated to Toby.

'And where is the evidence of such?' Severus asked, his tone remaining calmly collected while his mind swam with thought he would rather not place into words. 'The proof?'

'He looks so much like you.' Harry insisted, yet somewhat avoided the question. This did not go unmissed by the man he was trying to convince. 'Your mother knew his, but thought he'd died. That's why she didn't tell you about him then. I'm not lying.' He frowned.

'You are uncertain of the facts, Potter.' Severus scowled. 'I am surprised my mother did not brew a paternity potion the moment she had suspected. Regardless, I would not have consented to it.'

Harry had tried to be positive, and to imagine Snape accepting Toby as he felt any parent should, but Snape seemed to be quite against it. The teenager ducked his head with shame, acknowledging that he was still rather rash with his assumptions. He had no proof, and Harry was annoyed at Snape for catching him on it. He was so certain, and so was Irma, but it wasn't enough.

Toby was Snape's son, and yet they had nothing factual to back up their instinctual, argument-driving claim.

'I'll brew a paternity potion then.' Harry promised, ignoring Snape's statement of having no participation in such. 'I'll do it because I know it's true.'

The battle of wit and stubbornness was interrupted by the small child who didn't care for their words or facts.

'Hi, Daddy.' Toby inched closer to the bed again, having freed himself from Harry's slackened grip.

He stared idolising towards the father he now felt he had. The orphaned boy, who had been such for as long as he could remember, now stood so close to his very own dad. Toby hadn't listened to the conversation, or questioning, as he was too absorbed in his own hope and eagerness.

Severus cringed at the title, and looked over at the child again.

He wasn't as strongly doubtful of the claim as he implied, but he could not work out how any of it was possible. Scarcely a handful of theories had even come to mind. Either way, he wasn't going to make any decisions until he had solid facts he could not deny. Severus hoped the boy wasn't his son. It would mean dooming the child to his ill-equipped care, and enduring shared traits that Severus wished he didn't have. He truly believed any child would be better off without him as the father. He would stay away from the boy until he had no choice in the matter.

All those things passed through his freshly organised mind in a matter of seconds, as his dark gaze remained fixated on a younger set of eyes.

It would be rude not to reply.

'Hello.'

His simple, however awkward, greeting had an undesirable effect on the other two. They notably calmed, and were somehow encouraged to keep up a conversation.

Severus wished they hadn't.

The only thing that overtook his thoughts of uncertainty was the anger building inside him. Regardless of any truth towards the boy's heritage, it seemed Severus was not the first to know about the possibility. He surely did not want to understand how Potter was involved in it all. Why did that brat have to be mixed up in everything?

'Are you okay?' Toby wanted to know. 'Are you better now?'

'Madam Pomfrey said my antidote worked.' Harry added. 'It did, right? I mean, you're not in pain anymore?'

Severus, barely able to keep himself from blushing, was very embarrassed about having two brat standing beside him while he sat in bed. It had been bad enough when Lily visited him, and it was even worse when he himself was no longer a child. He felt even more self-conscious, as though he was perceived as extremely ill rather than merely a bit tired. The antidote that had saved his life, was brewed by Potter – he felt unsure of how to react, and decided he owned Madam Pomfrey an apology for not believing her.

Too much was going on in his mind at once. It was far more than he was used to processing, and Severus was unable to answer their questions or his own. He wondered why they even cared – especially Potter. Why would the brat be so concerned about someone like him?

Severus looked away from their awaiting gazes of obsidian and emerald; two things he'd never thought would share a coexistent context ever again.

Severus remembered waking in the Hospital Wing; last place he ever expected to see again. He'd been told a few short facts about the end of the war, which concluded with the death of Lord Voldemort, and the two standing around him now were the reason he had made it to the point of needing to be informed. Harry had brewed an antidote, which Severus questioned in every degree. It seemed impossible that the boy would know how to make one so powerfully complex, and would be able get his hands on a sample of the venom. And then six-year-old had somehow, despite a terrible war raging around him, made his way to the boathouse to deliver and administer the antidote. It was something Severus had foggy memories of, but still he considered it to be rather unbelievable.

'Get. Out.' Severus hissed.

