For now though I ask that you be nice; it's been a while since I've written HP fanfiction and I do admit I'm a bit rusty. Just a reminder; the Prologue is half the length of normal chapters and I might be a bit slow on the update. Please enjoy; any questions can be directed to me in a review if you wish.     

"I could not love except when Death mingled with Beauty's breath." ~ Edgar Allan Poe

 Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Year 2018

    19 years had indefinitely passed since the great Hogwarts Battle; 18 since the disappearance of Harry James Potter and 17 since the arrival of the shy, soft spoken and sorrowful ghost that had attached itself to the potions classroom in the dungeons. Since the constant fights between the Bloody Baron and Nearly Headless Nick that broke out; Professor McGonagall now the Headmistress of Hogwarts had no choice but assign a new ghost to the honour of leading the Slytherins and protecting them from beyond the grave and keeping a watchful eye out for abused and suicidal children. The young ghost who was often jokingly referred to as the 'Weeping Serpent Child' because of the immaculate robes the boy had been wearing when he died and was often the cause of much scrutiny as to his identity. 

    Black and silver wizarding robes of the finest silk often flickered and swayed to the soft spoken teen's unsure movements. Dark eyes; the colour often dulled  by silver tears were a difficult colour to distinguish but when one really looked past the stylish black rimmed glassed the distinct colour of emerald green smattered with flecks of pitch stared back with the wisdom not even Dumbledore had been able to show. The teen's hair was darker than midnight; its fine strands shimmering in the ghostly silver light that often surrounded him. Messily cut locks framed a boyish face and nose that was slightly crooked. As if had been broken but not set right. When someone inquired about his death the young man merely smiled softly and hid from sight; but despite his shyness and frightened demeanour he was gentle and loving to those who opened up to him.

    "Young Master Snape; your attendance is required to be present at the Great Hall for the arrival of the new first years." McGonagall said softly after having finally cornered the young ghost late that afternoon on the 1st of September. She was well aware of the silvery blood staining the dungeons grounds beneath the ghosts hovering form. The strict Headmistress' dissipation towards ghosts in general changed the moment she approached the young teen; something about his demeanour and loving heart was one of the few good things that survived from after the war almost twenty years ago.

     "Yes Professor." A strong voice said; bowing to her in respect before floating off into the Potion's classroom.

     "Oh and Harry;" The Professor called out softly; those endless emotion filled eyes catching hers as the ghost turned back around. A small smile passing his pale lips.

     "You know you can come to me if you need anything."

     "Yes Professor; I know." Harry said softly. Once again turning to head to the classroom only to be stopped by her voice again.

     "One last thing; Harry." Harry nodded his head and faced her the last time with a gentle but masked an irritated smile underneath.

     "Professor Snape will be here tonight." At those simple words Harry found great comfort; his green eyes sparkled lightly and his mouth twisted into a genuine smile of happiness. He hadn't seen his father for many months now and now when he was finally able to Harry could barely contain his happiness. It didn't matter if he was dead; he could still see Severus Snape. The man who not only saved his life since he had entered Hogwarts many, many years ago but also became the only true family he had left. When Harry had been forced to watch his father get ruthlessly attacked by Nagini - out of Voldemort's anger at the Elder Wand not working for him. Harry had lost it; somehow having the strength to confront the man whilst managing to literally kill him on the spot where he stood along with that infuriating snake. Severus Snape survived to tell the tale but it had been Harold Barnaby Slytherin - Snape that had died that night. It had been merely two years after finding his true place in the world beside a loving father.

     "Thank you Professor McGonagall; I look forward to seeing him again." Harry said softly; with a final smile he pushed himself forward and into the Potions classroom. There was a reason why he was always in the dungeon and it was because he was waiting for the return of Professor Snape. Out of the whole castle; only the staff knew who he really was and what he was doing there. Like Professor McGonagall; she was always there to make sure he was still alright in the castle when no one else was around. Sometimes Harry could be found in the small graveyard just outside the castle doors; it was where he was buried after all and sometime he felt as if it gave him some comfort rather than wondering aimlessly. Just like very little people knew of his true inheritance; to the world he was known as Harry James Potter but in reality he was but a shy and brilliant child with the true name of Harold Barnaby Snape. A child that was often underestimated until he truly got to know his father.

