Harry was a little... disgusted, with what he'd found out about making babies. Maybe it was just because he'd never really been allowed to watch TV like Dudley had, but he'd had no idea that it involved a man and a woman... ugh, he shook himself mentally every time he'd accidentally started to think about Professor Snape and his mum. He'd found a number of old Muggle books as well as one magical one on how magical children could sometimes inherit magical traits from one parent or the other. Maybe that explained why he was actually pretty decent at Potions, he'd thought at first. The book was riding around in his book bag now right next to Ron's Potions book.

He knew for sure now that if he and Calen were brothers, and Professor Snape really was his father, then he and Calen must have had different mothers. That bothered him, because he and Calen were the same age, which meant that Snape had been with both women at once. He wondered if there was anyone he could ask who had known Lily, if she'd been with Snape 13 years ago.

After Harry had finally figured out the whole baby thing, he'd started to search for some sort of potion or spell that would tell him for sure if he was Snape's son. He worried that he wanted it so bad that perhaps he'd just made the whole possibility of it up, and had made up all the similarities between himself and Calen. He was having a hard time finding anything though, even in the household potions texts he'd been reading (which consequently had come in handy several times in Potions already when he'd been able to blurt out the answer to Snape's questions in class, much to Calen's chargrin).

Three weeks after his first Quidditch match, Harry spotted an opportunity to find out about paternity potions, but passed it up because he was embarrassed.

Draco Malfoy had knocked into him in the hallway again after dinner one night, sending Harry's bag to the floor and spilling its contents (just the book on magical conception and Ron's potion text), to the cobbled floor. Draco had smirked and hurried off as Harry picked himself up, but the embarrassment didn't end there. Harry turned just in time to see Professor McGonagall stooping down to pick up the book on babies. Judging by the look on her face, he might as well have had a book titled ‘How To Make Babies 101'.

"Mr. Potter, I think you and I had better have a talk." Her voice was cold and Harry was sure he felt the blood leaving his face. He was grateful no one else was around.

"It's not like that Professor," he started, but was unable to finish the sentence.

"Not like what Mr. Potter?"

Harry wasn't sure what to say. Did she suspect he was trying to find out how to do all the disgusting stuff in that book? He shuddered mentally.

"Not like whatever you're thinking," Harry finished lamely.

She turned the book over in her hand to look at the back, where Harry knew there was a summary that would make her think the worst.

"I'm willing to forgo jumping to conclusions given your age. Please explain to me your interest in this book."

Great. He didn't want to tell her he thought he was Snape's son. Even though she was his head of house he never felt comfortable talking to her. He wished he could tell her though, because then maybe she could help him find a potion to see if it really was true.

Thinking quickly Harry said, "I was trying to find out if I'm good at anything like my mum and dad were... someone said magical kids get traits from their parents." There, that didn't sound too lame, it was what the book was about anyhow.

McGonagall seemed to relax and then she had a look of pity that softened her face.

"I only knew your mother and father as their teacher, but I can tell you that James was an excellent flier. He was also a Seeker when he was in school. Lily was very good in charms."

Harry was going to ask her to say more about Lily, but hesitated. James Potter was good at flying? Just like he was? There was a knot growing in his stomach.

"You know who a good person to talk to would be, Professor August," she said then. "He used to be in a study group with your mother, and he played on the team with James. He was a year behind them."

"August?" Harry repeated, looking up again from where he'd been trying to figure things out by staring at the floor.

"Yes." She handed the book back to Harry, but Harry didn't take it.

"It's ok," he said, "I think I'm done with it."

"Very well," she gave him a smile and patted him on the shoulder once on her way by, presumably on her way to the library.

When she was gone, he let out a breath of relief. That had been close, and at the same time he felt harried to know that James Potter was good at Quidditch. He needed a potion to know who his parents were more than ever now, to know if his last hope at having a parent really was dead, or was the ever angry Potion's Master who put him down at every turn.

Though his opportunity with McGonagall had passed him by, another opportunity presented itself neatly the next day. It was Sunday afternoon and Harry was just coming from the Library when he met Professor August in the hall.

"Harry, there you are."

He stopped but didn't say anything. Here I am, he thought sullenly.

"Professor McGonagall said you were interested in your parents and how traits could be passed on. I know it's a bit past lunch already, but I've got some cookies in my office. If you want to come by I'll put on tea and I can tell you a little more about Lily and James."