He wanted to be alone to compose himself and come into terms with everything that had happened. He didn't want to have a little boy staring almost unblinkingly at him while Potter, of all annoying visitors, stood there as though he was waiting for something. Severus felt he was supposed to provide them with something, but he had no idea what it was they expected from him.

'But-' Harry went to say.

'OUT!' Severus snapped loudly, disrupting the previous quietness of the room.

His voice made both boys flinch and jump back with surprise, though he felt no regret for their stunned discouragement.

'Okay.' Harry said very quietly. 'Come on, Toby.'

'I don't want to!' Toby whined.

'Move.' Harry nudged the boy until he started walking.

He gripped the child's hand, to prevent Toby from running back to the bed, and led him to the Gryffindor Tower. They were so absorbed in their disappointment, and a hurt they didn't fully understand, that neither boy noticed passing Irma in the doorway of the Hospital Wing.

She watched them walk sadly by, and turned to glare at her son.

He noticed her and winced, then turned his gaze away to deny her any attention. It was useless, however, as Irma crossed the space to his bed and cast him an expression rather similar to the one he'd aimed at his sons.

'Those boys risked their lives to save yours!' Irma scolded. 'And this is how you thank them?'

'They did it of their own foolish accord. I never asked it of them.' Severus returned.

He believed he owed them nothing – especially not his gratitude.

'You just don't want to admit that a little boy could do what you didn't – protect yourself.' Irma spoke angrily, but did her best to keep her tone at an average volume. Old habits, and in the preference to not have Madam Pomfrey chase her out.

'Or, perhaps, you are still blinded by your ridiculous notion that anyone with the surname “Potter” is incapable of any ounce of genuine goodness?'

'Leave me, Mother.' Severus growled. 'I wish to be alone.'

Irma knew her son's words referred to that very moment. He requested the peace needed during the restful stages of his recovery, and yet it wasn't all. Irma knew there was an underlining meaning to his words. Perhaps Severus hadn't noticed it entirely, but she did.

'Tell me, after she died, did you ever live or simply survive?' Irma wondered, knowing his ignorance to her question was as truthful as an answer. 'You've lost yourself, Severus. You can find yourself again, if you only give those boys a chance. Though she had a good enough reason, Lily left you. Yet her son came back for you. Your son came back for you. Tell me the scar on your arm hasn't vanished your heart with it.'

Instinctively, Severus peeled back the black material of his sleeve to see what had become of the Dark Mark.

He hadn't dared to even touch it, but his mother must have seen the mark on another to have noticed the change. He saw the darkness of the mark had faded, with all its power gone. Only a feint scar remained. Severus glared at it, feeling he could never escape the brand left behind to remind him of the foolish mistakes of his past. He still couldn't grasp the fact he had somehow survived the war whereas so many, children included, hadn't.

Why did he live, when so many others were more deserving of it?

'Harry and Toby care about you.' Irma continued. 'They couldn't stand the idea of you dying. You just told them to get out instead of reassuring them you're okay - that their efforts weren't for nothing. It's moments like this I am reminded that you are your father's son.'

As her voice took on a harsher tone, one he was more used to from his childhood, Severus could not restrain himself from visibly flinching at her words.

Had anyone else said those words, he'd have shouted at them to go away, and search for his wand. But this was his mother, who he despised for betraying and not protecting him, but who he could never actually seek to harm. She was part of a hope he'd once held onto - the an image of family he had dreamed of as a child. Adult Severus had given up on those foolish things now, yet her presence always reminded him of things he wished to forget.

He could not forgive her, but Severus found it hard to blame her entirely for how things had turned out.

For years she had been the target of his father's rage and unkindness, so her son wouldn't have to. It wasn't perfect, but Severus acknowledged there were times he'd had a mother. Someone who cared for him, who tried to help him when she could, and yet all of that could not erase the fact she had essentially abandoned him. And now, after everything, she told him he was the son of the monster who had hurt them every day for most of his childhood. He had expected to be furious and insulted, and instead it stirred an uncomfortable hurt inside him.

Severus felt stricken, and was unable to offer her a reply or ounce of self defence.

'Now what lessons are you teaching your son?' Irma continued, feeling someone had to get through to him before it was too late. She would not allow Severus to throw away what he had, not because of what had once been taken from him. 'No matter how cruel he was to you, when your father was injured and you tried to help him - how did you feel when he shoved you away?' She asked.

