Severus Snape stalked through the Forbidden Forest under a notice-me-not charm, his robes billowing out behind him. He had things to do. He was on a mission.

It was February now and snow heaped the grounds. However, Severus paid little attention it. He was warm enough and he had to get into the castle through a hidden tunnel. The opening was in the forest and ran into the castle and came out within Gryffindor tower. No one knew of it except McGonagall, and she had told him how to access it.

He had to find the youngest Weasley boy.

Severus crept around the area and finally found what he was looking for.

A forked tree with three everlasting mushroom caps at the base of it. Simple enough for those who knew nothing of the passages existence. Severus leaned down and tapped, with his wand, first the middle mushroom, twice, then the right, once, and the left thrice.

And before his eyes, the tree opened only wide enough for him to walk through. He stepped down seven steps and then the tree closed behind him.

“Lumos.”

The path was lit.

Now to find Weasley.

~*~*~*~*~

“Mum?” Harry asked, walking into his parents’ bedroom.

Rosemerta looked up from where she was hanging clothes in their wardrobe and noticed that her son looked pale. She set the hanger she had in her hand down and walked over to Harry, placing her hand on his forehead immediately.

Harry simply stood there and let her do as she wished because he knew, regardless, she would satisfy her nerves before listening to him.

“Are you okay?” there was still a tinge of worry in her voice.

“I am fine, Mum, a bit of a headache is all. I wanted to talk to you.” Harry walked over to his parents’ bed and sat down on his father’s side, kicked off his shoes, and then slid to the middle, drawing his arms and legs up to his chest.

Rosemerta walked over to the bed and sat down and then twisted around so that she sat with her back against the headboard.

“What is wrong, Harry?”

Harry thought for several moments and then looked at her.

“Mum, what do you think really happened to Neville Longbottom’s parents? That was why Aunt Trixie was in Azkaban so what really happened that night? Do you think that Aunt Trixie would tell me?”

Rosemerta stalled for a moment. Why was everything so difficult with her son?

“I do not know what really happened that night, Harry. I do know that Trixie was there, however. Neville was only a few months old at the time and Hermione was due any day.”

“May I ask her? Neville has the right to know the truth when everything is over.”

Rose sighed deeply.

“Harry, Neville does know the truth.”

Harry froze immediately. What was that supposed to mean? Neville did know the truth? Did that mean that Aunt Trixie had tortured the Longbottoms?

“So she did it?” Harry screeched, enraged at the mere thought.

“No. I know that she did not do it; however, I do not know the specifics. I do know that Neville, however, does know the truth.”

Harry thought about it for several moments.

“We don’t really know anyone, do we? Me, Hermione, and Draco. Everything is a lie.”

Harry seemed lost. He looked confused.

Not that it was particularly rare anymore. Lately he always looked confused and lost and angry.

“Harry. We are not going to start this again. You cannot always know everything, do you understand?”

Harry looked at her.

“Yes. I understand. I mean, really. I know that it wasn’t safe. Mum, did Neville know about us? Me and Hermione?”

“No. That was also not safe. You were all children, Harry. You are still children, but things have changed. Neville’s grandmother knows the truth of us. She was, in fact, at our last meeting. The

only reason that Neville went back to school and is not being taught at home is because he is still thought to be on Dumbledore’s side and he is needed in order to keep the younger children safe when the time comes.”

“So, he was placed in Gryffindor for real then, wasn’t he?” Harry said, more to himself than to his mother.

Rose looked at Harry, but was confused.

“What do you mean that he was placed into Gryffindor for real, Harry?”

“I mean, he must be a true Gryffindor because he is doing this. He has been prepared for this. Not like me and Hermione. We were never supposed to be in Gryffindor. I thought for sure that Neville should have really gone to Hufflepuff.”

Rose stifled the bit of laughter that was threatening to come out of her mouth. But, the situation did not call for laughter. Quite the contrary, it was a very serious situation.

“I know that you and Hermione do not belong in Gryffindor. Or, rather, did not. However, Neville does. He always has.”

“Is he really afraid of Dad?”

At this, Rose did laugh.

“Yes. He is truly afraid of your father. Perhaps he won’t be once the war is over, but your father is a fearful man. People are easily afraid of him because we need people to be afraid of him. Tell me, Harry, have you never been afraid of your father when you were pretending to be only Harry Potter? Has there ever been a time when you were so engrossed in your acting that you only saw him as your professor and the mere thought of going against him scared you to death?”

