Harry lay back on his bed, staring at the water damaged ceiling above him. He found shapes in the yellow puddles, stains, almost as if he were staring into the clouds. There's a fish, a dog, the grim- he scoffed to himself. Of course the grim would be splattered on his bedroom ceiling like one of those muggle inkblot tests he'd seen advertised on the telly.

Sitting up and rubbing a hand over his face, he allowed himself to reflect on the note he had received not ten minutes prior.

Mr. Potter,

You will be retrieved from your place of residence in no later than one hours time. Further details will be discussed upon arrival.

-S.S.

The only S.S he knew was Severus Snape, and he dreaded seeing the most abhorred man in Hogwarts on a good day, and during the Summer, well, he all but cringed at the thought of seeing him sooner than expected.

In sudden realization that his Professor would be there within forty-five minutes, and he was still dressed in the ill-fitting clothing he classified as pajamas, Harry leaped from the bed and bound over to his dresser.

He tossed the laundry behind him, classifying many of the articles of clothing too dirty, too stained, too ripped. Groaning and sitting back until his bottom touched the ground, he threw his last shirt onto the floor and glared. He couldn't have been given further notice of the teacher's arrival? How the hell did they expect him to be ready to leave within an hour?

Cursing under his breath, Harry grabbed the cleanest shirt he could find- a red t-shirt with a small rip on the hem- Harry tossed it over his head and grabbed the cleanest pair of trousers he could find. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing the already untamed strands even further, and glared at his overall appearance. He looked like one of the thugs Dudley hung out with.

Clenching his jaw, Harry threw all of the clothing on the floor into his trunk unceremoniously and slammed the lid down. He retrieved his wand from the loose floorboard next to his bed, and munched on a pumpkin pasty he had put a preservation spell over before leaving Hogwarts.

His stomach tossed the sweet around, churning as he continued eating. It was the first time he had eaten in three days. He figured he could delve into his secret stockpile of food if he was leaving.

Feeling somewhat satiated, if not a little parched, Harry filled his backpack with the books he had been using for his summer assignments and the parchments he had written the assignments on. He had three muggle notebooks filled in just a month with notes from Transfiguration and Defense. He doubted he scored high enough in Potions for that OWL, so didn't bother with that homework.

While it was strange for him to delve into his studies so, well, studiously, he had finally come to the realization that he couldn't depend on his Professors to teach him all he would need to know to defeat Voldemort. He couldn't rely on others to teach him enough if he wanted to survive, and he did want to survive. He wanted to get his own place, play Quidditch professionally, become an auror, do so many things with his life. He couldn't do that dead, either.

Finished packing up his belonging, Harry looked around the room and made sure everything of magical nature was inside of his trunk. He gazed at the worn copies of muggle literature stacked on his bedside table, some looking more waterlogged than others. Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka was at the top. The cover was ripped and the side worn. Dudley had stomped on it, if he was remembering correctly.

He didn't like the psychological take on the book that his teacher had been preaching, and had chosen to receive a failure on the essay having to do with the novel rather than read through that "shite" as he had put it. Harry actually liked the book, in fact, he was very much like Gregor. He was locked away and shunned by his family, forgotten. They hadn't even opened the door to his room for a day, and he was looking forward to his teacher arriving so he could relieve the ache in his bladder.

Bitting his lip, Harry moved over to the window, staying in the shadow created by the thin-threaded curtains. It was a bright day on Privet Drive, the sun beating down on the pavement and the grass and plants yellowing from the heat. The window was hot to the touch, and Harry smirked thinking of the black clad Potion's Professor stalking down the sidewalk of this muggle suburban street. He almost wished the man was a vampire so that he would poof away in a cloud of dust, for he assuredly would with the heat and rays shining on him if he was such a creature.