Severus said nothing, forcing his gaze away from her with a defeated frown set on his face.

He fought the urge to shout at her to leave him alone, but with her words about him being the son of Tobias Snape...Severus did not want to prove the point by raising his voice in a threatening manner. Had Severus become like him, after all? He didn't drink and or strike people in violence, but was bitter and unable to move on. He shouted and belittled others, even children, and refused to give anyone a chance regardless of if they gave him one. He was disgusted at himself, and furthermore wished he hadn't woken to face all the things he wanted to stay away from.

It was why Harry and Toby received none of his gratitude, because Severus felt he had none to give.

'And the expression on your face during those times?' Irma said in a stern voice. 'I just saw it again on theirs.'

Severus slowly looked towards the door where Harry and Toby had vanished through moments earlier.

He didn't believe her.

He insisted, to himself at least, that the situation was completely different. He was not their father. Even if they were worried about him for an unknown reason, asking if he was okay couldn't possibly be riddled with actual concern and fondness. He refused to believe it. Severus could not see how his mother could say what she was in claim that he was anything like the monster he had always feared becoming.

Convincing himself what she said wasn't true, Severus glared at his mother and regained a shadow of his former composure.

'You're trying my patience, Mother.' Severus said angrily. 'I did not ask for those brats to risk their lives for mine. I was the one who ought to have done so. It was my responsibility to keep Potter safe when I made that retched vow. What happened in the boathouse was hardly my doing, and yet it was as it should have been!'

'Are you angry, Severus, because Harry left you there to die or because he sent someone to save you?' Irma prepared to leave, knowing there was only so much her son would tolerate before he snapped.

She did not fear him, as she had Tobias, but Irma had no desire to test his limits either.

'Face it, you never expected nor wanted to make it out of this war alive. You wished to fulfil your duties and be done with it all, am I right?'

'Get. Out!' Severus snarled.

'You may have accepted death, Severus, but don't you dare become angry because there were those who want you to live.' Irma said in parting, as she turned and left the Hospital Wing.

Her anger fading to sadness, as she remembered the little boy who smiled when he brought her a flower from the garden, or wrapped his small arms around her when he wanted her to remember he loved her. What had she done wrong to lose that little boy of hope and ambition?

Her son was grown now, and he had suffered more than even she had.

Irma remembered seeing him moments before he'd rushed off to find Harry, when the ground had begun to shake. The moment it was clear something was going on, he had sought the boy before Dumbledore without any hesitation. She could see now, more clearly than before, where his loyalties and duties were. He was a solider to Dumbledore, and a spy for those against Voldemort, but Severus needed a duty he believed in.

Ending the war was not something Irma thought he cared much about, if only because the real war was inside him.

Lily had died by sacrificing herself for many reasons, and Severus fought every day to make sure not a single one of them had been in vain. Everything he did was for her, and almost none of it for himself other than his need for redemption. He had seen true evil, and Irma couldn't understand how that had made him as bitter and uncaring as he appeared to be. Yes, bad experiences could do things to people and change them in ways that may be unpredictable or against who they truly were, but not Severus. Throughout his entire life, he had deliberately struggled to not lose himself to a world he felt to be drowning in. Something else was going on under the surface this time.

He had hung onto life for purpose, but Severus had lost hope.

--

Inside the Hospital Wing, Severus wanted to kick and throw things in his fury.

He was angry, confused, and despised everyone who had interrupted his rest. Nothing was the same anymore, nor would it ever be again. Since Lily's death, everything he did was about the war and keeping her son from the clutches of death. Now, Voldemort was gone and Harry could live his life.

And yet, unpredictably, Severus remained.

He had truly expected to die in the war. He had prepared himself many years ago to do every single thing he had to in order to make sure Voldemort could never harm Harry again, and therefore had to be vanquished. And he had, but Severus didn't anticipate anyone wanting to take those same risks for him. Harry and Toby had. He knew his mother's words were true, though Severus had too much to take in to focus on just one part of it.

He did, however, wonder what sort of antidote had saved him.