Harry looked at his mother in confusion for a moment, not quite knowing whether or not she was serious. But, he realized, she was very serious.

That was when he realized that, yes, there had been times when he had been unable to separate the real from fantasy. There had been times when he had been afraid of his father.

Harry sat beside Ron and behind Hermione. They were in second year. This was the day. The day they were going to steal the potions ingredients from his father’s private store room.

Ron nudged Harry and Harry nodded. Yes. He was going to throw a firecracker into Malfoy’s cauldron. Harry was rather nervous. The solution they were working on was one to make whatever it touched swell. Hopefully no one was actually to that point yet.

Beside him, Ron stood and knocked into Neville who then accidently knocked his cauldron over. Severus Snape was immediately berating the boy, giving Harry time to throw a lit firecracker

into Malfoy’s cauldron.

It exploded immediately.

There were screams all over the room, Hermione had vanished, and Harry and Ron had barely gotten under their table. Not many of the others were so lucky. Lavender Brown’s arm was swollen. Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle were each sporting several swollen extremities. Seamus Finnigan’s nose was three times its normal size.

Professor Snape stalked over to the cauldron that had exploded and peered inside.

Everyone in the classroom with the capabilities of seeing were able to tell that the man was beyond angry. He was irate.

He picked up, with a gloved hand, the firecracker.

“Whoever had the audacity to throw this in my classroom had better step forward!” the man yelled. He was angry.

A shiver ran down Harry’s spine. Why, oh why had he done that? The man was going to find out.

He was going to find out that Harry had done it and then he was going to be in so much trouble.

Probably more trouble than he had been in after he had gone after the stone. And he had been in so much trouble then.

“Whoever did this: Be aware that I will ensure your expulsion from this institution. And, I will find out.” Professor Snape then cleared the room with a wave of his wand and sent those who needed it to the Infirmary.

It did not escape his attention that his son, niece, and their friend were three of the five who were not in need of some sort of medical attention.

Harry remembered the moment his father had realized that it had been him. It had been right after he had spent nearly twenty-four straight hours brewing an antidote to the botched Polyjuice Hermione had brewed. He had assigned Harry detention almost immediately.

At that moment, Harry had feared his father, not for the father side of him, but the Professor. Harry looked towards Rosemerta who was watching him intently.

“Yea. When he realized that I was the one who threw that firecracker in Draco’s cauldron. I was afraid of him then.”

Rose nodded. Yes, the child had been afraid of him then. He had told her later, now that she thought about it, that he had only been afraid of Professor Snape, but that was a falsity. For the little boy in front of her had been terrified of his father, too, as well he should have been.

Rose had never seen Severus as mad at Harry as she had at that time. But, what Harry had done had been dangerous. It was the only time Severus had ever smacked Harry on the rear end. It had only been once, but it had shown Harry just how serious his father was. It was a mistake that Harry had never made again.

Yes, there had been many stupid stunts over the years, but never one such as that one. Even the Basilisk fiasco had not made Severus as angry. Rosemerta felt, however, that that had only been because they had come so close to losing Harry.

Harry crawled over to his mother and put his head in her lap. Rose was surprised, as he hadn’t done that in a long time. When he had been smaller, never truly knowing the love of a mother or father, he had often laid in her lap while she ran her fingers through his silky hair.

“Mum, will you run your fingers through my hair like you did when I was little?”

Rose didn’t answer. She merely pulled him close to her, and ran her fingers lightly over his forehead and through his hair.

If only life were always so simple.

~*~*~*~*~

Severus stared at the short tempered boy in front of him. He was in Minerva’s guest room, the boy sitting on a desk chair with a sticking charm.

Severus had silenced him then placed a lightening charm on him so that he could carry him into Minerva’s rooms.

They sat quietly, though Severus could tell that Ronald Weasley was becoming angry. Or, rather, angrier, as he was already pissed off.

“What did you do to Harry and Hermione? They never would have gone willingly with you! You bastard!”

Severus sighed deeply.

“There is much, Mr. Weasley, which you do not know. There is much in which you are not privy too. However, I can change that.” Severus said calmly. It would not do to lose his temper on the boy.