"Ok," Harry said. He liked that August always smiled at him when he saw him. The other Professors were usually too hurried between classes to smile at students, but August never seemed to be in a hurry to get anywhere. He was also younger than most of the other Professors, like Snape was.

Harry followed August down a side corridor and into a very hip and comfortable looking office. The desk was modern, like August had picked it up from a Muggle store somewhere, and there were Quidditch posters on the walls for two teams Harry hadn't heard of. It looked like they were American by the sound of the names and the colors of the Jersey's. Instead of a student chair or desk facing his desk like in most of the other Professor's offices (Harry'd seen his share of Snape's office this year having earned four detentions already), there were two light blue bean bag chairs and two comfortable looking white armchairs all facing each other.

When August saw Harry looking at the chairs he said, "We have study group in here four times a week for those who are struggling and once a week for the advanced class. The sixth and seventh years like to be a little more relaxed while studying.

"You like Quidditch a lot?" Harry asked, eying the posters on the walls again, trying to stall to see which seat August would take first.

August laughed and nodded as he sat in one of the armchairs. Harry sat in the bean bag chair thinking it looked comfortable and because he'd never been allowed to sit in one before.

"Yeah, but my students make fun of me because I like the American and Canadian teams. They have some moves we just don't use here."

Harry was interested in hearing about those Quidditch moves, but he was there for another reason. He felt reasonably comfortable with August he thought, and maybe he could ask him about the potion he needed.

"Now then, I knew both of your parents in school. They were a year ahead of me, but I was on the Gryffindor team with James and I was in one of the advanced Charms classes with your mother so we studied together. Professor McGonagall said you were interested in some of the traits you might have inherited from them."

"Yeah," Harry said slowly, not wanting to admit he'd lied.

"Well your father was obviously very good at Quidditch. It didn't surprise me at all to hear that you'd leapt out of the stands to catch the Snitch and then described it as ‘love'." He chuckled.

"What about Professor Snape, is he good at Quidditch?"

August paused. "Severus?"

"Calen is good at Quidditch," Harry said, trying to sound as if he was just making an observation.

"Ah, yes," August gave him a look Harry couldn't decipher but decided it wasn't negative. "Well, Severus wasn't on a team, but it wasn't because he wasn't good. If I recall, they'd asked him to play several times but he always said no."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I don't know exactly, but I'd imagine it had something to do with your father. James and Severus didn't get along well."

Harry wanted to blurt out his next question, but paused to think about it. He had a feeling August was a fairly smart man and would figure out his line of questioning eventually. Finally he asked, "Because of Lily?"

"How would you know that?" August asked.

Harry didn't know how to answer. "Didn't Lily and Snape go together?"

"You sound as if you want to know." He paused and though his face didn't turn sour as most adults Harry'd encountered when they were trying to figure Harry out, he did look calculating. "You didn't have that book on wizarding parentage because you wanted to know about James and Lily did you?"

Harry bit his lip and wondered if he was in trouble. When August didn't start talking again, he took this to mean he was expected to answer.

"Professor McGonagall always gets the wrong idea about me," Harry said. "I didn't know what to tell her when she found the book."

"Well, Gryffindors are known for getting into trouble." August looked like he wanted to laugh but turned serious again. "Harry, why did you have the book?"

After fidgeting with his hands for a few moments, Harry said, "Well I wanted to know about babies and stuff."

"I have a feeling it wasn't just because you were curious."

"No," Harry agreed. He might as well just come out with it now. August was nice enough anyhow, maybe he would help Harry with that potion...

"I don't think James is my father."

"I see. And you think Professor Snape is?"

Harry nodded and August continued, finally piecing things together. "Because you look similar to Calen, and Calen is Snape's son." Harry nodded again as dawning spread over August's face.

"That's why you were curious about Calen last year."

"From the first time I saw Calen, I thought we were brothers back in primary school, and then he moved away. When I saw him here after we got off the train and I started talking to him, he said he had a father here, Professor Snape, and he was going to make sure he would take him by the end of the year. I said we looked a lot alike, and didn't he think I could be his brother, and he got upset. He didn't talk to me for the whole year after that."

"What about when he hit you at the end of the year?"