Potions was what he used to focus, and as an escape from what he didn't or couldn't deal with right away. He did remember venturing through the dungeons early one morning to find Harry brewing what looked to be a rather complex potion. The instructions had been written upon a piece of paper, rather than in a book, and Severus recalled having the unexplained instinct to let the boy be. When he'd turned to head for the Great Hall, Severus had no idea how important that moment had been until now. If he had interrupted the boy, would everything had ended differently? Would he be lying where he was, or would he be gone entirely? Harry must have been brewing the antidote then, and Severus could have changed the outcome without even realising it. And he had, by not disturbing the teenager.

In his own way, Severus had unknowingly determined his own fate.

With that in mind, and still reeling from the sting of his mother's departing words, Severus remembered something she had told him earlier before everything in his life had been overturned. She'd barged into his private quarters and ranted, then left him with a confusion he now began to make sense of. His mother said he'd been robbed, mistreated, and pained, but she had a strong feeling that by the end of this year something he'd lost would come back to him in a way he wouldn't expect it to.

Had she known, even then, how things were going to turn out?

She'd told him: “don't ever shut your heart out completely, Severus. Lily wouldn't want that.”

He couldn't see how it would be true, given the circumstances in which Lily had broken off their friendship and shown all signs of no longer caring what he did with his life or heart.

He hated the mass of uncertainties and loss of control, yet could only turn to the doorway when he felt someone was watching him. His eyes narrowing with irritation, Severus was not pleased to see Potter had returned. The teenager stood there, as though stuck to the space of the doorway, and stared at Severus with wary emerald eyes.

Slowly, Harry approached his sour professor and sank into the nearest chair beside the bed. He didn't speak, just hung his head and sighed.

Severus was perplexed. He had no idea what the brat wanted, nor could he bring himself to snap at him again. Against his will or not, Harry bloody Potter had saved his life more than once.

The silence dragged on, until Harry lifted his chin and fixed Severus with a determined expression.

'Please.' Harry said in a strangely quiet voice.

It was a sound Severus had never heard from the boy before, in any form, and it was enough to startle him. He expertly concealed his reactions, but didn't dare to speak.

'Please, Sir. Please give Toby a chance.' Harry spoke emotionally. 'He is your son, I know it. He's only six - he's just a little kid. He doesn't think about the stuff we do - about how hard stuff can be or that things aren't as simple as we want them to be.'

'What exactly is it you're asking of me, Potter?' Severus growled, though tiredly.

'Don't shut him out.' Harry said. 'Don't be mean to him. He cares about you. He risked his life to save you. He was so scared, but he had to help. He's your son. Toby is brave, smart, and kind. Anyone would be lucky to know him. Hate me, I don't care, but Toby's not me. This isn't his fault. You're his dad, you have an obligation to him.'

'Any obligation I may or may not have is hardly any of your concern.' Severus snarled, irritated that now he was getting some sort of lecture from a teenage Potter. 'Regardless of any truth or falsehood, precisely how long were you under the assumption that the boy may be of my blood? How did he come to be here?' He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Harry stared at Severus and allowed a contemplative silence.

He could easily summarise it, he supposed - about Toby showing up during the summer and Harry, unwilling to turn him away, brought the boy to Hogwarts to look after him. He'd leave out all links to Severus in regards to exchanging messages, of course, as that was a secret Harry wanted to protect. Yet, the rest didn't seem like enough. And so, the teenager took a dreading breath and told the near-complete story. He wanted Severus Snape to know it all, and to understand how hard Harry tried to look after the boy.

He wanted the man to know how amazing Toby was.

Harry talked for over an hour, while Severus never said a word.

He remembered the incident in Hogsmeade, when he'd greeted his own child for the first time without any awareness of it being such a momentous occasion. He listened, and often growled, as Harry told his story. He couldn't help listing all the rules the Gryffindor had broken in the course of a single year. Even the Weasley twins wouldn't have been able to keep up with such a record, Severus was sure.

Even so, in a rare showing of respect, he let the boy get it out of his system. He could see in Harry's eyes that it was important for the teenager to do so, no matter what Severus thought of it.

At the end of the tale about meeting Toby, hiding him in his dormitory with the aide of his friends, recruiting Dobby and Kreacher to assist, teaching the boy the basics of Potions, meeting Eileen Prince, and doing what he had to in order to keep the boy safe and healthy, Harry felt exhausted. He'd stared at the floor most of the time, trying to ignore the short intake of breath or grunt Severus made in obvious disapproval towards the methods Harry had resorted to.