“I don’t trust you! Why should I? I will never join the Dark side!” the boy hissed.

“Have you ever thought, Mr. Weasley, that perhaps it is not I, but you, who is in support of the true dark side?” Severus asked.

“That isn’t true! Never! Dumbledore is a light wizard! You support He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named! And everyone knows that he is an evil wizard!” Ron yelled.

“You always were one to lose your temper and over step your boundaries. How many times over the years have you turned against my son because of some rigid, ridiculous jealousy? Are you going to continue down that track? Or are you going to help? Are you going to help your friends? Your family? Are you brave enough to actually help the world instead of hinder it? Or are you going to follow a man you know relatively nothing about blindly because he says so?”

Ron stared at the man before him. What the hell was he going on about?

“Dumbledore is a great man! I will always follow him!” Ron yelled.

“Perhaps, Mr. Weasley, it is time for you to realize something of great importance. History is not always what one thinks it is. This is because history is always written down by the winners of wars and those in charge. Let me ask you, Mr. Weasley, who would you follow blindly into battle first? Your father, your friends, or the headmaster?”

Ron did not even hesitate, “My father first.”

“And second?”

Ron took a deep breath.

“My friends.”

“Which is, Mr. Weasley, what I expected. I am going to tell you a little story, Mr. Weasley. And then you may decide whether you wish to follow your father and friends or the headmaster.” Ron looked at him suspiciously for a moment, but then, with a quick nod to his head, agreed.

“Mr. Weasley, when I was twenty years old, my one and only son was born. Ten months later, my son and wife were taken from me. It was one of the worst days of my life. My entire world had been ripped from me and I had no idea where they were.

Five months after that, my wife was murdered, and my son was given to strangers to raise, as the man who stole them from me had obliviated my memories, thinking that I would not remember that the child was mine; however, the issue with this was and is that I cannot be obliviated. I knew who had taken my son. I knew who had killed my wife. The issue was, though, that I was not sure who had my son then.

On my son’s seventh birthday, I realized where he was and I went to him. This had to be done in secret. But I hit a bump in the road, so to speak, when I went to get him and alter the memories of those in the home he was in. There was another child with him. Another child who had been missing even longer than my son. She is called the Missing Little Black Girl. Perhaps, you have heard the story.

I had no choice but to take that child as well. This resulted in me having to alter many memories, and cast many wards and spells so that everyone, muggle and wizard alike, would believe that both children still resided in their false homes.

This, Mr. Weasley, is when the tricky part comes in. I, my wife, and the true guardians of the Little Black Girl had to, unfortunately, train the two children and their cousin to pretend. They had to pretend in front of everyone to live with the muggles who had housed them against their will. They had to pretend to hate people who they actually loved. All because if they didn’t, they were dead at the hands of a mad man, and I am not talking about the man you are afraid to speak of.

Quite the contrary, Mr. Weasley, the man you are afraid to speak of is not the man you should fear. He is not the man who hid my child and niece. In fact, his only crime is not thinking things out properly before trying to stop a mad man from destroying the world. Have you gathered yet, Mr. Weasley, of whom I speak?”

Severus looked at the boy. He could tell he was thinking, fighting the information that had just been given to him.

“What will you do to me if I refuse to believe you?”

“Then I will obliviate you. With a stronger spell than last time so that you will be unable to speak a word of this to anyone.”

“And if I agree?”

“I will cast a spell over you that will not allow you to speak of this to anyone. And you will help us defeat the true darkness. You will not know everything until after the war, but you will know enough to ensure that you are able to do what you must adequately.”

“So, Harry really is your son, isn’t he?” Ron whispered. Severus watched the boy carefully. He could tell that it hurt the child to come to the realization that Harry was his son.

Not for the first time, Severus hated that he had to be the man he was. He hated that he had to shepherd children to help with the war. How many children would they lose when it was over? Would this child survive the war? Would all of the children who were risking their lives ever have the chance to live a free life?

He didn’t want to raise children for slaughter, but that was what he had had to do for his own son. He often wished that he could simply de-age the boy and take Rose and him and run. But they couldn’t. When the war was over they would be able to live.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley, Harry is my son.”

“Hmpf. So he never lived with those crummy muggle relatives?” Ron asked.

