Severus, standing beside the bed he'd been resting in for three days, reached across to the night-stand for his ebony wand. He held it, as though he hadn't so many times before, and sighed. His neck felt numb, inside and out, but could not compete with the numbness of his mind.

Having spent an hour battling with Madam Pomfrey, Severus was finally permitted to leave the Hospital Wing. Three days seemed so short, when one considered how much he was recovering from. After being mere inches from death, in three days he was back to his usual self. Except, numbness aside, Severus would never truly be himself again. Too much had changed, and many more alterations lay ahead. They had reached a turning point. Things would become different, to the point that some people may even be unrecognisable. They would be shadows of themselves, yet hopefully they would then strive for the new lives spread out before them.

The anger, rejection, and confusion Severus felt, on the afternoon he'd woken, had all but dissipated. He pulled on his bat-like robes, which he'd formed quite a Hogwarts-wide reputation for wearing, and turned to stride out of the Hospital Wing. He noticed every crack in the corridor outside, as clearly as he could detect splits in Occlumency shields.

'Ah, Severus!' Minerva hurried towards him.

She looked tired, but otherwise maintained a level of contentedness.

'Thank goodness you're okay. Did Poppy release you, or did you sneak out?' She raised an eyebrow at him.

Severus didn't answer.

He merely looked away, tiredness and stress showing on his face. Minerva was sad to notice his defeated posture, and got straight to the point. She'd been heading to visit him, and Severus lingered long enough to hear why.

'I was on my way to inform you that Hogwarts is concluding the term early.' Minerva said. 'The castle is quite in need of repairs, as you know. Most of the remaining students left days earlier. The few still in their dormitories, or what's left of them, will be heading home on the train in an hour.'

'Do you require my assistance?' Severus wondered, once again counting the cracks along the walls.

'No, no.' Minerva dismissively waved her hand . 'You've been through quite enough. Please do take care of yourself, Severus.' She added worriedly.

'Will the school term resume in September?' He asked.

'We're hoping to, yes.' Minerva watched him carefully. 'Why?'

'I wish to return to my post as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.' Severus said with a sigh. 'With several new conditions of employment, of course.'

'Oh.' She was very surprised to hear he wanted to return to teach. 'What sort of conditions?'

'They are matters I will discuss with the Headmaster at a later date.' Severus said gruffly. 'If I may, I shall be leaving now.'

Minerva said something else, likely about his well-being, and thanks for his efforts regarding the war, but Severus heard none of it.

He continued on his venture to the library, where he spotted his mother and the little boy he was there to see.

'So the juice makes the plant mix with the black stuff?' Toby babbled to his grandmother.

The child was oblivious to their unexpected company, but Irma looked up with surprise and almost missed the boy's words.

'Yes. That is correct.' Irma nodded, still watching her son approach. 'Toby, look who's here.'

'Harry?' Toby glanced up.

He looked around wildly, strands of black hair getting in his face, and grinned at the sight of his father.

'Daddy! Look, Nana's teaching me about healing potions.'

'Indeed.' Severus looked down at the boy, who craned his neck to stare up at him with brightly hopeful eyes. Severus had to admit, he was rather proud that his son inherited not only his talent, but also love, for potion-making.

Toby was his son, Severus knew.

Harry, true to his word, had brewed a paternity potion with speed and accuracy no one had thought him to be capable of. Severus, despite his previous objections, even agreed to participate. He offered a few strands of his hair, determined to avoid any form of bloodshed until he could remove the image of a lunging snake from his mind. Harry treated the hairs like strands of gold, then hurried from the room. He returned an hour later with the potion, making sure to show the evidence the moment it happened so Severus had zero chance to deny the facts. Irma was even there to witness the significant event, alongside Toby.

It was then that his entire world came to a halt.

Severus had never felt so out of place and confused. He didn't know what to do now the war was over – he'd lost his sole duties and purpose of survival, and all of a sudden he had an entirely new boy to factor into his life. He had managed to keep the previous one alive, so Severus believed he could manage a second.

The one thing he didn't realise, however, was that Harry did a little paternity testing of his own. Any doubt the teenager had before, about his relation to Snape, was obliterated.

And yet, Harry kept his silence.

'Do you want to read with me?' Toby shyly asked his father.

The boy hadn't been told why he would get a visit from his new dad, but Toby didn't care. Just seeing him standing there was enough to make the child smile.

'Harry should be here for this.' Irma intervened, knowing what was going to happen next. 'After the year he's had, you owe him as much, Severus.'

'Can we go see Harry?' Toby jumped off the seat. 'Oh. Sorry, Nana.' He blushed before she'd said a word.

Irma glanced over and wondered what Toby was embarrassed about, but watched his actions with a smile.

The boy closed his book gently, and placed it carefully on its shelf. Once he was confident it was cared for and safe, Toby hurried back to his father. He blinked, and the first thing that came to mind was how tall his dad was. He hoped to be that big one day, so he wouldn't have to look up so much.

'He's in the Great Hall with the old man.' Toby said, unable to remember the name of the headmaster.

'Dumbledore.' Irma chuckled. 'But, Toby-'

'We can go and get him!' Toby grabbed his startled father's wrist. 'C'mon, Dad! Let's go get Harry.'

Severus growled and intended to yank his wrist back, but caught the stern look on Irma's face.

He felt she was judging him, more than before, after the comment she'd made about him being the son of Tobias Snape. Even freeing his wrist from the over-eager child would make Severus question himself. He longed to be free of her lingering presence, and if locating the Potter brat would speed it along than he supposed he would have to follow the boy to the Great Hall.

-- 

The grand staircase was filled only with the sounds of moving staircases and conversational portraits.