"It was right after Professor Snape took him. I wanted to ask him about it, and I asked if he mentioned me and he punched me and told me to leave him alone."

Professor August sighed and gave Harry a serious, though not unkind look. "Do you really think it's possible that Professor Snape is your father?"

"I'm good at flying, and so was he. I'm good at potions... really really good, and so is he. And me and Calen look just like each other with short hair."

"You look just like him with long hair too," August said, motioning to Harry's growing hair, which was now half way down his neck after not cutting it for two months. When this only seemed to boost Harry's spirit, August held up his hand and said, "Look. Professor Snape isn't an easy man to get along with. He and I get along fine, we're family-"

"You're related to him?"

"We're cousins, but his side of the family didn't like my side, so I've never been to his property or anything. We were friends in school though."

"You won't tell him will you?" Harry asked, feeling panicked.

August looked at him. "No, I won't tell him. I don't think you realize what it would be to be his son."

Harry stared at August and said seriously, "I don't know what it's like to be anybody's son," and August sat back and closed his mouth. Good, Harry thought quietly, that statement had the effect he'd wanted it to.

"He's not very nice to you, and you still want to find out if he's your father?"

"Yes."

"What about your other family?"

"I'd rather have Professor Snape."

August sighed. If Harry would rather have Severus, who made it no secret that he hated him, then that was really saying something about Harry's other family. Who did he live with again?

"Was it your mother's sister you live with?"

"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon," Harry said quietly.

They were quiet for long moments and Harry felt deflated. Maybe August wouldn't help him after all. But then he blind sighted Harry with, "What's your plan?"

"My plan?"

"You seem determined, like Calen. I assume you have a plan to find out the truth, and then if it's as you suspect, win him over to your side like Calen did."

"My last plan backfired," Harry said.

"What was that?"

"Quirril."

"You did that to impress Severus?"

Harry nodded but his cheeks were growing hot because of the incredulous look August was giving him.

"Nobody knew why you did it. The Headmaster thinks you're very brave and wanted to keep the Philosopher's Stone safe... but now I see that you're determined. That was very dangerous Harry."

"I know, Hermione wrote me letters telling me that all summer."

"Hm."

"I had that book because I was looking for some sort of paternity potion I could brew to figure it out. The Muggles have something like that."

"There isn't a potion I know of, but there is a spell. It's very simple actually. They probably preformed it on Calen at the Ministry before signing custody of him over to Severus."

"What is it?"

August looked wary. "I'm not sure I should tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because a boy who belongs to Gryffindor house, leaps out of Quidditch stands, and goes after a man with You-Know-Who stuck to the back of his head might do something rash."

Harry scrunched up his nose. "The Quirril thing was a little hasty," he admitted, "but if he really is my father, don't you think I ought to be allowed to know? If you don't tell me I'll find it in a book somewhere, it'll just take me longer." Harry was already imagining a spell he could secretly cast on his father during Potion's class without anyone being any the wiser.

With a long sigh, August said, "All you have to do is mix a drop of your blood with a drop of his blood."

"That's it?"

"That's it. If he's your father, it will bubble, like a potion in a cauldron. If not, it won't do anything. It's the magic intermingling and getting familiar again. If he is your father, you have part of his magic, that's why some magical traits are passed down sometimes from parent to child."

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Did Professor Snape and my mum date?"

"They dated in school. That's why James and he didn't get along. James liked Lily and he was always trying to make Severus look bad in front of her. Maybe that's why he treats you so poorly."

"What do you mean?"

"As much as you look like Calen, you do look very similar to James, from the hair to the glasses, and if Severus thinks you're James' son, then it's like every time he sees you he's lost to James all over again."

"Well if I'm really Professor Snape's son, then he'd be happy right?"

"I don't know Harry. I don't want you to get hurt having high expectations. He's a complicated man."

"Calen is happy."

"It would seem so."

Harry looked down at his watch then and realized he was going to miss dinner if he didn't leave soon. He'd been so engaged in the conversation that the time had flown by. He wouldn't mind staying longer, because August had given him a lot of information and a lot to think about, but he hated to miss a meal. If the Dursleys had taught him one thing, it was to never take a meal for granted, and Harry didn't.

"Looks like dinner time," August said for Harry, taking the awkwardness out of it for him. He stood up and so did Harry. Harry made for the door, but August held out a hand to stop him and said, "Harry."