Once he stopped talking, Harry cautiously looked up and wasn't able to decipher the man's reaction.

'I'm impressed, Potter.' Severus said, though sarcasm leaked into his tone. 'Your foolishness truly knows no bounds.'

'What's so foolish about it?' Harry grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest in a way Severus thought was eerily familiar. The fixed frown staring back at him was rather worrying as well, in terms of likeness.

'An idiotic boy's dormitory is scarcely a place for a child to grow up.' Severus stated. 'If you truly wanted to do what was best for the boy, you would not have hid him away. Tell me, Potter, was the secret of his existence for his benefit or yours?' He said unkindly.

Severus was still bitter about the secret being kept from him - if anyone had the right to know, he did.

'Yours.' Harry growled, fists clenched over the material of his pants to prevent himself from jumping up to shout at Severus. 'You couldn't know. Not until now.'

'That was not your decision to make!' Severus snapped suddenly, startling Harry just as he had earlier. 'Even by mere possibility, I had every right to know! I am the adult here, brat. You're but a child. A fool-hardy child who hid a boy under your bed like a lost puppy. I deserved to know!' Rage filled him, and Harry knew it was time to leave.

The teenager had nothing to say, so he merely stood and headed for the door. Pausing, he turned to look back at Severus and a pang of guilt filled him. Oddly enough, he was so convinced he had done his best for Toby that it wasn't what made him feel guilty for how things had turned out.

Harry had not expected, of all things, Severus would be most mad about not knowing he had a son.

It made Harry wonder if maybe, just maybe, it was better to know.

Harry reached into the pocket of his robes, as he turned the corner and headed away from the Hospital Wing. He stared at the vial in his hand, clutching it firmly, but carefully, and wondered if he too wanted to know. Did he also have the right to know? He realised he understood entirely, about how it felt to be told there was a major secret about himself and no one thought he had the right to know until the time was right. When was it ever a right time?What gave others the right to decide that?

Harry halted under a flaming torch and stared hard at the vial, contemplating if he wanted to know or if it was best to believe what he had for most of his life.

James Potter loved him, and gave his life for his, and Harry felt he should honour that. And yet, if he had another father, one who had also risked his life to save Harry's, than he owed it to himself to find out. No matter who it was, Harry knew he had to know. He had to hear what Sirius had said about him, and to find out if there was any truth behind the most likely reason for the new-found similarities between himself and Severus Snape.

It had always been there, but never as noticed as it was now.

The longer hair, paler face, and reformed attitude just stood out in ways they hadn't before. Harry wondered if he had never been himself more than he had this year. Voldemort was gone and, against all odds, Harry and Severus remained. Harry was tired of not knowing, and of others dictating how much he was allowed to be informed of. In that moment, as he stood a few corridors away from the Hospital Wing, Harry felt a burning desire course through him. Never in his entire life had to wanted to know something as badly as he did then.

It was time, Harry decided, to find out the truth.

Considering everything that had happened lately, Irma was surprised the castle wasn't in worse shape. The library, once she'd done some heavy dusting and returned the books to their shelves, only required minimal mending.

However, the room she'd tended to for so many years was not where her focus remained at the moment.

Irma stood in her private quarters, staring at an open aged trunk she had resting on a round wooden table. She'd almost forgotten about it. She had long ago stashed it in the back of her wardrobe when she'd first moved to Hogwarts as a staff member. It didn't contain much, but what remained at the bottom was very valuable to her.

Carefully, with fearful motions, Irma lifted out a faded golden frame.

Tapping it with her wand, the dust cleared and the glass sparkled once again. A small smile entwined her expression, as she stared wistfully at the picture within. Magic had preserved it in its frame, but it would forever be brightest in her fondest memories. The picture wasn't anything special to most, as it wasn't done professionally or during a festive occasion. It was simply a random family picture that had been taken by an even more forgettable neighbour.

Irma brushed the surface of the glass with her fingertips, her smile growing wider as she brought the memory to the front of her mind. She traced the faces of the three people pictured, though little Severus hadn't even been two years old at the time. He was seated on her lap, as she sat in a rickety old chair, with Tobias standing a little behind her to stare down at their child. It was sad to think Severus had been about the same age Harry had when he'd lost Lily and James.