Once they'd left the library, Severus detached the boy from his wrist and made sure Toby didn't run more than two feet ahead of him. It wasn't until they neared the Great Hall that Severus regretted going there. He heard the clicking of shutters, and rumble of persistent voices. He turned the corner, and was greeted with a sight even he had to sympathise with Harry for being thrust amongst.

Any previous mocking or sneers he would have automatically thought of no longer occurred.

Harry Potter, as annoying as he was, had shown he was every bit as brave and true as a Gryffindor was boasted to be. Severus respected him, as the boy had achieved the impossible against Lord Voldemort. Not alone, of course, but Severus recognised Harry's efforts all the same.

Severus quickly waved his wand, casting a spell to stick Toby's shoes to the floor. It prevented the boy from running ahead into the mass of countless reporters filling the space in front of Harry, each wielding a camera or magicked notepad. They took pictures, evidenced by the constant flashes, and shouted eager questions at Harry, who merely stared numbly at the overwhelming attention. The teenager stood near the podium in front of the staff table, and looked as though he was going to be very sick.

Dumbledore was standing beside him, and placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.

Harry didn't know if he could move.

Facing Voldemort in the forest felt calmer and more controlled than this. The media, which he always wanted to avoid, had never been so overpowering. He gulped, and looked over to see an odd sight at the doorway. Severus Snape stood there, looking tired yet annoyed, while Toby fidgeted in front of the man - trying to unstick his shoes from the floor. Irma joined them, offering Harry a light encouraging nod. His family, for whatever reason, where right there. His family, Harry said again in his mind. He had a family now. A real one. He'd had one before, but this new one wasn't going to vanish. At least, not Irma and Toby.

Snape he was sure would disappear to get away, but Harry knew he'd come back.

Always.

A small smile crossed the teenager's face. He inhaled a breath, and stepped into the limelight.

'Mr Potter, how did you defeat You-Know-Who?' A reporter's voice raised above the others.

They were all spurred on by Harry's clear determination to speak with them, increasing their volume and level of frantic movements. Each were determined to get the exclusive, with the career-changing story of how a teenager had defeated the greatest Dark Lord of all time.

The war was over, but the story was yet to be told.

'Potter, what are your plans now?' A woman added.

'How does it feel to survive You-Know-Who a second time?'

'What do you have to say to the public, about the lives lost and the victory of the war?'

Harry cleared his throat to quieten them, and hoped he wasn't going to fall over from nervousness. He didn't want to do this at all, but Dumbledore insisted that if he didn't face the Wizarding world now than he would never be left in peace. They'd talked about it for a while, and in the end Harry decided to go through with it.

'I know you all think I'm some sort of great hero, and I suppose I kind of am, but Voldemort was defeated because we didn't in to him.' Harry said, having rehearsed some lines with Dumbledore beforehand. 'We worked together, we stayed strong, and that's why we won. If it weren't for my friends, I would not be standing here today. We lost a lot of people. I want every single one of them to be remembered, just like my parents were. None of them deserved to die, but they all died fighting for what they believed in.'

Harry paused, looked towards the doorway, then continued.

'I also want to take this chance to vouch for some people. Some of them made mistakes, even really bad ones, but in the end they helped us win. I can honestly say I'd be dead right now if it weren't for them.' Harry swallowed. 'I want to make sure the Malfoys are given just as much a chance at a new life as we are. To Narcissa for saving my life, Lucius for choosing family over everything else, and to Draco. We were never friends, but Draco Malfoy IS a hero too. I also hope an Order of Merlin First Class is awarded to Professor Severus Snape.'

He glanced over at the surprised, suspicious man.

'Out of respect for his privacy, I won't tell you how he helped me. But I can promise he deserves a lot of credit for the end of this war – a lot more than I do.'

Another clamour of questions occurred.

Harry squirmed, unsure what to do next, until he felt Dumbledore's hand rest on his shoulder again.

'There's hundreds of people I want to thank, but right now I just want to finally live my life. If you want to hear about heroes and details, you'll have to ask the true saviour among us.' He sighed, peering over his shoulder. 'Albus Dumbledore.'

'Headmaster Dumbledore, what are your plans for the school?' A report hastily changed target, which the others copied when the headmaster stepped forward.

This was how Dumbledore and Harry had planned it.

When it became too much for Harry, or he was finished talking for whatever reason, he should divert all the attention to Dumbledore and the wizard would take over. It worked. Harry stepped down, and was glad no one pestered him further. He hurried towards the waiting group, and looked oddly at Snape. Neither speaking, Harry lowered his emerald gaze to chuckle at his brother's antics. His younger brother, Harry reminded himself, who was indeed his actual sibling.

'My feet are stuck!' Toby whined to Harry.

He saw the expression on the teenager's face, and quickly figured out who was responsible. The boy crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned backwards to stare at the black-clad man.

'Dad!' The six-year-old grumbled.

Rolling her eyes, Irma removed the spell, and offered Harry an encouraging nod.

'That was quite a speech.'

'I hate speeches. I just want them to leave me alone.' Harry frowned. 'What are you all doing here?'

'We came to get you.' Toby remembered, hurrying forward. 'Nana said you had to be there.'

'Where?' Harry wondered, looking from one adult to the next. 'What's going on?'

'This is hardly the place for a discussion.' Severus said. Though he was better at hiding it, Severus was fighting his urge to flee the media just as much as Harry was.

Irma gestured for them to follow her down to the dungeons, where they stepped inside Severus' office.

The man narrowed his eyes, detecting something was out of place, but dismissed it for now. Harry, however, felt very calm to be here after the view visits he'd made to the room in the past few days. It was strange to think a room he had once been scolded in, and dreaded, could now bring him such peace.

'In a few moments, each of you shall return to the Gryffindor Tower to retrieve your belongings.' Severus told them.

Each boy stared at him, their faces shining with hope, so he quickly continued before they got the wrong idea.

'Toby, we will be departing at once.' Severus added. 'Potter, you'll be heading home on the train in an hour.'