Harry turned. "I don't want to read a headline in the Daily Prophet proclaiming ‘Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School - attacked by a 4 foot tall unknown assailant - massive blood loss....'"

Harry grinned. "No sir, I don't expect you'll have to read anything like that."

"Good. Go on then. And Harry... my door is always open to you."

"Thanks Professor August." He smiled again, feeling happy, and hurried off to dinner, hoping to catch up with Ron and Hermione.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure how he was going to get a drop of Snape's blood, especially without help from someone like Calen, who was always near the man. Harry almost considered approaching him again, but after Calen caught him looking in his direction in Potions and shot him a nasty look, Harry nixed the idea. He supposed maybe if he came clean with Ron and Hermione they might help him, but he nixed that idea as well. He wasn't ready to tell them yet. What if he really was wrong and he turned out to be James Potter's son after all? He didn't want to look desperate... even if he felt it.

With no plan on how to get his father's blood, Harry continued on with his classes and Quidditch practice through November and right into December. He never looked forward to December as a rule, because he never got any presents, but at least staying in the dorms by himself was better than staying with the Dursleys. In fact, Harry wished for nothing more all through the first week of December, that he could just be left to his own devices and stay in Gryffindor for Christmas, but apparently that wouldn't be happening.

December 1st had started off well enough, Harry thought. He'd begun the day by standing in front of the mirror and admiring his newly grown hair. He'd found a spell to help it along in the library and it had grown an inch overnight. It was now just as long as Calen's was. Despite a comment from Ron that he should cut it, Harry felt like it was going to be a good day.

He'd gone to his first few classes without incident, but after lunch Harry found himself alone in the Charms corridor with Calen. It was the first time since the end of first year that they'd been alone, but Harry was forcefully reminded of that encounter when Calen came out of nowhere and slammed him hard into a wall. Calen was better built than he was, and Harry thought it was because he had been fed more often, but didn't say so.

"What-the-hell Potter?"

He looked disgusted as he looked at Harry's hair, but Harry didn't say anything.

"What's your dysfunction? Why the hell can't you just leave me alone?"

"I haven't done anything to you. I haven't even talked to you this year." Harry was a little angry to be accused like this.

"You grew your hair out to look just like mine. Are you mental or something? You're NOT me and you NEVER will be! Stop copying everything I do!"

"I can grow my hair out if I want to! Bugger off!"

"It's not just the hair Potter." He was still holding Harry against the wall with his arm across his chest, and Harry wondered if he'd get punched again. "I join a Quidditch team as Seeker, so you try out as Seeker? I get good grades in Potions, so you do too? My hair is long and so you start growing yours out?"

Harry actually smirked then, he didn't know what made him do it, but he imagined he must have looked like Draco. Then he said in a smooth voice, one that wasn't like him at all, "I don't even like you Calen, why would I want to be like you? You suck on the Quidditch field, and you're the third in Potions, I'm the second."

Calen looked angrier than he had before and dug his elbow into Harry's chest, making Harry wince.

"He's my father Potter, not ours, not yours. You're delusional, you're dreaming, and you're done." He let go of Harry then and stalked away. Harry was surprised with himself and surprised that he hadn't really gotten it from Calen after the way he'd acted. At this point the truth was that the only thing Calen had that Harry wanted was their father. Harry would give up the Quidditch team and the long hair and the Potions grades if he could just have someone to love him and care for him as Snape did for Calen. Harry stared at Calen's back as he stalked off and once again took note that Calen was wearing new and expensive looking shoes, designer jeans and a nice blue polo shirt under his unbuttoned robes. It just made Harry hate him more.

Harry thought the encounter with Calen had been the end of it, but as it turned out, his bad luck that day was just starting.

After dinner he was on his way to one of the student study rooms near the library to study potions with Hermione (the two of them were now in a fierce competition for the number one spot in Potions), when he heard Snape call out. Harry almost didn't hear him, because he was mentally preparing himself for a battle with Hermione. She had been trying to convince him to let off of his Potions studies because he was neglecting his other classes and wasn't doing well in Transfiguration, even though his Charms grade had recently been going up thanks to the information he'd learned from Professor August.

"Calen."