Why was it that the happiest of babies linked to the Prince bloodline tended to endure the greatest of hardships?

Irma tried not to dwell on sad moments. She concentrated on the frozen image of what had once been a loving family. Tobias smiled at his son, who stared up at his father with an adoring face filled with laughter. Even she was smiling – the same expression she now cast down on the picture. Irma could almost hear the giggles of her baby boy and chuckle of her husband. It was as though the sound came from an unseeable distance – a place she could never hope to cross over to again.

Irma gasped, and almost dropped the frame, when a sudden sound broke through her peaceful moment. She quickly placed the picture back into the trunk, as though it should only be seen by someone who was able to appreciate its rarity.

'Harry.' She placed a hand over her chest where her heat beat frantically beneath. 'You startled me, child.'

'Sorry.' The teenager said, with little genuine apology. 'I need to borrow your pensieve, if you don't mind.'

Harry remembered catching a glimpse of it a few weeks ago, and was glad the thought had struck him in time. Snape had one too, but Harry didn't want to go near it after what happened last time. The other alternative was Dumbledore, but Harry didn't want to explain why he needed it once again. During the war it had been left unattended for any emergency use - Harry knew Dumbledore had anticipated its need, yet to use it again would make Harry think of the memories Snape had shown him.

Irma's pensieve was the only one he knew of that wouldn't stir additional recollections.

'Of course.' Irma nodded, waving her wand to summon the mentioned object.

She lowered her dark gaze to the vial in his hand, and bit back any questions she had regarding the boy's purpose. She decided, just this once, that she really didn't want to know. Irma decided to let the boy be, as she walked to him and placed a hand on his shoulder before she left the room.

Harry watched her leave, then looked over at the trunk sitting open nearby.

Curiosity grabbed him and he peered within the container, but didn't dare to disturb anything. Catching a glance at the framed picture, Harry felt sadness fill him once again. Much like viewing Snape's memories, Harry wished their similarities weren't so familiar. Yet it was their similarities that brought him to be standing there with another vial of memories clutched carefully in his hand.

Exhaling, Harry stood over the pensieve and experienced a brief bout of nervous hesitation.

Biting his lip, while fidgeting energetically, he inhaled a breath and tipped the vial upside-down. He watched as the memories poured from the vial to blend with the watery substance of the pensieve. Harry gulped, then fixed an expression of determination on his face.

He slowly leaned forward to view what Tonks was finally allowing him to witness.

-- 

Harry recognised the place instantly, but with a heavy heart.

It was Grimmauld place, though he couldn't quite determine when the memory had taken place. Before Sirius had died, at least. Harry felt a leap of both joy and remorse when he saw Sirius sitting at the large narrow table in the kitchen. He looked a bit bored, yet quite stern as well. Harry could not remember seeing his Godfather in such a focused state before.

'Alright there, Padfoot?' Remus asked.

He wandered into the room with Tonks at his side, reminding Harry this was only a portion of what he had hoped to learn. These were her memories, and would surely be limited in ways Remus or Sirius' would not be. Even so, Harry knew he was about to learn something.

'You're early.' Sirius looked up quickly. He was pleased to see them, though the expression in his eyes remained.

For a moment, as he watched his Godfather stand to greet the other pair, Harry forget the subject of what he was viewing. He was mesmerised by seeing Sirius again, and everything else seemed almost irrelevant.

'I'm worried about him, Moony.' Sirius said after a moment. 'Those Muggles...Harry's not happy there, is he?'

'No.' Remus said with a sigh.

'I thought we'd walked into the wrong house when we went to get him, to bring him here.' Tonks shared, shaking her head.

Harry tuned out of the details of the conversation. He didn't want to hear about Privet Drive, not now. He did, however, feel an odd sensation of relief that someone had actually noticed. The situation had been brushed aside so often, he'd been left wondering if he was the only one who could even see how much his so-called “relatives” didn't care for him as they should have.

'What happened to the Potters?' Sirius wondered. 'Or the Evans lot? Surely he has someone else to go to. Someone who isn't on the run.' He narrowed his eyes with shame, and desperation.