His thoughts strayed once again to a scene playing out across the street from Number Four. Dudley was sitting back smoking a cigarette while Piers was beating up some twelve year old. The kid was trying to run away, crying, and Harry could hear his screams for help from his room. He didn't understand why his Aunt and Uncle could just sit around, listening to this, and not do a thing. The two teenagers across the street seemed to get bored with the scrawny pre-teen and kicked him to the ground. Harry winced as the boy's palms met the searing pavement, and pain clouded the little kid's features.

Harry saw red.

From behind him, he could hear the locks jiggling in place as his magic reacted to the situation. He tried to calm down, but it was of no use. The doorknob fell to the floor, creating a dull thud as it hit the carpeted floor. It rolled away under the cupboard, and Harry took no time rushing down the stairs.

His Aunt screeched, and his Uncle guffawed as Harry raced out of the door and to the kid who's hands were now being crushed by Dudley standing on them, and burning. Harry could feel the heat coming off of the sidewalk, wincing at the pain the kid must be in, but continued running. He rammed his shoulder into his gargantuan cousin, displacing his center of balance and causing the fat lump to fall to the floor.

Harry helped the kid up, who was beyond consolation as he gazed at his blistering palms. Harry held his wrists, ignoring his cousins cries for help. He was already known as the neighborhood delinquent, why change their opinions of him now?

Leading him over to Mrs. Figg's garden, Harry turned on the hose and sprayed cold water on the sniffing boy's hands before him. Harry winced at the growing blisters, these were serious. The kid should go to a hospital or doctor to get them checked out.

"How far away do you live from here?" Harry stopped the boy's hands from coming together, ignoring the adults that were now coming their way with shocked expressions. Some looked angry, others baffled, did they think he did this?

"Just down the block," the boy sniffed, rubbing his nose on his shirt sleeve. "I was going to the library when they tripped me."

A wave of pity washed over Harry. He had been a victim of Dudley's torture before, he knew how it felt to be picked on and kicked down for doing nothing.

Nodding, Harry turned off the hose and smiled in apology to Mrs. Figg, who was staring out the window beside him. She looked down at the child next to him, and his injuries, and seemed to shrug Harry's usage of her water off.

"Lead the way. You may need to take a trip to the doctors though, these burns are pretty bad."

The smaller boy shuffled his feet and began walking to the left of Privet Drive. They turned at the first right and then continued down the road for four houses before the child stopped again.

"You want me to talk to your Mum, or are you okay?" Harry internally groaned to himself, he didn't have time to talk to his mum actually, his Professor would be at Number Four any minute.

"It's okay, I'll do it. Do you really think I need to go to the doctors?" The boy looked frightened, but Harry couldn't do anything about that. He nodded and knocked on the door for the boy. A young woman answered the door and was shocked at her son's injuries. She glared at Harry, of course blaming him for the child's injuries, and slammed the door in his face.

He could hear the kid on the other side of the door protesting, but his mother shushed him urging him further into the house.

Harry shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking slowly back to Privet Drive. Leave it to him to get into trouble for helping someone. He bet ten galleons that Dudley would be milking his 'wounds' to Aunt Petunia, and Harry was happy for a brief moment that Snape was coming to get him.

Happy to see Snape...well, there is a first for everything.

Returning to the scene of Dudley's crime, Harry felt like turning around at the crowd of people surrounding his cousin. Oh Merlin...

"There he is!" Someone shouted, and Harry's eyes widened as Uncle Vernon turned around slowly, face a terribly dark shade of violet.

Harry could feel his face blanching as his Uncle stalked towards him. He didn't dare move for fear of the mob chasing him. "What did you do to my son, you freak!" Vernon shouted, grabbing Harry by his shirt and hoisting him into the air, shaking him. Harry grabbed onto his wrist to keep an anchor, but grew dizzy at the constant movement.

He threw Harry onto the ground, and Harry gasped as his palms met the pavement. It was hotter than he thought it was. Vernon towered over him, and Harry winced, cringing away from the man.

