Chapter Forty-Four

"I started looking up my family history soon after our fight. Professor Snape is my half-uncle."

Harry watched the reactions of Ron and Hermione, a tiny part of him finding some amusement in it. Ron's mouth was opening and closing like he was a Grindylow that had come out of the water, and Hermione was staring at Harry like he had suddenly grown an extra set of arms.

"But…how?" Ron asked, beating Hermione to it by a few seconds.

Harry shrugged. "My Grandfather wasn't very moral, and had several affairs before and after he married my Grandmother. Snape was the result of one of them, and when my Grandfather found out he refused to give any support to the woman or Severus– in fact he threatened to kill them both if she told anyone. He probably wouldn't have, of course, but it was enough to frighten her into silence…her family found out eventually though, and tossed her out onto the streets for disgracing her family. They were purebloods, you see, and that one of their own would get with child and not be married would have been seen as a slur on their name in that time. It also explains why Snape hated my father so much."

"How awful…" Hermione murmured.

"It doesn't give him any reason to hate you or your father though, Harry," Ron said. "Does it?"

"It does. Imagine coming to a school having grown up in the way that he would have, and to have to face the son of the man who had caused all your problems. It would have been worse than that though, because he would have seen in James everything that he could have had, if things had happened just a little differently. Snape doesn't hate me though, I'm fairly sure of that."

"What do you mean? Sure, he's been helping you, but if he didn't Dumbledore would come down on him like a tonne of bricks."

Harry smiled. "Maybe, but there have been plenty of times when he could have done something and passed it off as bad judgment or a mistake, and he hasn't. He might not like me, but he doesn't hate me either. We can talk about this later, though. Right now I'm tired, and my bed is calling. Goodnight."

Harry closed the door quietly behind him, and changed into his pyjamas. Before hopping into bed, he opened his trunk, and pulled out two parcels that had been hidden in a corner. He smiled. Maybe he would have a reason to give the gifts he held after all…

The next morning at breakfast the Gryffindors were surprised to see that Hermione, Harry and Ron had appeared to have made up, although it was obvious that Harry wasn't about to abandon his new set of friends. He was seated near the end of the table, and to his right sat Ron and Hermione. To his left sat Neville, Seamus, and Dean. The group were talking animatedly about Quidditch, and discussing the upcoming game between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

"We're going to cream them!" Neville said, taking a bite of his toast. "I can't wait to see their faces when they realise that clumsy Neville isn't quite so clumsy anymore!"

"Not on a broomstick, anyway," Dean said.

"I'm getting better in potions, too!" Neville protested, and Seamus patted his arm comfortingly.

"Yes, yes…you keep telling yourself that. Ignorance is bliss, as they say, and who knows? By the time you're eighty maybe you'll be a competent potion maker."

Neville swatted his hand away. "Stop patronising me, you big…patronise-y…thing."

Hermione laughed. "You are getting better at potions, Neville, ignore those two."

Neville grinned. "Thanks, Hermione. It's nice to know that some people actually support their friends, instead of making fun of them."

"Shouldn't make it so easy for us to make fun of you, then," Dean said, deadpan, and ducked as Neville flicked a bit of egg at his nose.

"Perhaps we should eat the food, instead of throwing it around," Harry suggested, grinning, although his eyes showed how tired he was.

"Hey, you don't look too good, Harry," Seamus said, frowning and peering into Harry's face. Harry shook his head and laughed.

"I'm okay, just a bit tired. I slept better last night than I usually do, though." He poked at his bacon, then cut a small piece off and stuck it in his mouth.

"Hey, does anyone else's bacon taste a little strange?" He asked, poking at it again.

"No, mine tastes fine," Ron said, and the rest agreed. Harry shrugged.

"Must just be me, then." Before he could take another piece, Hermione leaned across and snagged a piece on her fork.

"Hey!"

Hermione ignored Harry and stuck it into her mouth. "You're right. It does taste a little strange. Not off, exactly, just…strange. Perhaps you shouldn't eat it."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Maybe Winky prepared it…you know how she is with the butterbeer."

"That must be it," Seamus said. "It's not like anyone could have poisoned it or anything; none of the students are allowed near the food before breakfast."

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't matter, I'm full anyway." He yawned. "I think I might go and practice for the Quidditch match for a while, see if that wakes me up a bit. I'll meet you at Transfiguration, okay?"

With that he stood and left the Great Hall