     The classroom door shut behind his drifting form. He himself didn't remember much about his own death only that after a while of drifting through a painless purgatory that he had ended up back at the castle of Hogwarts. He was happy in both life and death and too content to make a move to return to the true spiritual realm.

      Harry didn't like when he was surrounded by so much happiness; all that the classroom greeted him with now was the silence of many months of neglect and underuse. Harry knew that if he were to cross into the room behind the classroom he would be inside his father's study and some ways further down the hall and next to the Slytherin Dormitories was the private quarters of the Head of House. Wandering the halls gave Harry much time to ponder his life and current death but nothing seemed to stop him from finding any regrets besides the many deaths he had caused and the subsequent pain he had put himself through. There was a reason why his eyes were so much darker and filled with more wisdom than Professor Dumbledore's had held; it was because Harry had learned from a very early age that abuse and neglect can often break a child and make him into a man before the age of ten. A wary disposition towards the world that Harry knew all too well. Understood too well and also lived through a little too badly. 

     But it was the deaths of those close to him that ate away at his happiness; like Sirius, Remus, Lilly Potter and even James Potter - even though the man wasn't his real father - Harry still mourned for them all. It was that sadness that was always impressed upon him; making his shoulders droop as dark and unforgiving he was towards himself - Harry forgave everyone else that had caused him just as he had forgiven his father for always treating him as if he was truly hated by the man.

~~~~

     Harry sat wistfully at an unoccupied seat at the Slytherin table; a sorrowful smile spreading across his lips as he watched all the students walked into the Great Hall -some he recognized others he did not. Despite him being a ghost most children avoided him in favour of speaking to their friends but it was strange that no one ever dared to chase him away from his chair when he had finally chosen it. This time; Harry sat where he knew he could see his father when he finally arrived. Excitement was building in his stomach as he watched the Sorting with a strange detachment. 

      "Hello." A small voice whispered; dragging Harry from his thoughts abruptly. Turning his full attention towards the person who had called out to him; Harry started softly at first. Dark blue eyes; filled with turmoiled emotions and uncertainty was a small glimpse into the child's personality. It was eyes that Harry knew very well; eyes that belonged to the Malfoy family just as that hair was a platinum blonde that Harry had also known for many, many years.

    "Ah; a Malfoy." Harry said softly. "What's your name little one?" Harry asked; it was strange that this child seemed to be more comfortable talking to a ghost than the other children around them.

    "Scorpius. How'd you know my family name?" He was definitely a curious one; definitely better suited for Ravenclaw Harry thought to himself. He could also see the spark of intelligence in those eyes that indicated this child knew far more than his age permitted. It was the sad light that startled Harry a bit but he would talk to his father about it later.

     "Hmm; let's see. I knew your father. A misguided man but he had a good heart in the end." Harry said solemnly.

     "You knew my father? Can you tell me...?" The youngster was getting animated and excited; Harry smirked crookedly - he was a very excitable child but Harry couldn't help but feel something just a bit off about his shy behaviour. With the admiration he showed at the mention of his father's name; Harry didn't think it was Draco that made him like that. Someone else; perhaps his grandfather?

     "Of course; Draco and I were constant rivals that often tore this castle apart more than we kept the peace." Harry reminisced happily. Launching into stories that he could still grasp onto that would lighten the mood the child seemed to carry around him.

     "What's your name?" The blond haired child asked excitedly after hearing some of the stories he had always wanted to hear but was too scared to ask about. His grandfather didn't like prying into the past but this ghost seemed nice enough to tell him much he didn't know himself. It was only courteous to ask for his name...

     "Harold Barnaby Snape; but you can call me Harry." The ghost replied. He had forgotten how missed being able to just talk to someone without having to scare them or scold them for sneaking out of bed after curfew.