'Dumbledore assured me you only have to stay with your relatives until you're of age.' Irma added to Harry, who looked downright miserable.

There was a quiet moment. Harry swallowed in his intense disappointment and sadness, while Toby slowly worked out what his father's words meant and exactly what was going to happen. Without much warning, the boy with a quietly cautious nature did something rather startling.

'No!' Toby ran to Harry's side and grabbed fistfuls of his brother's robes. 'I'm going with Harry! Or he's coming with us!'

'Toby.' Irma sighed.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, and Harry stood ridged in uncertainty of how to react. 'You'll see Harry again.'

'NO!' Toby yelled with alarming volume. 'He's my brother. I'm not leaving without him!' He buried his face against the teenager's side.

His fear of being separated from Harry flooded his eyes with tears, which dampened the material of the teenager's robes. Harry had saved him, had been his family, and helped him grow that family. He'd looked after him, protected him, taught him new things, played with him, and overall made Toby happier than he'd ever been. The idea of being taken away from Harry, even for anything in the whole world, was something Toby absolutely would not stand for.

'You have to.' Harry said, struggling against his own emotions.

He wanted to hold the little boy close, and never let him go, but kids belonged with family. The Gryffindor knew he hadn't done the best job of looking after Toby in the past year, but he had tried his very best. He wasn't a parent, though. Looking over at Snape, who was staring angrily at the ceiling, Harry knew he had to do what was right by Toby. It was what he'd been doing all year, but never had it been so important until now.

He also didn't want to take anything away from the child. Toby was almost seven, whereas Harry was nearly seventeen. Toby had a chance at a real childhood, and Harry wasn't going to intrude on that no matter how justified he felt it was for himself to be included. He was the son of Severus Snape too, but selfishness was never a trait that stuck strong to Harry, regardless of the situation.

'No!' Toby snapped again. Tears trailed down his cheeks, as he pulled back to pleadingly stare upwards at his brother. 'Please don't make me leave, Harry! I love you. You're my brother – please!' He sobbed against the boy's robes once again.

'Enough!' Severus barked.

He squashed his own guilt, while being unnerved by the amount of attachment his son had for Potter.

Severus strode forward, and snatched the boy around the middle. With Harry's remorseful assistance, the boy's fingers were carefully uncurled from the teenager's robes. Toby wailed and struggled, bringing tears to Harry's own eyes. He roughly brushed them aside, and turned to stand beside Irma. She placed a hand on his shoulder, patting it in sympathy.

'Cease this behaviour at once!' Severus snapped at the child, who stilled enough for Severus to put him back down. He grabbed the boy's hand to prevent his escape, and spelled his shoes to the floor again.

'I'll get his things.' Harry said in a dull tone, unable to look at anyone.

He didn't noticed anything else, as he turned and left the office. Harry didn't see Irma's downcast look, or the way Severus watched the teenager with a penetrating gaze.

-- 

Harry walked out of the dungeons and headed to the grand staircase, which would take him to the Gryffindor Tower. It was a path he'd ventured multiple times in the past six years, but never had he done so with such misery and guilt. Toby was distraught, and felt betrayed, but Harry knew he had to do what was right for his little brother. No matter how much hurt. He took each step at a time, his emerald gaze trailing over the space in front of him as he walked, until the reached the common room.

He stepped inside, barely remembering the password, and gasped.

'Harry!' Hermione rushed over in a blur of movement. 'Thank goodness! Are you alright?'

'We've been looking everywhere for you, mate.' Ron added.

'The train's leaving soon.' Hermione said. 'You need to pack!'

'I'm going to now.' Harry sulked, walking slowly to the stairs. He paused, then looked back, and slumped his shoulders. 'Toby's leaving with Snape.'

'Snape?' Ron frowned. 'Why?'

Harry stared at his friends confused faces, and felt another stab of guilt course through him.

They didn't even know.

He'd frequently avoided them in the past months, constantly put it off, and finally, even as the war came to an end ,he hadn't been able to tell them. They didn't know he was Snape's son, nor that Toby was as well. They had no idea about Irma, about Harry's newly found family, nor anything that had profoundly impacted their best friend during most of their sixth year.

'I'll explain later.' Harry promised. He owed them that much, though he doubted he could find the words as soon as he'd implied. 'I need to pack.'

Harry retreated to the dormitory.

He looked around the room, surprised by how considerably undamaged it was. He noticed the cracks along the walls, counting them while wondering how long it would take for magic to restore the castle to its former glory. Harry never imagined the day would come when he wouldn't eagerly await the chance to return to Hogwarts. Too much had happened. Too many had died. Far too many memories filled every corridor, room, and crack in between.

Harry went about gathering his belongings, carelessly tossing them into his trunk, and filled a bag Hermione had bought the Toby not long ago. He was surprised to notice the six-year-old had as much stuff as he did, minus the textbooks and robes.

Harry's hand brushed over the invisibility cloak, remembering when he'd smuggled Toby onto the train, and into the castle, with it. The times he had seen the child vanish underneath it seemed so countless, and then that same item had helped Draco hide from Death Eaters in his act of redemption. The cloak had once belonged to James Potter, which stirred another round of thoughts for Harry.

When every quill, sock, and potion vial had been located, Harry moved to sit on the edge of his bed.

In a few days, many things had ended. Lives were lost, the curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position was broken, the war had been concluded, the Hogwarts term was finished, and his unofficial guardianship of Toby came to an emotional halt. Harry wasn't sure he'd ever envisioned what would happen with them once the school term ended, with all his efforts to keep their secret for that long, but he felt terrible nevertheless.

'Harry?' Hermione appeared at the doorway. 'Madam Pince is asking for you. What's going on?'

Harry couldn't answer her.

