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Chapter 15: On Truths and Trust

"Severus," Remus caught up to the Potions Master as they were exiting the Headmaster's office. "Can I have a word with you in private."

Snape nodded, indicating for the werewolf to follow him.

"What is it, werewolf?" asked Snape, once they reached his office: Snape didn't want to bring the werewolf into his own quarters.

"Is Harry your son?" asked the werewolf without preamble. Snape blanched.

"What on earth are you on about!? The Brat is the spitting image of James Potter!" Snape spat.

"Except he isn't, anymore, is he?" asked Lupin calmly. "I know about you and Lilly, she told me everything."

Snape paled slightly. "Don't be ridiculous, Lupin. The boy is nothing like me!"

"That's not quite true, Severus. There are actually many similarities between the two of you. If you weren't so blinded by your hatred of James, you might have noticed them by now," Lupin continued insistently.

"I don't know where you came up with this ridiculous notion, but I assure you, the boy is a Potter to the core!" Snape yelled the last bit. "I don't know why you insist on wasting my time with this nonsense."

"He was born nine months to the day you and Lilly slept together. She never told me Harry wasn't James's, Snape," Lupin was angry now, "but she wouldn't have done. She would have thought it a threat to Harry. If he were your son, she would have done everything in her power to hide the fact. She was a genius at charms, you know that as well as anyone."

That much Severus couldn't argue with.

"His looks aside," said Snape, who was now rubbing at his temples, "what about the prophecy, Lupin?"

"Oh, and you've never defied Voldemort?" Lupin pressed.

"I am a spy. I've defied him more times than I can count. That does not fit the specifications of the prophecy!" Snape was angry now.

"And on how many specific occasions prior to Harry's birth did you do so?" asked Lupin.

Snape thought for a moment. It can't be.

"Three," Snape whispered.

"Haven't you noticed the changes in his appearance. His hair is finer, straighter. His hands: his fingers are longer, more elegant. You are a potions master, that much even you should have caught on to." Lupin was quite annoyed with Snape by this time.

Snape was now regretting not taking the wolf to his chambers, as he didn't keep any firewhisky in his office. Damn.

After Snape didn't say anything for a long while, Lupin pulled the other man out of his thoughts.

"There's only one way to find out for sure, Severus, and there's no sense in putting it off."

"Thank you, werewolf," said Snape sarcastically, "but I would prefer it if you left this situation to me to deal with."

"Alright Snape," the werewolf reverted to using the potions master's surname out of sheer annoyance once again. "Deal with it as you wish," said Lupin before lowering his voice to a whisper. "But if you hurt the boy, I will finish what James and Sirius began at the Shrieking Shack. He's suffered enough as it is."

Snape merely nodded, a sign in itself of just how discomfited the man was by this revelation.

Snape sat where he was, unmoving, thinking about the implications of what the werewolf had said until the early hours of the morning. As much as he hated to admit it, the wolf was right. He would have to brew a Paternity Potion and test Lupin's theory as soon as possible. Snape had to make sure that Potter was indeed not his son and going through some strange change before Malfoy arrived to days hence.

Snape wondered if he should go speak to Albus first. Damnable Old Man probably already knew about all this somehow. Perhaps Dumbledore had the house elves spying on all of them. That was certainly something to consider, but not just now.

Snape rose from his seat, glancing out the window and realizing by the position of the moon that it was altogether too late to bother the Headmaster. It would have to wait until morning. Preferably until after he had brewed and used the potion. Shame he was teaching the Brat Occlumency tomorrow and not potions, that would have simplified things immensely.

* * * * *

"Potter," said Snape as the boy entered his classroom the next day, the name sounding strange on his tongue now that he knew that Potter might indeed not be a Potter after all.

"Good morning, Professor," the boy responded.

"Come into my office, we'll be having our lesson in there today." Potter seemed confused as to why they were changing venues, but followed nonetheless.

The lesson passed rather smoothly: Potter had been practicing, and Snape's mind was elsewhere, weakening his spells.

"Potter," said Snape at the end of the lesson, his voice uncharacteristically mild. "I require a sample of your blood."

"Why?" asked Potter.

Snape glared.

"Why, sir?" Potter tried again.

Snape sighed. "I cannot tell you right now. I ask you to trust me."

Potter looked skeptical for a moment, then asked: "Does Dumbledore know?"

"No, Potter," he does not.

Potter hesitated once again, then he quickly nodded his head, pulled up his sleeve, and held his arm out to Snape for him to draw blood from.

Snape was astonished that Potter had relented so quickly, but rather pleased. Who would have thought the boy would trust the Evil Potions Master with his blood? Blood was a highly potent potions ingredient, as the child very well knew after witnessing the resurrection of the Dark Lord.

Snape took some blood from the boy, then sent him on his way.

Snape went out to his classroom where he had left the potion that he had brewed waiting in the back of the room.

Snape took the same knife he had used on Potter, wiped it off, and cut his arm, allowing the blood to flow into a second vial.

Snape poured the two vials into the cauldron, holding his breath as the potion swirled.

The potion remained red. Potter was his son.

Well, thought Snape, there's only one thing for it: It's time to go deal with the Dursleys.

* * * * *

Snape Apparated to Privet Drive, and stalked over to number four. Nobody treated a son of his the way those Horrid Muggles had and got away with it.

Snape pressed the Odd Muggle Contraption fixed to the door, and heard a bell go off inside the house.

Vernon Dursley answered the door, only to find a wand pointed at his chest.

"In," said Snape.

Vernon fearfully backed into his house. Snape followed the beefy man, shutting the door behind him.

"I was not impressed with your treatment of one Harry Potter," said Snape.

"That good-for-nothing lout!?" bellowed the man, momentarily forgetting his fear. "The Useless Freak deserved everything he got and then some!"

"Oh, but I disagree," said Snape. "And you would do well not to call my kind 'freaks' in my presence, Dursley, I do have the upper hand here, in case you have forgotten."

"Look," said the Disgusting Muggle. "You wanted him, you took him, we're glad to be rid of him. I don't know what you're bothering me and my family for now." At some point during the argument, Petunia and Dudley had stuck their respectively thin and narrow and pink and porky heads around the kitchen doorframe in order to see what the commotion was about.

"What I want," smiled Snape evilly, "is revenge. But first: Oro,"* said Snape, his wand pointed at Vernon.

The man immediately fell to his knees, groveling in a most appalling manner.

"That was merely to show you how weak you are," said Snape, lifting his wand, and the curse. Petunia and Dudley were shaking in fear, their morbid curiosities rendering them unable to run as they watched the scene play out in front of them.

"Metus,"** Snape then said, his wand again pointed at Vernon.

Vernon paled somewhere between eight and ten shades. A much better color on him, thought Snape sardonically.

Snape nodded to himself, pleased with his work. Vernon Dursley would now feel a constant sense of dread, of what even he would not know.

Snape turned to leave, but decided on a bit more fun. "Barba,"*** said Snape, his wand pointed at Vernon's overlarge son. Dudley, or something equally (and fittingly) moronic, Snape thought his name was. Snape appraised the effect of his hex, and was satisfied to see the boy now sporting a pink beard that reached down to his knees.

Snape turned heel and left the Dursley residence without further ado.

*Oro is Latin for 'beg.'

**Metus is Latin for 'dread.'

***Barba is, you guessed it, Latin for beard.