     "Harry; like Harry Potter?" The young child asked in awe and Harry laughed but gave a small but almost indistinguishable nod; luckily Scorpius hadn't seen it because the Headmistress was making her announcement for the year and the blond had found something better to look at. The Head of Slytherin House had just arrived. Harry stilled momentarily before he smiled at his father; getting a curt nod and a gentle flash in dark eyes in greeting. It seemed that even though many months had passed his father hadn't changed much; his pitch black hair was neat but already the potions fumes made it greasier and if Harry looked really hard he could see his father had a grey streak running through most of his long bangs. He chuckled; most likely the older man had put up much of fuss over that little fact. 

     "Good Evening new students and old; the Slytherin house is aptly named after the great Salazar Slytherin who was one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor Snape; your Head of House and also your Potions Master. If you'd follow me I'd show you to your dorms; the prefects had been called to a meeting. Any questions above what I am going to tell you can either be addressed to me or to the Slytherin Ghost; Young Master Harold here."  Snape pointed to the hovering form that was a little behind him. Harry smiled and lifted his hand in greeting; when his father waved his hand Harry knew that that was his queue to leave them be in the common room whilst Severus told them about the house rules. Harry smiled and headed for his father's quarters. They had much to talk about. 

    "It's been a while; Harry." A smooth voice interrupted said teen's thoughts; causing the younger one to turn around. Mindfully aware that his mortal wound was dripping silvery blood onto his father's most loved carpet in his private chambers.

     "Hello father; I'm glad to see you again." Harry said happily; not caring that he was now claiming the dark velvet couch as his own. His father's dark eyes were observing him again with that 'look'. The look that was buried in guilt, pain and deep regret. With a sigh; Harry adjusted his black rimmed glasses with uncertain fingers before he turned back towards Severus Snape. Moving as close to the Potions Master without touching him as Harry knew it caused other people discomfort to be touched by something colder than ice and filled with more emotions of regret than a Weasley that had stolen a cookie out of the cookie jar when they weren't supposed to.

     "Stop it." Harry said firmly. "I did what I did for you; for my friends and most of all for myself. I know you feel guilty for not being able to save me back then Father; but you know very well that I did it for everyone." Harry said; his tone holding a dangerous quality that neither brooked any form of argument or denial of his words.

     "But as my son I should have..." Harry sighed at the words. Flicking his messy black bangs over his shoulder; a dangerous pout crossing his lips unconsciously.

     "Yes, as your son - Severus Snape - I did what I was supposed to do. I did what I was destined to do." Harry said with a finality of acceptance. He had long ago come to terms with his death but never once did Harry blame his father for so much as a second. Within moments the proud Potions Master deflated at those words; even when Harry knew his father had not excepted the explanation he had won the argument for now. Harry hurried back to his favourite seat as he curled up on the couch; his father picking a book from the shelf to his left before placing it on the low coffee table. Opening it on a new chapter before sliding it over to the sprawled ghost on his couch. It was a ritual between father and son; a sort of truce and offering. Even as a ghost Harry couldn't pick up the book himself but he had enough energy to flip pages and read.

     "Thanks." Harry whispered; his glasses now being wiped on silk robes to clean the lenses of blood both father and son knew was there from the final fight. Placing them back on his nose he turned his head towards the book; his mouth parting slightly as he started reading over the contents of the book.

      "Potions for the Souls of the Dead. By Eli Watkins..." Harry said ruefully; his green eyes turning towards the dower Potions Master - highly amused at the spark of mischief he saw in those black eyes.

    "Very ironic; don't you think Severus?" Harry dared to use his father's given name. A smile splitting his face as he shook his head. If his father was choosing to be quiet then he would be too. Turning back to his book; both men fell into a comfortable silence. Only the flick of pages disturbed their companionable silence every now and then. The silence was thick with a thousand unspoken words but it was not uncomfortable; merely a comfort of understanding drifted in the air that suggested they had much more time together and that all those many words could fit in their moments together. In time; they would spoken but for now - father and son kept things quiet and simple. 