He felt awful. He wanted to cry, scream, kick, and beg, but he did none of those things. The teenager reluctantly rose from the bed. He gathered his trunk, Toby's sack, and Hedwig's empty cage. Dragging them to the common room, he was joined by his friends; the train would be leaving soon.

He walked ahead of the others, who decided to continue giving him space for now. Harry followed Irma, who took Toby's sack from him, as she led the way outside. Harry must have passed many recognisable faces, but he saw none of them. The ground and his own feet were all he could focus on during the entire journey across the rubble-covered grounds and through the singed gates.

He halted abruptly when Irma did the same. Looking up, Harry felt another stab of emotion pierce through him.

Severus stood irritably nearby, with Toby's hand clutched firmly in his own. The child looked even more miserable than Harry felt. Glad his friends had hung back, Harry approached them. He knelt in front of his brother and placed a hand on Toby's shoulder, as many had done for him that day. The six-year-old angrily shrugged it off, and refused to look at Harry. Sighing, the teenager backed away, and watched as Irma handed the sack to Severus. It was shrunk and pocketed. Severus looked down at the sulking boy, whose face was smeared with tear trails.

The man glanced once more at Harry, then bent to pick up the child.

As Harry watched Severus lift the upset boy into his arms, he felt both jealously and relief mix through him. Toby wrapped his small arms around the man's neck, and for a moment everything look natural. Harry easily saw a father and son - disregarding the scowling look on Snape's face, of course.

In a blink, they were gone.

'That was a very brave thing you just did, Harry.' Irma finally spoke, as Harry's friends caught up with him.

Hermione and Ron, who hadn't gone home with his family in loyalty to staying with Harry, stood awkwardly by the sidelines. They had never felt so out of touch with their best friend's life, and hoped he would come back to them so they could be the famous trio they had once been.

'What do you mean?' Harry looked at his grandmother.

'The potion was ready when you got the final ingredient.' Irma recalled, mindful of nearby ears. 'You were gone for almost an hour. You took a sample for yourself first, didn't you?'

'Yes.' Harry sighed, thinking he'd been more discreet than he had. 'The results were the same.'

'I suspected as much.' Irma nodded.

She placed a hand on his shoulder with more warmth than she had before.

'Harry, you have to go back to Privet Drive now. But don't forget that it will be for the very last time. You have family. You have people who love you. I, for one, am not going to make the same mistakes I did before.'

'What do you mean?' Harry looked at her, confused.

'My son needed me, and I wasn't there for him.' Irma said. 'My grandson has tough times ahead of him now - I am going to be there to support and help him the entire way.'

She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Irma placed her hand to his cheek and smiled, then nodded towards the path leading to Hogsmeade Station.

'Go along, Harry.' Irma insisted. 'We'll meet again soon.'

Harry had leaned to her affection when she'd kissed him, feeling a warmth spread through him from the loving familial contact of his grandmother. He closed his eyes and cherished the moment, then nodded and moved to walk away.

Halting, he turned back to her and inhaled a breath.

'I want to change my name.' He revealed. 'Harry James Prince. How can I do that?'

'I'll look into it.' Irma nodded with a proud smile. 'Now go on or you'll miss your train.'

'Thanks.' Harry smiled. 'Bye!' He waved. Harry clutched his trunk and cage, quickly turning to catch up with his friends.

'Is that what you were talking about, when you said there were things you weren't ready to tell us?' Hermione couldn't wait to ask, as they loaded their luggage onto the train.

'Some of it.' Harry nodded. 'I promise I'll tell you everything, but right now I just need to deal with it all.'

'We're here to listen, whenever you're ready.' Ron said.

'Thanks.' Harry nodded. 'I really appreciate it. I know I've been acting weird lately, but so much happened at once and I don't how I feel about it yet.'

He looked up when he heard a screech, glad to see Hedwig soar towards him. He raised his arm and let her perch on his shoulder. She remained there while he boarded the train, then hopped onto the seat beside him. While Hedwig preened bent and slightly singed feathers, Harry sat by the window to stare at the moving scenery outside. Ginny and Neville soon joined them, alongside Luna, and by then Harry had begun to explain that Toby was Snape's son.

'How did you know?' Hermione gasped.

'He did look a bit weird, like Snape.' Ron frowned. 'But so do you, come to think of it.'

'Thanks, Ron.' Harry rolled his eyes, knowing Ron still thought Snape looked like a greasy git even if what he'd witnessed during the war proved otherwise about the factual side of the statement.

'I'm here for you, mate.' Ron repeated, with a teasing smile.

'Can you believe it's really over?' Ginny said quietly, after a moment of awkward silence beought on by Harry repelling questions regarding how he'd known the truth about Toby and any involvement their librarian had in the situation.

'School. Our childhood. The war.' She sighed, staring through the window. 'It all happened so suddenly.'

'Most things ends eventually. That's how they start over again.' Luna said. 'If nothing finishes, nothing new can begin. I think a lot of things have changed, more than ended. It gives us a chance to watch new things form together, in ways they couldn't be before.'

'When a plant dies, a new one takes its place.' Neville added with a shrug, trying to simplify what Luna had said. 'Voldemort's dead, but we haven't heard the end of the war yet. There are still Death Eaters out there, and we're still grieving.'

'I can't believe in a few months the school term starts again.' Ron shook his head. 'After everything that happened there.'

'I'll be going back, of course.' Hermione shared. 'I want to finish my seventh year. I think it's very important for us to finish our education, even with everything that's happened.'

'I agree.' Luna nodded. 'I still have many new things to learn from Hogwarts. And the classes, of course.'

'I'll be going back too.' Ginny said. 'I don't know why, but I think it's the right thing to do.'

'Count me out.' Ron complained, which was instantly argued by Hermione. 'What about you Neville? Harry?'

'I don't know.' Neville admitted. 'I think so. I want to pass my NEWTS so I can become an auror. Someone has to stop the rest of the Death Eaters, and those like them.'

