The adrenaline wearing off, Harry groaned at the pain he was in and sighed in exhaustion, mental, emotional, and physical. He climbed out of the core and gazed around the Chamber.

He’d done it. He got Gryffindor’s sword. They were one small step closer to ending Dumbledore’s reign.

He frowned at yet another sensation and looked at his bracelet.

H? OK?

He let his eyes close, remembering what had been happening when he went after the sword, and remembering Ron and Hermione were likely terrified for him. He’d have to explain what happened in the trial. He groaned again, but sent a return message.

OK. CoS.

He blew out a breath and turned to stare into the giant face of Slytherin. His emotions were all over the place from the fear of the trial, overcoming the trial, and his regained memories. He couldn’t believe everything that Dumbledore had taken from him. The instances of inter-house comradery, the friendships he’d had…the family he’d found. Over the years, there had been breaks in the magic and they’d all managed, at least briefly, to do exactly what Dumbledore didn’t want: unite. Anytime Dumbledore noticed the changes, he’d increased the Mind Magic to make them all forget, to create false hatred among them, to create false scenarios revolving around the threat of Voldemort. Doing so, Dumbledore had taken away the family he’d created for himself.

Snape—Severus—had come to be like his father. He’d trusted the man with his life, relied on him, loved him. Severus had managed each year to break through the Mind Magic just enough to be there for him during everything he’d experienced. Dumbledore had taken that away, convincing him that Severus despised him and that he’d never have a family.

But it wasn’t true. He’d had Severus as a father and he’d found a brother in Draco Malfoy in second year. The two had discovered their shared childhood trauma and eventually bonded, Draco also being there for him through everything. Severus had also discovered Draco’s abuse, causing Draco to join Harry under the man’s care. They had had four years with each other. It was only the previous year, fifth year, that no breaks had been managed. Things had been made worse than ever last year, Dumbledore draining more and more of Hogwarts’ magic to create the horrible circumstances they’d all been forced to face, even with each other.

They’d been a family, but Dumbledore had taken that away.

“Harry!”

He was startled by Hermione’s gasp behind him.

Right. They were all coming to find him and he probably looked a fright.

“What in Merlin’s name has happened to you?”

He spun around at Severus’ voice.

Dad.

His eyes widened and teared up as all his recovered memories and emotions filled him. He gazed at Severus as though he’d never seen the man before and, he supposed, it was true in some way. He let his emotions take over and rushed over to Severus, ignoring the others that were also there and watching. He wrapped his arms around the man and pressed his face to the man’s shoulder. He felt Severus stiffen.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t remember, but I do. I remember everything,” Harry said into Severus’ shoulder. “He took you from me.”

“Potter—”

Harry pulled back, gazing up at Severus through tears. “Please, can you call me ‘Harry’? Please, just once, so I can hear it for real?”

Severus gave him an odd look. “Harry.”

Harry smiled and sobbed, hugging Severus again. How he wished the man remembered. He was going to release Severus when, shockingly, the man’s hands landed lightly on his injured back, keeping Harry against him. It hurt, but he didn’t care.

“I do not remember, but I recognize there is something between us,” Severus said quietly.

Harry choked on a sob gain and buried his face in Severus’ shoulder, squeezing the man tightly as he lamented the loss of the only father he’d ever know, but didn’t remember until all these years later only to have the man not remember either. He eventually stepped back, wiping away his tears as he stared up at Severus.

“I wish you remembered,” he whispered, pained at the unfairness of being so close yet so far from having his life back.

Severus gazed into his eyes before bringing a hand up to rest on Harry’s cheek. “As do I, child.”

They were quiet for a time until Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably, yelping when Hermione swatted him.

“Hermione!” Ron snapped. “What happened, mate?”

It was then Harry remembered what he probably looked like.

“Right, uh, I did it,” Harry said, somewhat dumbly. “I got Gryffindor’s sword.”

All of his friends gasped, shocked at his news.

“How did you do it?” Ron asked.

“What happened?” Seamus added.

“Before you relay your tale, let us get you cleaned up,” Severus interrupted.

“Right, sure,” Harry said and let Severus guide him to the Founders’ Library. He accepted the man’s gentle push on his shoulder silently telling him to sit on the sofa. He immediately removed his tattered, bloody shirt, wincing at the painful pulling of his lacerations. He looked at the professor, waiting for treatment and remembering all the other times this same kind of situation had taken place.