    "Harry?" After several hours of silence; the youngest of the Snape's looked up. His pitch flecked green eyes connecting with his father's inquisitive eyes.

    "Yes Father?" Harry asked; sitting up from his laying position and memorising his place where he had stopped reading.

    "What do you think of this year's students?" The question was not an uncommon one so Harry let a long ghostly breath escape his lips. He had suspected something more intrusive to his health. 

    "Well; they seem to be fine. I don't detect any true hostility towards each other like we had last year. They seem like a gentle bunch considering this is the true generation of the people who had survived the war; it seems the prejudices has died down somewhat and tonight I saw some interaction between both Slytherin and Gryffindor House as if the legendary rivalry between them doesn't seem to exist anymore." Harry mentioned thoughtfully; he had been wondering since the start of that evening if he had missed the child of Ron and Hermione but Harry couldn't be sure if she would be attending Hogwarts this year. The years that passed seemed to become too insignificant to count. 

    "Well that's good; Albus would have been happy to see the truce last for more than a few years." Harry knew what his father was talking about; he was talking about a friendship between the Houses in the future and not subtly asking Harry to be the mediator.

    "I saw Professor Dumbledore a few days ago." Harry admitted absently; remembering that he had seen the older man in the graveyard - looking solemn in his own death as he counted the headstones of the dead again. It seemed to be all the man did these days. 

    "Oh; what did he say?" Severus Snape asked with curiosity. His son rarely divulged information about his life around the castle when he wasn't around.

    "Nothing;" Harry smirked. Sliding his glassed back up his nose once again. "Just smiled like always did you know. Before my sixth year that is." Harry cringed at the thought and words leaving his mouth; the pain he felt rushing through his nonexistent beating heart was excruciating. He could still remember the sorrowful look as his only grandfather figure was pushed off the Astronomy Tower with no mercy. At that time Harry had hated his father more than anything even when he had been aware of who he was to him. That had not been one of his most like memories.

     "Harry?" Dragging himself back to the present; Harry smiled sorrowfully and rose from his position on the couch. Fingers sneaking beneath his glasses to wipe away the signs of his impending tears. Even ghosts could cry. 

     "Sorry, Father. But I'll better go check on the first years; there's bound to be a few crying this time and maybe I'll go visit the other houses as well. You know how I hate to see other's suffering." Harry admitted; even though he knew he was just running from a painful confrontation.

     "I know Harry; I know. Now run along and don't disappear where I can't find you." Harry chuckled loudly; sometimes his father forgot that he was already dead and couldn't possibly get into more trouble.  And if he so much a wished it; he would truly never be found again. But Harry wouldn't do that.  

~~~~

     The silence in the corridors of Hogwarts was disconcerting. Harry knew that it would be suicidal for the students to already sneak out of their beds in the first week of school. Heading first to the infirmary to see if any students were sick or injured; Harry paid a visit to a grey Madam Pomfrey and her younger apprentice. She would be retiring soon; saying that she was too tired to truly continue her job and Harry understood.

     He smiled as he entered the room; it held so many memories but best of all it held the memory of the day he found out about his true inheritance. That day he had cussed up a storm and denied everything until the changes started and Harry knew he was no longer the child of a Potter but he was truly a Snape. Sitting on one of the free beds; Harry laid back his smile turning into a scowl as he was thrown head first into his memories. Memories he would rather forget but also memories that now meant the world to him even after his own death. The first years would have to wait; Harry thought tiredly.

   Allowing his mind to drift into the distant past he bit back his whimper of both pain and happiness. It had all started a few weeks before he had made the biggest mistake of his life; the Department of Mysteries.