All eyes fell to Harry.

He shrugged, and turned to stare through the glass panes of his window again. His thoughts were far away from Hogwarts or the war. Instead, he pictured a six-year-old face smiling up at him with adoration and trust, which then formed into one of hurt and betrayal. He could still hear his brother's cries and pleas, even while Harry knew Toby would be better with their father than at Privet Drive, or anywhere else. He just hoped Severus would take very good care of the boy. He was sure he could, with the capacity to love that Harry had seen in the man's memories.

He had returned the vial of memories to both Tonks and Snape, and was now left entirely with his own.

'I don't get why you have to go back to those bloody Muggles.' Ron grumbled. 'It's not fair!'

'I know why.' Harry said quietly. 'Dumbledore explained it to me yesterday.'

'What did he say?' Hermione prompted.

'That sometimes to know where we're going, we have to look back at where we've been.' Harry said.

He continued to stare at the green landscape outside his compartment window, directly to his left.

'I don't know what to do now. My whole life was about winning the war, and now...I don't know. I hate it there, and I don't ever want to see them again, but Dumbledore is right. I need to go back.' He frowned.

'Well, promise you'll write every day.' Hermione insisted.

'And let us know if we need to come rescue you.' Ron added. He'd said it as a joke, though there was a serious undertone to it.

'Of course.' Harry chuckled.

'And don't forget about the wedding.' Ginny added. 'Remus and Tonks put it off because of the war. You're still their best man, right?'

'Yeah.' Harry smiled. A tiny ray of hope sparked in his mind, and was briefly ashamed for having forgotten about the wedding.

'It's in August.' Hermione added.

Harry nodded, shifting his focus to look at his reflection against the mirror instead of the world beyond the glass. He noticed his black strands of hair, so similar to his father, and the emerald eyes from his mother. He didn't know what it meant to be a Potter, as he'd never really known them. Even now, he didn't know what it meant to be a Snape either. That's why he wanted to change his name to Prince, after his grandmother's family line.

He'd done a bit of research, since finding out the undeniable truth, and Harry rather liked the sound of the bloodline. They were exceptionally well known for their potions skills too, which Harry was pleased to read. He found he had a lot of things in common with his new-found family, and it was something he'd never really had before.

Not since he'd looking into the mirror of erised in his first year.

Harry knew Toby had a lot in common with the bloodline as well. He hoped his little brother would forgive him one day for not trying harder to stay with him. He hoped the boy was okay, and that they would see each again soon. He had no idea what Snape planned to do now, though Harry didn't have the mental energy to worry about more than he already had to think about. His entire future was optionally set out before him, and the teenager had no sense of direction or ambition towards it.

He wondered, very briefly, if Draco felt the same way.

When the Hogwarts Express slowed at King's Cross Station, Harry was already on his feet and preparing to leave the train.

He placed a reluctant Hedwig into her cage, then grabbed hold of it and his trunk. Stepping down onto the platform, Harry was reminded of the day he'd hid Toby under his cloak; it looked just as vacant. There weren't many there to greet them, and even less exited the train. He wanted to believe it was because most students had already gone home after the war, rather than think sadly on the ones who would never go home again.

'Promise you'll write?' Hermione repeated while giving him a big hug.

'I promise.' Harry nodded.

'I'll talk to Mum, see if you can come stay with us for your Birthday.' Ron said with determination.

'Thanks.' Harry said, giving him a hug as well.

He shyly embraced Ginny, then hugged Luna, and even Neville. He felt so thankful for his friends, and was tremendously relieved they had all survived the terrible war that cost the lives of so many others.

'I don't think you need to worry too much, Harry.' Luna told him moments before they all parted. 'I've always said that those things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. But, of course, some of them never really leave at all – we just think they do. Have a happy summer, Harry.'

'Er, thanks, Luna.' He said. 'Bye - I mean, you too.'

Harry stood there and waved, watching Luna and her father reunite. He saw Neville's grandmother giving him a big hug, and Hermione receiving the save from her parents. And who could miss the crowd of red-headed Weasleys? Sighing, with no one to greet him with such warmth and relief, Harry turned to depart through the magical barrier, and wandered along the Muggle station.

Stepping outside, Harry looked towards the sky in fond memory of riding a flying car to Hogwarts.

Instead, he would be sitting uncomfortably in the back seat of a car that would never leave the gravel road it drove along. Even if it could have flown, Harry was sure the weight of his uncle and cousin would be enough to keep it grounded, regardless.

'Hello.' Harry said uncomfortably when he spotted his relatives standing nearby.

'Back again, are you?' Vernon grunted. 'Thought we'd seen the last of you.'

'People are staring.' Petunia hissed, trying to urge them along.

She looked nervously around the area. Many people gazed at Harry with amazement, though the teenager tried to ignore them, and ducked his head. He wished black strands of hair were long enough to better conceal his face – though it had grown on the train ride with his desire to be hidden from everything around him.

Petunia paused at the sight of Harry, as though seeing her nephew for the first time, and raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

The teenager miserably placed his trunk into the boot of the car. He moved to squeeze into the back seat with Hedwig's cage resting on his lap. She gave a screech of discomfort, which he shared, but both were used to the summer journey back to the place they considered their prison.

'I heard you beat Moldy-whatsit.' Dudley spoke for the first time since Harry returned to London. 'I heard some funny folk talking about it.'

'Yeah.' Harry nodded. 'I had help, though.' He was surprised by his cousin, who usually sneered and shoved him more than anything.

'About ruddy time.' Vernon said from the front seat.

'What do you know about it?' Harry frowned dubiously.

'Not much.' Dudley shrugged his large shoulders.

'Your headmaster wrote to us.' Petunia shared timidly. 'So it's true, it's over?'