“What caused this?” Severus asked, grasping Harry’s chin and dragging his wand along the split lip, eyebrow, and cheek.

“My uncle,” Harry said. “It was Gryffindor’s test. I had to literally face my fears.”

He saw the tightness appear in Severus’ jaw and the flash in the dark eyes. He flinched slightly as the man prodded his collarbone, finding it to be obviously cracked, but not broken. He turned so Severus could see his back.

“This is—”

“Common,” Harry finished simply. “Every day of my life, pretty much.”

There was no response and he sat silently as Severus did what he could to heal the injuries with just his wand.

“You knew before,” Harry said into the quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve found out about this, my relatives, before,” Harry said. “You found out each year and helped me. He made you forget.”

At the touch on his arm, he turned back around to face Severus. He could see pain in the man’s eyes and felt his own pain as he realized he was going to have to live with the truth while Severus and Draco lived in their false reality. He wouldn’t be able to interact with them the way his recovered memories wanted him to and it made his heart ache. How was he meant to go about his days with his family around, but unable to be with them in that way? He watched Severus repair and clean his shirt, and slipped it back on. He let Severus help him put on the transfigured sling to help his collarbone heal.

“We’ll get your memories too,” Harry said. “I got them back when I touched the sword. Must be because of it being pure Hogwarts magic.”

Severus just nodded. “Go. Return to your friends.”

Harry sighed at the hard tone, knowing Severus was feeling frustrated and uncomfortable. “Yes, sir,” he said and left the Library. He rejoined the others waiting in the Chamber.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked, glancing at his sling in concern.

“What happened?” Ron asked.

“Gryffindor’s trial,” Harry said, breathing deeply as he tried to pull his mind from his still-lost-to-him father. “It was pretty literal on the ‘face and defeat your fears’ concept. They were able to actually hurt me. I did it, though, I got the sword.”

“You really got it?” Seamus asked, eyes wide in amazement.

Harry nodded and carefully maneuvered his right sleeve up using his wrapped arm to show his newly acquired red band. He shook his arm to make his sleeve fall once they’d all had a look.

“I also remember everything,” Harry said, his friends’ eyes widening even more. “Touching a Founder’s magic, I guess it was stronger than Dumbledore’s.”

“What do you remember?” Seamus asked.

“Yeah, tell us what we’re missing,” Ron said.

Harry sighed, surprisingly burdened by knowing the truth he’d been wanting. “I can’t. It could cause you to push your barrier too hard. You could go into a coma, like the others. I’m sorry.”

He gave them apologetic looks as their faces fell, even becoming a bit angry. He understood their frustration. They had to keep living under Dumbledore’s control while Harry was free. They had to keep risking everything to try get any memories through Legilimency.

“Look, I know it sucks, and I’m sorry, but we’ll get your memories back, I promise,” Harry said. “We have one sword. Once we have them all, we can fight back, but you can’t if you’re in a coma or dead.”

While they were clearly frustrated still, his friends nodded, conceding that he was right. The small acknowledgement would have to do. He switched his attention to another pressing issue.

“Dra…uh, Malfoy,” he stumbled, reminding himself that only he remembered how things were supposed to be. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“He’s still in the infirmary,” Hermione said, giving him an odd look. “He’ll be okay.”

“I need to go see him,” Harry said. “Watch the map and tell me if you see Dumbledore coming to the Hospital Wing.”

“Are you sure?” Ron said, frowning.

Harry assumed it was strange that he wanted to see Draco Malfoy even though they had been to see the Slytherin as well. They had done it more because he’d told them to check on Malfoy, not because they had any kind of strong attachment to the blonde. It was likely odd to see him showing sincere concern for Malfoy.

Harry nodded. “I need to see him.”

Giving each other uncertain glances, his friends eventually nodded in agreement. Ron, Hermione, Seamus, and Luna went to the Library to track Dumbledore on the Marauder’s Map while he hurried up to the Hospital Wing, ignoring his residual aches and pains. He did his best to rush past anyone he encountered so they didn’t have time to examine him, but also not be too obvious that something was going on. He peeked into the Hospital Wing to ensure Dumbledore wasn’t there before slipping inside and to Draco’s bed, casting a cursory glance at the comatose Dean.