A moan came from the center of the crowd of people, just as an ambulance arrived on the scene. Harry wanted to cry, and scream, and run, all at once. How the bloody hell did this situation escalate so fast?

Paramedics jumped out of the vehicle, grabbing the necessary equipment to check over their patient, and ran to Dudley who was on his side, gasping and holding his ribcage. Vernon turned away from Harry, giving him time to bolt up and put distance between his Uncle and himself. His head was starting to ache, and his stomach was about to expel everything he had eaten. And damn, he had to use the loo so badly.

The paramedics checked over Dudley for fifteen minutes, looking more and more confused as they continued. Harry cringed seeing Professor Snape appear in the shadows of the Dursley house, slowly moving to join the crowd. He eyed Harry, eyes narrowing at the scrawny dark haired boy. What did he do now.

The head paramedic stood five minutes after Snape's arrival, and called Vernon over to speak with him, near Harry.

"There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him, sir. We found slight damage to his lungs from tobacco use, but other than that, nothing to be concerned about."

"What?" Vernon screamed, glaring at Harry. Harry shrunk under his gaze. He just wanted to run, as far away as possible.

The paramedic looked down at his report, and shrugged. "There is bruising on his hands, his knuckles. He may have been in a fight, but he did not receive any injures whatsoever."

Vernon began to turn colors again, now from sheer embarrassment. Dudley was being sat up by the two remaining paramedics as the other began to pack up their equipment. The spectators were beginning to whisper, and Vernon all but shoved Dudley inside, leaving Harry in the blazing sun.

Harry sank to the ground, propping his bottom at the edge of the sidewalk in the shade and rubbing a hand over his face.

Black leather boots appeared in his line of sight, but he kept his eyes trained to the ground. He wanted to go back to sleep.

"What happened here, Potter?" Snape sneered, glaring down his nose at the mischief maker before him.

Harry shook his head and slowly lifted the appendage, face blank of any emotion. "Can we please leave, sir?"

Snape's eyes narrowed even further this time and his lips thinned into a harsh line. "No, it is prudent that we meet with your guardians and discuss the situation."

"Situation, sir?" Harry's nosed scrunched and his brow furrowed, what happened this time? The Ministry had finally admitted to Voldemort's return, and in turn had begun preparing for war. From what he saw at the end of the year, in the Daily Prophet at least, the wizarding world was going on a sort of lockdown, and investigations started within the Ministry. How any of that concerned him, Harry didn't know.

With an eyebrow quirked, Snape put a hand into his pocket- Harry just realized he was in black muggle pants and a white oxford shirt- and retrieved a shrunken copy of that morning's Daily Prophet. He resized the newspaper to its regular size and thrusts the copy into the arrogant teenager's hands.

Harry pales as he reads the headline, and his shoulders hunch.

"Oh shite," he murmurs resting his hands on his knees.

"Indeed," the dark haired Professor deadpans, hoisting the adolescent up by the back of his shirt and putting him onto his feet.

*~*~* 

Ginny Weasley Falls Pregnant- "Harry Potter is the dad."

By: Rita Skeeter

Sixteen year old Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, is dealing with a very unexpected situation, the pregnancy of his fifteen year old girlfriend. This reporter has learned that Miss Weasley was seen leaving St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in tears, being lead by her mother and father. Although no further comments were given at the scene, an official statement by Albus Dumbledore has been released concerning the situation, one that young Harry surely did not expect.

"Tests have confirmed that Miss Ginevra Weasley is expecting a child. However, there is no need to panic. Hogwarts and its staff have vowed to aid both Mr. Potter and Ms. Weasley in their education as much as possible. An official statement will be written by Mr. Potter explaining the situation within the next few weeks."

Mr. Potter was recently under the spotlight of the Ministry after a break in at the Ministry of Magic Headquarters by Death Eaters and the ensuing battle. One person was pronounced dead, convicted criminal Sirius Black, who also was Harry Potter's godfather. Could this emotional anguish have lead to the two teenagers interacting, and in turn, a child on the way? This reporter has deemed it necessary to find out.