'There is no one that we know of.' Remus said sadly.

'I don't like him staying with those ruddy Muggles.' Sirius growled dog-like. 'What if I couldn't be there for him? Harry should be with someone who cares about him.'

'There's nothing we can do about it right now.' Remus frowned. 'If we had another solution, we would take action.'

'What if...What if there is?' Sirius rose slightly in his seat. 'What if he has another relative?'

'Another relative?' Tonks repeated. 'How?'

'What have you heard?' Remus sat higher in his chair as well. 'Sirius?'

'It's probably nothing. I mean, I heard Lily say something once.' Sirius tried to dismiss it, not sure if he was over-thinking things. 'I asked J-James about it once. He said they were trying to have a baby, but Lily had some strange idea about family lines. I don't remember what, but there were a lot of Potions books on the table. More than I'd ever seen.'

Harry, with bated breath, moved closer to hear better, but was startled when the memory abruptly changed.

He briefly heard Sirius, with the volume of someone who'd had too much fire-whiskey, exclaim how the Potters had wanted to have more children after Harry – before Voldemort had snatched their hopes and dreams away. What caught the teenager's attention again was how he was a “special case”, whatever that meant. Sirius said that now Lily had what she wanted, James was happy and far less reluctant to have many more children without any previous doubt or hesitation.

Harry, without understanding what any of it was supposed to mean, decided it didn't like the sound of it either way.

The next memory caused Harry to jump with alarm.

He had no time to take in much more than the sight of Grimmauld place during a later day, when Severus burst into view. The memory wasn't in its entirety, as Severus and Remus were already glaring at each other from either sides of a large room. Harry didn't have time to work out the location of the room, which had a soda, coffee table, some chairs, and a jet black grand piano.

'You're being unrealistic, Severus!' Remus declared in frustration. Tonks stood to his side, looking less certain but equally annoyed.

'Quiet!' Tonks whispered. 'The children will overhear.'

'Let them hear.' Remus remarked. 'It's about time someone does.'

'Black's comments are unreliable at best.' Severus growled with a significant lack of usual baiting and mocking. He ignored the angry protest the pair retaliated with, then continued to speak with strained calmness. 'I refuse to consider something that is clearly a poorly-fabricated lie.'

'Sirius was convinced!' Remus stated. 'He told us what James said the night Harry was born. There were extra measures taken, Severus. Lily wanted to make up for a past regret.'

'I hardly see what any of this has to do with me.' Severus stated, with slipping composure.

The expression on his face was dark and impenetrable, yet in a way Harry hadn't seen before. There was also a sadness in the man's eyes that the teenager remembered witnessing during the memories he'd been left by the man during the war. Harry noticed things about the man's stance and facial features that he would have completely overlooked and misinterpreted a year ago.

'Harry doesn't belong with the Dursleys! They hate magic, and anything to do with it. He'd be better off somewhere else.' Remus added.

'Despite your surely noble attempts to bring about such removal, you're grasping at things that don't exist.' Severus said.

'You were mentioned.' Remus lowered his tone, sending Severus a fierce look. 'There is a chance you were the one she referred to.'

'Black was nothing but a meddlesome liar!' Severus snarled furiously. He moved sharply towards the exit of room, passing by Kreacher seconds before the elf scurried from sight.

'Lily would be disappointed in your hasty dismissal.' Remus said furiously.

Severus flinched at the words, halting by the doorway. He rapidly spun around, and aimed his wand straight at the other man.

Remus and Tonks reacted by drawing their own wands, yet not a single spell was cast.

'Don.'t.' Severus growled in a dangerously low tone. 'You have no right. She could have spoken of anyone. She would not have chosen me.'

'A friendship she broke off in fifth year?' Remus pointed out. 'A regret she had, but could not resolve? Someone in need of a family they'd never had? Someone she knew she could save, if only that person had something to live for? Don't ignore the chance, Severus. If it's not true, let us simply disprove it.'

Harry heard nothing else.

There were random blurs and words - such as a piece of parchment listing information about a “Genitorium Potion”, Sirius sitting at a table to stare at an aged class photograph as though he was searching for something upon the young faces, Remus and Severus with their wands dangerously near each other's necks, a photo of baby Harry being held by James, and the fading blackness of billowing robes.