“Potter,” Draco said in gruff surprise before his eyebrows came together and his mouth turned down into a frown. “The hell happened to you? You look like hell.”

Harry rolled his eyes, amused. “I fought an ancient magic to get an ancient sword, what’s your excuse?”

“I made the mistake of not worshipping my father,” Draco said somewhat snappishly.

Harry sighed quietly. Draco was obviously making some breakthroughs and Harry felt the sting of knowing Draco was going through it alone. He was already so desperate to be able to be with Severus and Draco the way he remembered. He could barely handle how badly he wished to hug the blonde, having always been slightly more tactile than his brother.

Brother.

His eyes burned again and he turned his head so Draco didn’t see. He looked at Dean and all the other beds with drawn curtains that he knew held the other comatose and dying students. He hoped they weren’t in pain.

“How did you find it?” Draco asked, bringing Harry’s attention back to him. “The sword.”

“With Ron and Hermione’s help,” Harry said. “We knew it had to be in the castle still and Riddle had said Dumbledore will have hid the swords in places that had meaning to him and the game. Dumbledore was a Gryffindor. The common room just made sense.”

Draco nodded his head, but did not respond. He seemed to be able to tell that Harry was acting and feeling differently, and it was making the blonde uncomfortable. Harry dropped his eyes sadly, his chest tight with how much he missed his father and brother despite having one of them a foot away.

Gazing at Draco’s bruised and cut face, arm in a sling, bandaged ribs, and grey eyes that did not look at him the way they did in his memories, he felt a rage fill him. It was his own rage, not the Mind Magic, and it was directed at the headmaster.

They were one step closer to ending all of it, to stopping Dumbledore’s game.

And they would stop him.

Harry grinned triumphantly as he silently produced a shield and blocked Draco’s Tickling Charm. It may have taken months and the release of a power within him previously hidden by Dumbledore, but he had finally succeeded at non-verbal magic. He looked at Severus who raised an eyebrow at him before turning to yell at Ron for whispering and then looked at Draco who just rolled his eyes.

“Congratulations, Potter,” Draco drawled. “You finally accomplished what everyone else managed to do two months ago.”

Harry huffed and glared, though he was conflicted on how to feel. It had been a few days since he regained his memories with Gryffindor’s sword and, quite frankly, it had been agony. Seeing Severus and Draco every day, being close to them, but having to keep what he knew and felt to himself was harder than he ever imagined. Every time he saw one of them, he was flooded with memories that made his heart ache and his stomach twist. Despite the pain it caused, he still found subtle ways to be with them as often as possible, though they’d both been doing their best to keep their distance since that day.

He'd visited Draco in the Hospital Wing twice more before the blonde was released. He had convinced Hermione to switch seats with him so that his Potions station was beside Draco, doing similar things in other classes. He tried to be paired with the Slytherin in Defense whenever he could.

As for Severus, he looked at the man constantly and did what he could to draw the man’s attention in class. He’d take his time leaving so that he was always the last one in the Defense room. Unfortunately, there’d been no time for Chamber meetings as midterms were fast approaching. He’d gone to the Chamber himself and had spent hours just watching Severus and Draco on the Marauder’s Map.

A part of him wished he didn’t have his memories; it was so hard to remember them, but be without them. It was excruciating knowing what Dumbledore had stolen from him only to be unable to do anything more about it.

He knew he was being dangerously obvious. Dumbledore couldn’t know that he remembered or had retrieved a sword. He couldn’t help himself though. Severus and Draco were his family, yet they didn’t know that, preventing him from truly being with them. Dumbledore had done everything to make sure he was alone. The thought still hurt. He still couldn’t believe the Dumbledore he’d known all these years had been a total fabrication, a pure manipulation.

“Potter!”

He blinked, realizing he’d completely lost himself in the middle of class. Draco was still in front of him, frowning, as all the other students were packing up and leaving around them. Severus must have dismissed them. He looked over at the man to find Severus was also looking at him with a frown.

“Oh, uh, sorry…sir,” he said, forcing himself to stop from calling the man ‘Dad’.

“What’s wrong with you?” Draco said, sounding irritated. “You’ve been weird since you got the sword.”

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” Harry said slowly, trying to think of anything to say. “Guess the trial is still bothering me.”