'Yes.' Harry looked out the window, wishing it was as clear and interesting as the one on the train. 'As much as a war can be. Lots of people died – kids younger than me. It was a bloody mess.'

To their credit, the Dursleys didn't say else, even when they arrived at Privet Drive.

Harry got out and gathered his trunk, expecting to have it snatched from him like every summer. Vernon looked ready to do so, but stopped, and turned to storm into the house. Harry didn't like how things were going – his relatives were acting a bit out of sort to him, as though he wasn't the only one who had gone through some personal changes over the last year.

'Wait.'

Harry paused at the doorway, where only he and his aunt remained. Dudley hurried towards the television, and Vernon went to the kitchen. The teenager glanced at Petunia, but she avoided looking at him.

'He's dead? The one who...'

Harry, rather guiltily, suddenly realised what she was really asking him.

In all the years he'd grown up there, under the uncaring relatives who seemed to hate him at every turn, he'd forgotten something so easily overlooked. He'd lost more than just a mother and a father, so many years ago - his aunt had lost a sister. Through Snape's memories, he knew the two sisters had once been close, but Lily's magic is what separated them. Surely there had been at least one moment when Petunia had been saddened by Lily's death as well?

Harry liked to think so.

'Yes.' Harry nodded firmly. 'I lived because she refused to stand aside, and Voldemort killed her. He's gone now. I stopped him; he can't ever hurt someone again.'

'Good.' Petunia nodded, then sighed. 'Well, get in!' She snapped. 'No use in standing around when there's dishes to wash.'

'Yes, Aunt Petunia.' Harry huffed.

They hadn't taken his trunk yet, Harry noticed as he entered the house. He hurriedly made for the stairs in hope of keeping it with him during the summer.

He stashed his most important items in the hidden floorboards of his room, just in case. When he unloaded clothes and books, Harry felt something lightweight slip onto the floor. He peered over at it and stared, shocked he had completely forgotten its existence until then. Harry didn't have time to treasure it, as he heard Vernon's heavy footsteps ascending the stairs. He snatched the item and quickly hid it away.

Harry slammed his trunk shut, and jumped back when his uncle burst into the room.

'Can't have you doing any freakiness in this house.' Vernon growled, grabbed the handle of the trunk. 'You may have been through a war, boy, but here we won't tolerate any of your lot's nonsense.'

'Yes, Uncle Vernon.' Harry repeated dutifully.

'Your aunt told you to clean the dishes!' Vernon reminded him as he left the room.

Harry, irritated that he had to stay at Privet Drive when he had a real family elsewhere, kicked at his bedpost. Grumbling, he made his way downstairs, and spent an hour doing chores.

Mostly, he was blissfully ignored by the Dursleys.

-- 

Harry retreated to his poor excuse of a bedroom, and sank against the feeble mattress. He listened to his relatives moving around downstairs, knowing they were preparing to watch a movie on the television. They'd be busy for several hours, so Harry was almost guaranteed to be left alone during that time.

He held the special piece of parchment in his hands, and wondered if he could dare to use it again.

He'd had it since Christmas, and Harry continued to treasure it for the gift he convinced himself it was. He longed for some contact with his father, which Toby now had an unlimited supply of. Harry used the back of his Charms textbook, which sat on his lap, as a makeshift table. He reached for a spare bottle of blue ink, and one of his well-used quills. The teenager poised the quill over the parchment for a while, considering what to say.

He decided to reclaim what he'd once shared with the man, with hardly any consider for any previous caution he'd exhibited. 

Are you okay, Sir?' 

It wasn't the best thing he could think of, but Harry had never received a solid answer to the question. He'd asked it many times, mostly when Snape was still in the Hospital Wing, but the man had refused to offer him any reassurance.

Maybe if he wouldn't tell Harry Potter, he might answer S.J.E?

Harry was worried about the man. Knowing Snape was his father only caused Harry to feel further concerned for his once-hated Professor's well-being. A part of him wondered how he had ever hated Snape at all, especially after witnessing the memories the man had stretched his dying breath to show him. 

Yes. 

Are you coping? 

A rush of relief flooded Harry, knowing his father was indeed okay and was seemingly recovering well.

Retracing the words with his emerald gaze, Harry could only stare at the reply for several minutes. He re-read it to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Any initial surprise soon faded when he once again recalled images of nine-year-old Severus and Lily lying on the grass together. Harry remembered Snape's face during her sorting, and the way the man had cried when he'd seen her fallen form in Godric's Hollow.

A year ago, Harry, like so many others, would have said Snape was the man least capable of love. Now, he felt ashamed for ever thinking something so horribly untrue. Underlining the sadness and understanding, Harry felt his respect for his father increase. The emerging pride Harry felt, for being the son of such a brave man, began to blossom. 

I don't know. I'm sad and angry, but most of all I'm confused. I don't know what to do now. 

What are you going to do, Sir? 

Harry stared, waiting for a reply, and felt nervous when none came.

Maybe Snape didn't know what the future held for him either? 

We do not have to decide right now. 

Of everything the war has taken from us, there is one thing it has given back: time itself. We have time to decide, and time to ease the sadness, anger, and confusion. In time, you'll know precisely where you want to go and how to get there. 

Harry read each word carefully.

He felt a strange weight lift from his mind, realising his father was right. He hugged the parchment to his chest, thinking about how relieved he was to have it. Laying back on his bed, Harry sighed as a wave of tiredness washed over him. He hadn't gotten a lot of sleep lately. When he did close his eyes, Harry kept seeing bodies or flashes of lights.

Yawning, the teenager hid his parchment within the floorboards once again. He removed his glasses, and rolled onto his side to face his bedroom wall.

Though he warily closed his eyes, Harry had a rather restful sleep that night.

--

'Up!' The voice of his aunt was accompanied by rude rapping against his door. 'Get up!'