-- 

With a jerk, he leaned back out of the pensieve and gasped for air as though he had been deprived of it.

With widened emerald eyes, Harry shakily moved to sit in a nearby chair. He exhaled a long breath, and considered everything Tonks had allowed him to see or hear. Separately, it was mostly hopeful speculation, but together it painted a bigger picture. Harry thought it really wasn't very promising, unless one placed certain phrases or hints into context. Sirius had been so sure - Harry had seen it on his face. He didn't know the full extent of what Tonks had ever seen or heard, but Sirius knew there was a very strong possibility. 

Harry had other relatives.

The teenager was confused. Why was Snape so against even setting the facts straight? Did he already suspect, long before Remus tried to force him to consider it?

'Harry?' Irma returned, looking at him cautiously. 'What have you learned?'

'I think it's true.' Harry said, turning quickly to look at her. 'Do you know what a...'

He struggled to remember the glimpse he'd had of a set of potion instructions or information. He didn't know it, but perhaps she did.

'Grandorum Potion? No, Genidium...' He growled, trying to figure it out.

'Genitorium Potion?' Irma whispered with a pale colouring of her face.

'Yes!' Harry stood quickly. 'I recognised the handwriting. My mum-'

'Was brewing it.' Irma finished, looking away. 'I remember. I'm not sure how, but I...I think I helped her.'

'You helped?' Harry frowned furiously. 'You knew about this?'

'I tried to forget.' Irma said, shamefully. 'Lily wanted me to forget. I promised.'

'What is it?' Harry pleaded for details. 'Does it have anything to do with babies or relatives?'

'It...' Irma hesitated, then swallowed, still unable to look at him. 'It is far too complex to explain. It is extremely rare, and almost never used. I haven't even heard of it being used by someone who isn't a pure-blood.'

'What does it do?' Harry pressed, anxious to know.

'Essentially, it will provide a man with an heir. A son.' Irma said softly. 'It is not an uncommon cause, that if administered correctly, the child will inherit his mother's eyes exactly as they are. DNA is required for the potion, but not the conception.'

Harry felt like he'd been hit over the head with a broomstick.

He quickly retrieved the memories from the pensieve, intending to give them back to Tonks, and thanked Irma. The teenager hurried from the room, unable to look back. He needed to think, to focus, and work out what he believed. The teenager's head hurt with the rush of thoughts and new information.

He soon found himself standing outside the Hospital Wing, looking within it from a safe distance away. He saw Severus still in the bed, though he didn't notice Harry staring at his form from quite far away.

In his moment of most confusion, Harry remember something Sirius had told him not even a full day earlier. It was when they'd been in the all-white place of King's Cross Station right after Harry had been hit by the killing curse in the forest...

'It doesn't matter what you look like or who your father is. James loved you, kid...he gave up his life for you and your mother. Isn't that what a father does? Who do you want to be, Harry? That's what matters.'

'I'm just Harry.' The teenager reminded himself quietly, using the same tone he had when Hagrid told him he was a wizard. 'I'm a Gryffindor. I like Quidditch, and Potions. I have my mother's eyes.'

He swallowed and ducked his head. At the sight of the black strands of hair that curtained around his face, Harry forced his eyes slightly shut. He pushed out all the thoughts that made it hard for him to work through the facts, to emerged with a decisive truth.

He felt it.

Harry slowed his breathing, concentrated on a sole thought, and did exactly what Snape had once advised him to do in his moment of greatest doubt: follow his instincts. He could feel it inside his entire being, that he was in fact the son of the same man he had once hated. The man who had been friends with his mother, who had painfully grieved her death, who had protected Harry with everything he had, and who was quite certainly the father of the same boy he'd taught so much to.

'It's true.' Harry opened his eyes, which could almost seem obsidian under certain lighting and looked back towards the black figure in the bed. 'I know it is. I'm his son.'

Confidence in his words began to increase, as Harry considered it, and came to realise it wasn't so bad. A year ago he'd have made puking notions and shuddered at the thought, but now, after everything that had happened, he felt he could accept it with time. Harry had never been so sure of something before, and his instincts told him that now he finally knew the truth.

'I am the heir of Severus Snape.'