Draco hummed, clearly not believing the excuse. “Whatever,” he said dismissively before shoving his wand into his robe and throwing his bag on his uninjured side. The boy’s ribs, arm, and collarbone were still wrapped up and healing, leaving him with only his non-dominant left hand. Draco had clearly been struggling with various things and Harry had been desperate to help, but he’d held himself back. Without his own memories, Draco would never accept such help from Harry.

He watched Draco leave the room and sighed quietly, sadly, while moving to gather his own bag. He moved slowly so he could watch Severus reorganize the room, taking the few extra seconds to just be with the man.

“Potter, what do you want?” Severus said suddenly, making Harry start. The man had turned from adjusting desks and was looking at Harry with an expression of annoyed exasperation.

“What?” Harry said dumbly, having not expected the man to talk to him.

Severus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Don’t act obtuse. You have dawdled after class for the last three days. What do you want?”

Harry chewed his lip anxiously. He didn’t realize the man had noticed his delaying.

“I’m sorry, sir, I hadn’t realized.”

“You’re lying,” Severus snapped. “Tell me what you want.”

Harry fiddled with the strap on his shoulder, trying to come up with something Severus would believe. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Severus just stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Ron found another way for everyone to get their memories back,” Harry said, remembering what Ron had found the day he got Gryffindor’s sword. “It’s called ‘Dream Chasing’. It also helps with magical connections, but it uses a really intense potion and spell. We can’t do it ourselves.”

“I see,” Severus said. “And what is your question?”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes at the man being purposely slow. “Will you help us with it? And will you teach me how to do it?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Feeling confident in your skills after one successful non-verbal shield?”

Harry glared slightly. “No, but I seem to have had a boost to my magic since the Mind Magic was removed. I’m…more powerful, I think. Plus, you’ll need someone to do it to you so you can deal with that.” He pointed to the man’s arm where the Dark Mark lay under the black layers.

Severus’ eyes hardened at the mention. Harry knew becoming a Death Eater was the man’s biggest regret which was why he had agreed to supposedly risk his life as a spy. Now, to discover all of it had been a lie, that literally his entire life had been manipulated by Dumbledore, that he’d been manipulated into believing he’d caused the deaths of the Potters…

Harry could only imagine the pain he was in. Well, maybe he did understand. After all, he’d thought he was to blame for both Cedric and Sirius, only to discover it was all a lie. Perhaps he was still to blame in some regard. He’d still made his own choices and his actions were mostly his own. He’d been under Mind Magic, not the Imperius Curse. He’d made choices in the situations, the realities he thought were real, and people had died.

He sighed quietly, hiding away all the pain he was in from his life and memories.

“I would need to see the potion and spell to determine if you could manage,” Severus said, his tone even and not betraying any emotion. Harry hated it. The man had never been overtly emotional, but he’d show Harry and Draco some. “No matter the level of newfound power you may have acquired, you do not have proficiency with it and may still have limits on the magic you can perform.”

“I dunno, I think I could even best you,” Harry said slyly, smirking and hoping to entice the side of Severus out that he knew was behind the Mind Magic. The man that had become his father was cold and heartless to everyone else, but to him and Draco, he was funny and competitive and playful and cared for them more than anything. He wanted his challenge to bring out the competitiveness and playfulness.

Severus looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Harry was sure he saw a familiar spark in the dark eyes.

He watched the man lean on his desk and cross his arms. “Is that so?” he drawled.

Harry’s smirk grew larger as he realized he’d caught Severus’ attention and had, indeed, sparked a small part of the man he knew. “Absolutely.”

It was a complete lie. He knew he could never beat Severus in a duel. He had power, yes, but Severus had skill beyond anything he could comprehend. It didn’t matter though. He wanted to feel like he had his father back, even if just for a moment.

“Perhaps you should have an opportunity to prove such a claim,” Severus said smoothly.

Harry’s grin dropped and his eyes widened. “What?”

Severus had gained a smirk of his own. “A duel, Mr. Potter, to show off your new power.”

Harry groaned as he realized what he’d just got himself trapped in. He’d done what he’d intended, he’d pulled out the father he knew, but, in doing so, he’d set himself up for a spectacular defeat. Severus knew—Mind Magic or not—that he also couldn’t pass up a challenge and was calling his bluff. However, as annoyed as he was at himself for allowing Severus to trap him, he couldn’t help but be thrilled at the amusement he saw in the man’s face. He would take any humiliating defeat if it meant he could see his father.