Harry's ears perked a little and he pulled himself from his mental preparations to fight with Hermione. He turned, expecting to see Calen somewhere if Snape was calling for him, but found only Professor Snape, who stopped upon seeing him. If Harry wasn't used to searching for even the smallest traces of emotional change in people such as the Dursleys, he might not have even seen the flash of confusion on Snape's face, but it was there, and then it was gone, morphing to anger just as quickly.

Snape stalked over to Harry and grabbed him by the front of the robes. Harry thought he'd lift him off the ground and allowed his eyes to widen in fright and confusion as they stared into Snape's narrowed eyes.

"Potter," Snape spat angrily. His eyes raked over Harry's hair and face as if he wished to do him harm, and Harry wanted to flinch away but couldn't.

Not letting go of the front of his robes, Snape said angrily, "I didn't think it was true, but I see now that Calen wasn't lying. Tell me Potter, do you derive some sort of sick pleasure from trying to imitate my son? Are you simply trying to rile him or do you really want to be him as badly as he says you do?"

Harry's heart sank, had Calen told him that Harry thought he was Snape's son?

"No sir," Harry said, voice faint.

"No sir what Potter? You're not trying to rile him and you're trying to be him, or you're trying to rile him and not trying to be him?"

"Neither," Harry said.

"Then you won't mind if I do this." Suddenly Snape's wand had come out of nowhere and transformed into a knife, and with a strong grip on the front of Harry's robes, he brought his hand around to the back of Harry's head and sliced off his hair in one swift motion. He shoved Harry away from him, letting go of his robes, and snarled a grin of satisfaction. Harry felt sick.

He looked down to the ground and saw several inches of his black hair there on the floor. So full of hurt and anger he could not stand it anymore, he looked up at his father, a man who despised him and said, "I hate you."

"I'm hurt Potter," Snape mocked. "You will stay away from my son. You will cease this irritating behavior of imitating him at once, or I will see to it that mind healers are brought in from St. Mungos to look you over. Am I understood?"

Harry's chest was so tight he couldn't even stand to speak, so he glared with as much force and hatred as he could muster at the man.

"Well?"

"Yes- sir." He ground it out through gritted teeth.

Snape turned and stalked away, and Harry turned and kicked the wall so hard his toes hurt inside his ripped, three year old, too tight shoes. If this was the way Snapes acted, maybe he wasn't a Snape at all.

Hermione asked Harry about his hair when he finally made it to the study room, but when he threw Ron's second hand Potions book against the wall, she closed her mouth and gave him his space for the rest of the evening.

Later that night, as Harry and Hermione returned to Gryffindor common room, McGonagall appeared and pulled Harry aside. He was still angry but he felt more defeated and hurt than anything else.

"Mr. Potter. I've just come from the Headmaster. I was told to give you this."

Harry looked down at a folded piece of parchment.

"What is it?"

"It's a letter saying that this year you're to return to your aunt and uncle's house for Christmas."

His heart sank even further. "Why?"

"I don't know Mr. Potter. I do know that Professor Snape spoke to the Headmaster just before I was called to speak with him. Have you gotten yourself into some kind of trouble?"

"Some kind," Harry mumbled, and took the letter up to his room. It said little more than what McGonagall had just told him, aside from to add that the Headmaster thought it would do Harry ‘some good' to see his family.

Over the course of the next week, Harry moped and dreaded his return to four Privet Drive. He barely spoke to his friends, and made little effort at the last Quidditch practice of the term before Christmas break rolled around. On Friday the 7th, the day before they were going to return home on the train, Harry started to feel panicked again, like he had at the end of his first year, and felt like he should do something to prove himself right. It was double Potions that day with the Slytherins and he turned his attention to getting a drop of Snape's blood again. Without the Dragonhide gloves he was supposed to have that year in Potions, Harry had been careful all year not to burn himself on the special cauldrons they were working with, but his mind was so adrift that day, desperately trying to come up with any way to get a drop of Snape's blood, that he allowed both hands to touch his hot cauldron and they burned.

Yanking his hands back and hissing, he drew Hermione's attention but quickly hid his hands under the table. He wouldn't give Snape any sort of satisfaction berating him because he'd burned himself and if Hermione saw she'd be sure to tell on him.

So with burned hands, a damaged ego, and no hope at all for a happy Christmas, Harry returned on the Hogwarts Express to London. He never expected that Snape getting him kicked out of the school for Christmas break might actually turn out in his favor.