Snape strode angrily towards the castle, his cloak billowing out behind him. Potter had broken so many rules in going after the stone, and now the headmaster wasn't going to do anything about it! Well, at least it wouldn't be his fault when it became obvious that Potter was an arrogant attention seeker just like his father. He'd tried his best to keep the Potter brat humble, and now Dumbledore was going to just walk all over his progress! His eyes narrowed as he approached Hagrid on the path. He was one of the worst Potter supporters.
"Professor, sir," Hagrid spoke up, moving to walk next to Snape. "I was wonderin' if, well, Harry doesn' have anything of his parents because of those blasted muggles, an' I've been writin' to some o' James and Lily's friends from school, an' I was wonderin' if maybe yeh could give me some o' yer pictures of Lily from when she was younger, back when yeh were in school."
Snape slowed his pace, turning to Hagrid. "I will consider it. But don't get your hopes up," he snapped.
"It's just that," Hagrid sniffled, "He was jus' so brave, little Harry, fightin' against You-Know-Who again, and I don' think the muggles ever told him anythin' about his parents, and, well, no one was closer to Lily than yeh were-"
"Hagrid, I said I would consider it, now please let me be!" Snape interrupted, snapping at him.
That evening, Snape was sitting at his desk, glaring at the stack of student essays that he had just finished going through. "Stupid Potter," he mumbled under his breath. "Thinks the whole world revolves around him." He gave a final glare at the papers and stood, pushing his chair back. He stalked over to a shelf on the back wall and bent down to pull a cardboard box out from the bottom shelf. He walked back to his desk and set the box down, continuing to glare at it. With a sigh, he opened the top, lifting up a stack of papers. He sifted through them despondently, sometimes with a look of rage on his face and sometimes even wiping away a lone tear from his eye. About halfway through the box, he drew out an envelope. He opened it and pulled out a stack of photos. He stared at the one on the top for a moment before coming to a decision and pulling out his wand and waving it over the stack, muttering a few words under his breath. Then he reached over to a drawer and opened it, pulling out an envelope and sliding the photos inside.
"Even though he is a brat with no skills to speak of other than a lack of common sense, he at least deserves these," he muttered under his breath.
A few days later, in the hospital wing besides Harry's bed after he had woken, Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present."
"It's not a stoat sandwich, it it? Said Harry anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle.
"Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead- anyway, got yeh this . . ."
It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father.
"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' for photos . . . knew yeh didn't have any . . . d'yeh like it?"
Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.
Later that evening, Harry was flipping through his new picture album when he came across some pictures of a young Lily Evans. She was smiling and laughing with someone, but Harry couldn't tell who it was. He could tell that there was someone there, but for some reason the face and any other distinguishing marks were blurred out. He lifted the book closer to his face, but with no luck. He still couldn't see their face.
The next morning, Harry went down to Hagrid's hut to find out more about where the picture had come from. But when he asked Hagrid, the only answer he got was, "They don't want yeh t' know who they are. Had a fallin' out with yer mum, they did, coupla years back. An' don't ask me again, tha's all I can tell yeh, an' don' try and find out who they are yerself, they didn' have to give yeh those pictures, but they did anyway an' yeh should respect their privacy."
Harry didn't respond, choosing instead to stare at his mum's face in one of the pictures, reaching out to touch it with the tip of his finger. She was looking up at the mysterious person with a bright smile on her face.
"Well then, please tell them I appreciate it and I'm going to respect their wish to remain unknown."
The words in italics come directly from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone. All credit goes to JK Rowling. I own nothing. Please don't kill me.
In case anyone was wondering, the spell Snape uses on the photos blurs any pictures that he is in, so Harry won't know that Snape was friends with his mom.
I apologize if I didn't write Hagrid's accent right, but since I'm not a magical British half-giant, I could only give it my best attempt.
Should I expand on this, or leave it as a oneshot?