Harry sat upright in his bed, and glanced around the sunlit space of his small room. It felt strange to be back at Privet Drive, as Harry swung his legs over the edge of his bed and yawned.

The war was almost like a long dream – it had come and gone.

Harry changed into some of Dudley's cast-office, which he really hated wearing, and wandered across the hall to the bathroom. Yawning again, without any certainty of what time it was, Harry quickly showered and brushed his teeth. He'd been careful with the hot water, having used only enough to not freeze, though the mirror fogged up regardless.

Intending to brush his hair, which was more manageable than it had ever been in his life, Harry wiped the fog away with his palm. He offered his reflection a small smile, rather liking his appearance. It wasn't too different, but his black hair reaching about his ears, and paler face, had given him a new perspective of himself.

He leaned a bit closer when he noticed his emerald eyes were brighter than ever, and soon realised why. Narrowing his eyes, Harry reached to gently touch his face. His rounded glasses had been left on his bedside table, and until now Harry hadn't even noticed.

The teenager closed his eyes, and reopened them. He saw clearer than he ever had, though distant shapes still blurred if he focused for too long.

'Harry Potter!' Vernon's voice boomed up the stairs.

'Coming, Uncle Vernon!' Harry called back, having been startled by the sound he should have expected.

He hurried back to his room to retrieve his glasses, and slipped them over his nose. Harry dashed along the hallway, and almost tripped on the top step of the stairs in his rush. He took two steps at a time, wondering what he had supposedly done this time, and skidded to a halt at the bottom.

'What?' Harry asked.

His uncle stood by the open door of the house, looking considerably more sour than usual while staring at Harry, but didn't answer. The teenager creased his expression with confusion, and moved sideways to see why the door was open. He was startled to realise he had a visitor.

'Hello, Harry.' Irma offered him a smile, though even Vernon could tell it was forced.

She glanced at the beefy man, then looked around the pair to spot Petunia peering rudely at them from the kitchen.

'What are you doing here?' Harry's heart skipped faster.

He hadn't expected to see a member of his real family so soon, and it caused a flutter of happiness to dance through his stomach.

'Did you find out about changing my name?'

'Yes.' Irma nodded. 'And I was wondering if you'd like to join me for lunch in London, so we can discuss it?'

'Yeah, I-' Harry stopped.

His fluttering joy dissipated slightly, as he turned to look nervously at Vernon. The Dursleys were surely allergic to give Harry anything he wanted, which could make him even slightly happy, yet the teenager was determined to try.

'May I go, please?'

'Better there than here.' Vernon grunted with blunt annoyance.

Harry felt he shouldn't be too surprise, as his relatives were always keen to have him out of sight and to be someone else's “problem” for a while.

Even so, he couldn't believe his incredible luck when his uncle granted him permission.

'Thanks!' Harry threw over his shoulder as he left the house.

He gave his grandmother a proper greeting, by wrapping his arms around her for a quick hug.

His action startled her, though she draped an arm around the boy's shoulders and nudged him towards the end of the street. She briefly recalled the look on her son's face, at the age of eight, when they'd left the neighbourhood for a rare treat of spending an afternoon in a park for a small picnic.

'Where are we going?' Harry wanted to know.

'There's a little tea shop not far from here.' Irma said. She took a moment to disapprove of his clothes, though pressed her lips into a thin line and didn't comment. 'I hope it's still there. Your mother and I used to go there sometimes. I think you'll like it.'

'How did you know where I lived?' Harry wondered when they reached a bus stop.

He was surprised she wanted to travel the Muggle way, but supposed she was still very familiar with the non-magical world.

'Dumbledore, of course.' Irma said, leading the way onto a red double-decker bus.

She paid for their tickets, and gestured for them to sit at the very back of the upper deck. Harry, in memory that she'd once not had a lot of money, wanted to buy his own ticket. He didn't have any Muggle money with him, however, and doubted a golden Galleon would be much help in the Muggle world.

He sat by the window to watch the cars and people pass by.

It wasn't a long journey, but Harry relished it because each turn of the tyres took him further away from the Dursleys. He hadn't been back at Privet Drive for even a full day, and still he longed for the freedom a simple lunch in London could provide him. He glanced at his grandmother, and thought she looked rather peaceful as well. 

They didn't speak much, until they stepped inside the tea shop.

Harry listened carefully to what Irma was telling him about how some days she and Lily had tea together, though infrequently. He could tell his grandmother still thought fondly of those short visits even after all the years that passed. He tried not to hold the tea shop's pink and flowery appearance against it, knowing his mother had liked it too.

If only for her, Harry thought it looked okay.

Harry and Irma sat at a booth near a large window. It wasn't until the teenager had eaten both of his ham sandwiches that Irma finally got down to business.

'Now, your name.' She said. 'I don't anticipate there to be any trouble getting it Legalised with the Ministry, given your status as the war hero Boy-Who-Lived.'

Irma sipped some tea before she continued, while Harry was glad his status was finally helping him rather than drowning him in attention he doesn't want.

'However,' Irma frowned. 'There is a matter of the name itself.'

'I think it's alright.' Harry said defensively, assuming she was making a comment on it being a bad name. 'I can honour both my dads, and belong to a whole bloodline of family. I get to keep my initials too.'

'Yes, it's a perfectly strong name.' Irma nodded, waving off his concerns. 'I suspected you wouldn't know, that's why I brought you here to explain. If you wanted your surname to be Evans or Snape, there would be no need for us to have this conversation. Prince, however - that is a pure bloodline. You have every right to claim the name for yourself, as you are rightfully one of us. But, before you do, I think there's something you need to see.'

'What is it?' Harry looked around, expecting the tea shop to be even more important than he's originally realised.

'Not here.' Irma rolled her eyes. 'Are you finished?'

'Yes.' Harry stood quickly. 'Where is it? What do you want to show me?'

