A/N: Here you are, the next chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 4 – The Students

Severus heard Minerva round on Albus with a yell as the door closed, but his mind was frozen by the echo of green eyes. As if alerted by his shock, the little boy – his son – yawned and opened his eyes, frowning over at the door. "They're loud," he whined. "They're louder than Uncle Vernon."

How was he supposed to respond to that? "Well, I'm sure they'll leave soon. Erm... are you hungry?" Severus' gaze flickered to the clock situated near the door to his office. It was almost time for the elves to serve supper in the Great Hall. Bringing Harry onto the scene would start rumors... but the rumors were truth, anyway.

"I want chocolate digestives," Harry demanded, climbing off of Severus' lap and opening the closest drawer. It was full of broken quills and graded essays – Harry took the feather end of one of the quills and peered at it. "Did a bird die? You have lots of feathers."

"No bird was harmed in the making of that quill," Severus joked – but, five years old, Harry didn't quite get it.

Instead, he poked the feather back into the drawer and kept rummaging through the others. "Can't I have chocolate digestives? Aunt Petunia always gave them to Dudley, but she never let me have them, but sometimes the teachers at school would let us have them for a snack."

"I don't have any, I'm afraid," Severus said. He grabbed one of Harry's shoulders and drew him back from the desk lightly. "Harry, did your aunt and uncle tell you what happened to your mum and dad?" Harry frowned and made a grab for something shiny in an open drawer, and Severus closed it sharply. "Harry, this is very important."

Harry pouted and shugged. "Aunt Petunia said they died in a car crash. That's why I have a scar on my head. And Uncle Vernon said they were bums. And that they were freaks – but they weren't freaks, were they?"

"No, they weren't," he murmured. "And Aunt Petunia lied to you. They didn't die in a car crash. Your mum was killed by a very evil man, but she saved your life. She was a hero."

He hadn't been sure if a five-year-old's mind could comprehend that sort of information – after all, the youngest children he'd been aquainted with were eleven – but Harry's eyes widened slowly. "Mum was a hero? Was Dad a hero, too?"

Severus froze. He could lie, pretend that James actually was the boy's father... why lie, though? Someone had to care for the child. He wasn't sure how he'd bring up a child, but it was his duty. He could do his best to make sure that Harry's life didn't turn into an echo of his own. Severus cleared his throat. "Erm... not quite a hero." He hesitated as some of the light bled from Harry's features. "You see, Harry... I'm your dad."

With barely a pause for breath, Harry demanded, "Why did you make me live with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon?"

"I didn't know you were there," Severus said truthfully. "If I'd known... God, if anyone had told me the truth, I'd have been there in a heartbeat. There's so much that I can't explain. I don't even know the whole story. I'm so sorry, Harry."

His face scrunched up in thought, as if deciding whether or not to take the story as truth, before he scrambled back onto Severus' lap for a hug. "Hi, Daddy," he whispered.

"Hi, Harry," Severus whispered back. "I'm glad you're here."

Harry nodded and pulled back from the hug. A hint of a smile appeared on his face. "Can I please have some chocolate digestives?"

He couldn't help but laugh. Sweeping Harry into another hug, he stood from the chair and headed for the door. "We'll see what we can do about that."

+

"That kid's with him again," Charlie hissed, straining to see over the top of Melissa's head. The little boy – he couldn't be more than three or four – was sitting on the professor's lap and munching on a very large pile of chocolate digestives that Charlie had watched Snape steal from the end of the Slytherin table. "Bill, did you know that Snape has a kid?"

Charlie's older brother, who'd been flirting with a Hufflepuff sixth-year at the table behind them, turned around sharply. "He what -?" A long, impassive gaze was sent up at the High Table before Bill shook his head. "There's no way. Well, the kid looks just like him – the little bugger has to be a cousin or something. Severu- erm, Professor Snape didn't have a girlfriend when I knew him in his seventh year. Peter told me he'd dated Lily Evans for a bit before she ended up with James Potter... umm, there were rumors he dated the woman who married Lucius Malfoy, but I only heard it third-hand. I suppose there were five years in there that I didn't know him, but I met up with him in Diagon Alley in '82, and he was alone -"

"He called him Harry," Melissa said. "Do you think he might be Harry Potter? Natalie's uncle was attacked – he was an Auror, do you think maybe he was protecting Harry Potter, and now he's been brought here? Wasn't the Auror who came running in one of James Potter's friends?" As a Muggleborn, Melissa had fallen in love with the tale of Lily Evans, the Muggleborn who'd married the handsome son of Henry Potter, Auror extraordinaire. She desperately wanted to meet the Boy Who Lived, if only to say she'd met Lily Evans' son.