*~*~* 

"Professor, why do we need to talk to my relatives?" Snape pushed him towards the house, and knocked on the door, not answering the teenager's question.

Petunia answered and squeaked at the sight of the Professor. Harry held his breath as her face turned red and then slowly returned to normal. He sighed in relief, he couldn't deal with one of her tantrums right now.

"I must speak to you and your husband, Mrs. Dursley, immediately." She looked both ways outside and then ushered the pair in, directing them into the kitchen. Snape lowered himself into one of the chairs, narrowing his eyes at the creaking sound that issued from the wood.

Vernon and Petunia both sat down together on the opposite side of the Potion's Master, and Snape glared at Harry until he sat beside him.

"Your nephew was impregnated a young witch attending Hogwarts." He stopped there, and Harry finally let the news sink in. Oh Merlin, his life was over. His thought process paused, however, when he thought back to the last year. At the end of the year, he had avoided Ginny. He was too depressed. He hadn't even kissed her in two months.

"How far along is she?" Petunia answered, shocked and staring at Harry with wide eyes.

"A month, four weeks. Wizarding tests are able to recognize the symptoms of pregnancy earlier. It wouldn't been the last week of term, four weeks ago, that Mr. Potter and Ms. Weasley would have...interacted."

Harry shook his head, fists clenching. Of course no one would ask him his opinion on this. No one ever does. "Professor, it wasn't me. I've...well...I'm a virgin sir. The farthest Ginny and I have gone is kissing." Harry blushed, staring down at his hands.

"Are you saying that your impregnated girlfriend is a liar, Mr. Potter? Because I am sure she would beg to differ." Harry flinched at his tone, but stood by his words. He hadn't even kissed Ginny in months, he respected her and wanted to wait until they were both older to do anything more.

"I'm not saying Ginny is a liar, sir. It wasn't me though, " he bowed his head, the realization that Ginny might have cheated on him at the forefront of his mind. She wouldn't cheat on him though, he had been there for her. He had protected her, why would she do anything like that? What if someone hurt her, or worse? Was someone framing him?

Snape cleared his throat, not liking the lost expression on Potter's face. Potter was always so sure of himself, and right now he looked confused, hurt, and afraid. Serves him right, the Professor thought, removing a stack of papers from his pocket and enlarging them much like he did the Prophet.

"These papers, once signed, will give guardianship of Mr. Potter to the Professor's of Hogwarts, myself being the main guardian. He will be living in the castle during the Summers, working when possible to support Ms. Weasley and the expenses of a child. We hope that by doing this, it will teach him responsibility," Snape sneered down at Harry, who looked crestfallen. The child wasn't his, it couldn't be. It wasn't possible. He wanted to run up into his room and cry, why was this happening?

"I-I," and here Harry's voice cracked. A tear slowly rolled down his right cheek, and he wiped it away inconspicuously before murmuring something about the loo and running out of the room.

He hunched over the sink and let the tears fall from his eyes. He wasn't ready for this, he was only sixteen. He hadn't finished school, he didn't even really know what he wanted to do after Hogwarts. How was he supposed to do this? It wasn't even his! Why was this being forced on him? Why was it always him that was in the wrong, why did no one believe him?

Splashing water onto his face, he scrubbed at his eyes and willed the redness to go away. He needed to talk to Dumbledore, have tests done, show them that it isn't his. But what about Ginny? Then she'll be going at this alone, dammit! There isn't any good solution. Everything was going so well with her too, and then this. Shite, fuck, mother-

A knock on the door interrupted his inner musings, and Harry quickly wiped his face on a towel and ran a wet hand through his hair. He wasn't going to let anyone see him weak, he was going to deal with this, and let things play out. He just hoped the Professor didn't lay into him too much once they got back to the castle.