Irma didn't answer right away.

She paid for their meal, and led the teenager back outside onto the relatively busy street filled with Muggles going about their usual business. Irma likely looked a bit odd in her old-fashioned, dark attire, though it lacked any obvious robes or a cloak. She offered the crowd no attention, only glancing at Harry for a moment in surprise towards his sudden eagerness. She tried not to analyse it too much, as he had to go back to Privet Drive regardless, and directed him to an alley several blocks away.

This time, she did apparate them to their next destination. 

Irma waited patiently, as Harry took a moment to ease his stomach from the magical transportation he despised.

'Whoa.' Harry stared at the wrought iron gates towering over him, once he'd straightened and taken in its appearance.

He saw the word “Prince” formed into the top center of the bannered frame above the gates. He stepped closer and held the vertical, metal bars with each hand. He looked through them at the massive space of lush green grass, which led to a large house. It wasn't enormous, yet was easily big enough to have the entire Dursley's house as a single room.

'This is the smallest property owned by the Prince family.' Irma shared, amused by his reaction. Looking away from her grandson, her face turned serious as she too took in the sight of the house through the bars. The gate was the only place they could use to see within, as the entire property was bordered by a solid stone wall.

To Harry, it was fresh and wondrous. To Irma, it was darkened like the memories it cast through her.

'This is the smallest one?' Harry uttered with disbelief.

'Yes. There are also several manors and larger estates.' Irma sighed. 'This house was left to me, but I was unable to obtain it. I was forsaken from the family tree when I married Tobias Snape. Severus tried to claim it when he turned of age, but he too was rejected. I believe it was because of the Dark Mark. The Prince family, as blood fanatic as they were, did not endorse the widespread suffering of others.'

'Could I claim it?' Harry wondered curiously. 'I don't really want it. I mean, it's nice and all, but it's so big! Could I, though, if I wanted to? And if no one minded.'

'I don't know.' Irma whispered, looking away. 'It's promising that you can even touch the gate. It first officially belonged to my great-aunt. When she passed, I believe one of my cousins claimed it until a few years ago. He was quite the Quidditch fan, so I imagine he had some sort of sports field added to it.' Irma said.

Harry gripped the bars tighter, hoisting himself higher on his toes to try and seen if there was a Quidditch field on the grounds, but his view was far too limited and most of the sight was taken up by the front lawn and house.

Irma, however, was very wary of being near the gates – she even tucked her hands behind her back as an added precaution.

'I brought you here because I wanted to you at least see it.' Irma explained. 'Taking on the Prince name will magically, and officially, place you on our family tree. This is something that may not go unnoticed by others – those of pureblood standing who have access to such information. Your name will automatically grant you recognition in the Potioneering field - the Prince bloodline is worldly recognised for their talents. It can be quite a responsibility for someone your age.'

Harry considered her words, while still staring at the pale-coloured stone house.

He wished he could have a look around, to explore a place filled with his own family history. He'd never even see his former home at Godric's Hollow, or the place near Spinner's End. This was the closest he'd come to a place where he could learn about his ancestors. His family. Harry understood what Irma was warning him of, since he hadn't liked being so famous just because of his name or scar, but being a Prince felt like a huge honour. Surviving a curse when he was just an infant, which had cost the lives of his parents, had only ever been a curse to him. Being a member of an incredible magical bloodline was an entirely different concept – it was a blessing.

Harry only hoped he could live up to it.

'I still want to change my name.' Harry said confidently. 'I am a Prince. I want people to know that. I want to honour it.'

Irma smiled at his words. She nodded, not feeling the need to say anything, and glanced at the time. A frown covered her face, and she sighed.

'I should get you back.' Irma told him sadly. 'I wish I didn't have to. Those Dursleys clearly aren't as doting as others implied. I would take you in for the summer, but I have absolutely nowhere we could stay.'

'They don't like me much at all.' Harry felt dread replace his enlightenment. He slipped his hands from the metal bars, and stepped away from the gate. 'Can we come back here again? I would like to see it some more.'

'One day.' Irma said with an air of uncertain promise. She placed a hand on his shoulder, using her grip to steer the reluctant teenager away from the property's tall gates. 'I hope to show it to Toby as well.'

'How is he?' Harry quickly asked.

They walked onto the vacant road, and all thoughts of the Prince House faded from Harry's mind.

'Where are they?'

'I don't-' Irma's words were cut off by a sudden gust of wind.

They both felt the sensation of magic, and turned around backwards to detect the cause.

The black iron gates were joined in the center by a silver lock, which suddenly glowed a very bright blue. The light spread, like veins across the entire gate, and turned the gate itself a silvery tone. With an explosive SNAP sound, the lock crumbled. With a shuddering creak, the gates gradually swung open. They came to a halt, replacing the sense of guarded privacy with an inviting entrance.

The pair stared motionless at the scene. Irma swallowed, and looked over at Harry with wide eyes.

'What happened?' The teenager wondered nervously.

'The house recognised you as the heir.' Irma said, disbelieving.

'I've claimed the house?' Harry blinked. 'But, I didn't realise. I didn't...'

'No, not claimed it.' Irma shook her head. 'However, you're invited within. After all these years, it's open to residence again. You truly are a Prince.'

'So...' Harry slowly, hesitantly, looked to his grandmother. 'Now we have somewhere to stay for the summer?'

Many things had ended in the past four days, but now Harry could look to the Prince house with hope for a new beginning. Luna was right; Harry thought he'd lost his family, but the house had been there all along...Waiting.

Irma did not share his enthusiasm. She was doubtful about having another youngster in her care, after how poorly she'd done last time, even if Harry was almost of age. The hope shining in his emerald eyes, and her lingering promise to be there when he needed her, won over all her fears and initial hesitation.

'Yes, Harry.' Irma nodded with an uncertain smile. 'Indeed we do.'