“On the contrary, Mr. Weasley, that is where he lived for five and a half years, until I found him on his seventh birthday.”

“But he is happy now?”

“As happy a child can be who is facing a war he doesn’t understand. As happy, I would suppose, as you are.”

“Mione is the Little Black Girl isn’t she?” This information seemed to hurt the boy even more.

Severus merely nodded.

“Ronald, you have a decision to make. I was given this task because your family…your parents…knew that it would kill them to have to obliviate you if you decided not to follow them. They know what you have believed because they have been forced to shove the false information down your throat for years. They, themselves, did not know the entire truth until after your second year. After the Basilisk. After that, they only wanted to protect you.”

“I can understand that, sir.” Ron said quietly. He felt his body unstick from the chair and he relaxed, “Will I ever get to see Harry and Mione again?”

The question was asked so quietly, that Severus was not quite sure whether he had heard it at first. He studied the boy’s face. He cast a silent ligilmens and looked around the child’s thoughts.

He was sincere. Severus felt relief watch over him.

“Eventually, Ronald. Now we must talk specifics before I leave. I have been here long enough. I have already cast the spell on you that will keep you from talking about this too anyone minus a select few. For now, the only two people you may talk to about this are myself and Professor McGonagall.”

Ron’s eyes grew wide.

“Do not look so surprised, Mr. Weasley. There are people that you will be surprised to learn that are already on our side. She, you can trust with your life.”

“Would you trust Harry’s life with her?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation at all, and Ron knew instantly that he trusted McGonagall with his life as well.

“Sir?” Ron said. He knew this meeting was going to end soon, and he had things he had to say before the man left.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley?”

“So, if you are telling me this now, it means it is going to happen soon, isn’t it? The war? The actual battle?” The thought made Ron afraid. Scared. Nervous.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley. It will happen soon. Before the school year is out.”

Ron nodded, “Okay then, sir. Okay.”

Later, as Severus was walking through the hidden tunnel, he thought to himself about what had just happened. No one, not even the adult Weasley’s, had thought Ronald would be so easy to sway. It was why Severus had been tasked with the job of asking him. They had feared his denial.

But what really got to Severus was the fact that he had just recruited a child for war. It was the first time he had done so. If one didn’t count Harry, Hermione, and Draco, and they usually didn’t because they had been destined, not recruited, by Dumbledore, the bumbling fool, from the moment the man had killed his Lily.

Severus wished that he had not had to do what he had just done. At least Arthur and Molly Weasley would be pleased to learn that their son was willing to follow them without question. That fact did not, however, make it any easier to bear the loss of innocence that so many children were going to go through once the battle was over.

~*~*~*~*~

Harry walked towards Bellatrix and Hermione. He reached the duo, placed his arm lightly around his bonded, and looked towards the older woman.

“Can you tell us what really happened to Neville’s parents, Aunt Trixie?”

Hermione sucked in her breath and watched her mother. She watched the pain wash over her mother and wanted to hit Harry.

But then her mother smiled.

“Alice was one of my best friends. I was visiting her and little Neville that day. He was only about two months old. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a cell, in Azkaban. I was in labor. Hermione was born not long after, and they took her from me. I had no idea where she ended up; I only know that the auror took her. James Potter. I will never forget the way he looked at me. His eyes glinting because he was taking away my child and I had done nothing that I remembered. I would have never hurt Alice or Frank. Cissy tells me that they are simple- minded now. They forget how old they are and that they have a child. It is odd really. The Cruciatus isn’t really supposed to do that to a person. It is only supposed to cause nerve damage, not brain damage.” Bellatrix said, looking out the window into the back garden.

Hermione wrapped her arms around her mother the moment she saw the tear slide down her face.

That lone tear actually shocked her. She had held Harry while he cried. She had held Draco while he cried. They had both held her while she cried. But she couldn’t remember ever really seeing an adult cry, except perhaps when Uncle Sev had brought her home for the first time so many years before, and the tears Aunt Cissy had cried had been of happiness.

She had asked. So she knew.

But never had she seen a tear cried in sadness from the adults in her life. Was it because they hid it from her? Was it because they were stronger than her mother? Was it because they were afraid to show weakness in front of her?

And why, above all, did it really matter?

The strange thing at that moment, however, was that Harry Snape was wondering the exact same thing about all of the adults in his life.