“Saturday evening in the Chamber?” Severus suggested and Harry huffed, glaring half-heartedly.

“You’re evil,” he muttered and, if Severus had had his memories, he knew the man would have chuckled.

“So I’ve been told,” Severus said casually.

Harry huffed again. “Fine. Saturday.”

“Until then, Mr. Potter.”

With a final tiny glare that had absolutely nothing but mirth behind it, Harry left the room, hurrying to his next class which he was already late for.

Harry knocked on the door and waited patiently for a response. He gazed around the corridor, checking if anyone was nearby to spot him. While it wasn’t odd for a student to visit a professor, it was strange for Harry Potter to willingly engage with Potions longer than necessary. Dumbledore wouldn’t necessarily be concerned that he was speaking with Slughorn outside of class, but he would be suspicious if he knew Harry was interacting with Slughorn but continuously failing to get the ‘real’ memory. However, that was exactly why he was standing outside of Slughorn’s office.

The door finally opened and, after greetings, Harry slipped inside.

“How can I help you, my boy?” Slughorn asked, tucking some fingers into the small pockets in his vest.

“I want to tell you that you were right, about Tom,” Harry said and Slughorn looked at him with curious confusion. “I can’t tell you everything, but you were right. Tom was driven to do what he did and a lot of what he supposedly did is a lie.”

“Oh my,” Slughorn said, sounding off-kilter and like he didn’t know what to think.

“I’ve seen him, the real him,” Harry said and Slughorn stared at him in wonder. “He’s okay. He speaks highly of you, says you were a treasured friend.”

Slughorn’s chest jumped and he made an odd sound. He watched the man pull out a handkerchief and dab his suddenly damp eyes. Harry gave him a few minutes to compose himself. He couldn’t imagine what the man was feeling, to find out the beloved student you thought you’d failed for years was okay and still cared for you. It had to be overwhelming.

“Thank you for that, my boy, thank you,” Slughorn said, sniffling.

Harry nodded. “I also came here for your help.”

“Of course, anything.”

“I need you to create a fake memory, make it look real, and then give it to me,” Harry said.

Slughorn frowned, completely confused. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Before Christmas, I was shown a memory of yours, except it had been tampered with, and told to retrieve the real memory. It’s why I approached you about Tom and your horcrux conversation at your party,” Harry explained, keeping things as vague as possible. “I know the memory you showed me is your real one, but I need you to make a different one that I can pass off as real.”

A look of understanding dawned on the professor’s face. “I believe I know what you are talking about.”

It was Harry’s turn to be confused. Slughorn gestured for him to sit and they both did so at his desk.

“I told you before that I tried to help Tom,” Slughorn said and Harry nodded. “I went to Dumbledore as well. I hoped he would be able to help Tom. However, after that is when things changed. I came to believe Tom had chosen his path and I had helped him by telling him about the horcruxes. It wasn’t until after I retired that I realized the truth.”

“Dumbledore changed your memories,” Harry said. “He used the Mind Magic on you.”

“I didn’t know it was Dumbledore,” Slughorn said, “but I have suspected all these years.”

“He’s trying to tell me what happened to Tom and he’s waiting for that memory,” Harry said.

“I can give it to you,” Slughorn said. “It will look like a real memory because, in some ways, Mind Magic memories are real.”

Harry nodded, thinking about how his false memories still existed in his mind, but at the edge where his hidden memories used to be.

“What has Albus done?” Slughorn asked, pausing in his retrieval of an empty vial and looking at Harry with an expression of uncertainty. The professor wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Harry sighed, giving him a sympathetic look. “A lot, but I can’t tell you, not yet.”

Slughorn gave a jerky nod as he resumed his search, pulling an empty vial out of a cabinet. Harry watched the man put his wand to his temple and close his eyes. Only a few seconds later, he slowly pulled his wand away, a glowing blue-white strand attached to it. He dropped the strand in the vial, corked it, and held it out to Harry. He grasped it gently, feeling the pressure of the act he had to keep up in front of an extremely powerful wizard. He didn’t want to even think about what Dumbledore would do to him if he found out what Harry was doing, especially considering the out of the blue coma Dean had been sent into a couple weeks earlier.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said quietly.

“No, my boy, thank you.”