He opened the door and wasn't surprised to see Snape leaning against the opposite wall, with no pity at all in those dark eyes. Harry's eyes narrowed as he went into his room to fetch his trunk and belongings, knowing that he would never set foot in this household again.

He shrugged by Petunia, who had a far away look in her eyes, and didn't even look at Vernon as he walked out of the door. These people weren't family, they were basically zoo keepers. They locked him up, fed him when they liked, punished him when he was disobedient- in their standards of course. He couldn't give two wits what they thought about him, he hated them, he could safely say that.

Dudley was sitting on the sidewalk, smoking again when Harry walked out of the house. He looked at Harry in fear, and then at his bags. He smirked, "So they're kicking you out. About time freak." He blew a gust of smoke Harry's way, causing the dark haired teen to cough.

Snape prodded him in the shoulder, urging him to move forward and lead him to the side of the house. The Potion's Master grabbed the boy's wrist, tightening his grip until it was almost painful, and then spun, effectively apparating the duo away.

Landing at the front gates of the castle, flashing lights were the only thing Harry could see. Snape had taken his shoulder and steered him inside the gates, where the wizarding reporters seemed stationed. They were shouting questions at Harry, all having to do with Ginny. He ducked his head and followed the Professor, not taking his eyes off of the black cloak billowing in front of him.

Upon making it across the grounds, Snape lead them up the grand staircase and to Dumbledore's Office's entrance. "Marshmallow Snitches," the dark man sneered, looking disgusted at even saying the name.

The duo stepped onto the moving staircase and stepped into the office. Arthur and Molly Weasley were sitting in front of the Headmaster's desk, apparently angry. Snape stepped in front of Harry, effectively blocking him from the Weasley's angry gazes.

"You!" Mrs. Weasley screeched, causing Harry to flinch. He was glad that the Professor was between him and her at the moment.

"Molly, perhaps it is time you took your leave," Dumbledore stated, eyebrows arched over twinkling blue eyes.

"Don't tell me to leave Albus! This is his fault!" She stalked towards the Professor who held his ground, staring down at the plump, irate woman.

"To the common knowledge, Mrs. Weasley, it takes two to tango." Molly blushed and huffed, turning towards the fire and disappearing into the flames. Arthur looked like he was going to say something, but instead turned and followed his wife.

Harry didn't consider the Weasley's reaction to this entire misunderstanding, and he felt a headache coming on. They were his first family, his first contact with the wizarding world that he could remember. And they despised him.

Snape let him through the doorway, and followed Potter with his eyes as the boy sunk into an armchair in front of the Headmaster's desk. He looked aged beyond his years, stress marring the adolescent features, stress that wouldn't be there if it wasn't for him.

Harry held his hands over his eyes blocking his view of the headmaster. "It isn't mine."

Albus leaned back into his chair, interweaving his fingers and placing them on his lap. "Mrs. Weasley would beg to differ, as would the tests." He slid a stack of papers towards Harry, which he reluctantly looked at.

"Like muggles we can test the similarities between blood types of fetus and parent. It is a match according to the top paper. The second is a magical signature test. The baby will have a combined magical signature of both the mother and father, and your is a match. You can see, Harry, why we have conclusive evidence that you are the father." Harry shook his head, throwing the papers onto the desk and standing up, pacing the room. Both the Headmaster and Potion's Master kept their eyes on him, in case another incident occurred that would destroy the office once again.

"I'm sure I would remember having sex with her, Professor. I don't. There is no memory. The last time I even remember kissing her was two months ago." He screamed the last sentence and leaned against the hearth of the fire, gazing into the flames. His head was throbbing, he felt like crying, and he wanted to be left alone dammit! "And I'm damn sure that babies don't come out of just kissing."

Albus sighed and stood up, walking around his desk and laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It'll be okay Harry, you aren't alone in this." "It isn't mine," the young man whispered tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. "It isn't mine."