Bill gave a snort and shook his head. "Mel, you've seen enough pictures of James Potter – that kid up there is pure Snape. Yes, he has green eyes... well so does my aunt Julia, and she's obviously not Harry Potter."

"But he's the right age!"

"I knew James. Not well, but he was Head Boy my first year – everybody knew James. If that's James' son, I'll eat my Head Boy badge. Now, leave the poor Professor alone – he's been falsely accused of enough in his life, alright?" Bill glared at the fourth-years and turned back to the Hufflepuff girl with an apology.

Charlie scowled and rose from his seat to take a good look at the child again. "It's gotta be Snape's kid. Uh oh -" He sat down quickly and ducked his head behind the row of Gryffindors on the other side of the table.

"Did he see you?" Phillip demanded. "Damn, I bet he's in a terrible mood, if he has to watch some kid. Do you think you could push me down the stairs so I'll be too injured to go to class tomorrow?"

"Only if you push me first," Melissa countered. "He has it in for me. It's because my mum spilled ice cream on his robes in Diagon Alley, I'm sure of it!"

"Honestly, Mel, that's ridiculous," Becca Wood shot in. She was only a third-year, but was an excellent Chaser anyways. "He's cruel, not vindictive. It's because you're Muggleborn – everyone knows he was a Death Eater. My uncle said that it was Dumbledore who got him out of Azkaban. I think they must be related."

Melissa gave a snort and poked at her supper. "That's just a rumor. Dumbledore wouldn't let a Death Eater walk free. Hey, maybe he was married to Dumbledore's granddaughter and she mysteriously died – that would be why the kid's here, and why Dumbledore helped him out of Azkaban! They had a secret love affair in the Alps, but Snape had to leave her to return to England and help with the war efforts – that's why he's so snarky; it's because his lover died before he could return to her with news of the victory of the Light!"

"You've been reading romance novels again," Charlie said accusingly. "Honestly, you're almost fifteen – you shouldn't be reading crap like that anymore. Think how much better you'd be on your broom if you spent all that time practicing!"

"I like my romance novels," Melissa sniffed, turning up her nose. "They're more enjoyable than those ridiculous Sport magazines you and Phillip subscribe to."

Phillip held up his hands and leaned back. "Hey, watch it – I didn't say anything about the crap- er, romance novels."

"Don't insult my Quidditch Weekly. Fine reading it is," Charlie countered. "C'mon, let's get back to the Common Room. I've got Potions homework for tomorrow, and I'm not facing Mr. Crabby after a sleepless night with a baby."

"He's not a baby, he's probably four or five!" Becca exclaimed, but she was on her feet even before Charlie. Phillip was just positive that Becca fancied Charlie – he'd denied it, but it seemed the Beater was probably right.

They were half-way across the Entrance Hall before Dina Lestrange caught up with them. "Weasley – does your brother know who the kid is?" she demanded.

She came alone. It probably wasn't a trap, then, so Charlie stopped, letting the three others back him up in case of a fight. Slytherin-Gryffindor meetings often degenerated into such, especially in the wake of the Troubles. "He doesn't," Charlie said cautiously. "I thought you'd know, being of his House and all. He's the one the Auror came running in with, right? No one's certain."

"He's the same kid," Dina confirmed. "I was sitting at the end of the table when the Auror came in. Matt thought he might be Harry Potter from the look on old McGonagall's face -" she winced, eyes haunted by some unknown guilt "- but I guess he's not. I thought your brother might know if Snape was seeing someone..."

Charlie shook his head. "No information from that end. He told me to bugger off. But the kid's name is Harry. I guess it's a rather common name..."

"Yeah, like Prince Harry," Melissa stuck in, seeming desperate to be in on the conversation. "There are plenty of Harrys around. For all we know, it's just a diminuative for something, anyways. The Auror Henry Potter was known as Harry -"

Dina cut her off before she could go into Pottermaniac mode. "Look, if you hear anything – I'd ask my parents, but -" She stopped short, the look of guilt entering her face again. "I'll tell you if you'll tell me," she finally finished, offering a hand to Charlie. "I'm desperate to know what's going on. If that's Harry Potter..." she shook her head, hand still extended. "I hope it's not."

Phillip's eyes were narrowed, but Charlie took Dina's hand anyway. "It's a deal. Any information will be passed along. I want to know what's up as much as you do."

"Maybe not that much," Dina countered, drawing her hand away. "See you in Potions." She turned and stalked off.

Phillip waited until she'd rounded the corner before turning on Charlie. "What in Merlin's name are you thinking? Did you see her face – there's something else going on! Everyone's tossing around the name Potter. What's happened that we don't know about?"

"I don't know," Charlie murmured, "but I think my dad will..." He turned and took the stairs two at a time, destination dead set on the Owlery. The mystery would be solved, soon enough...

+

Meanwhile, at the Head Table, Harry was busying himself with climbing all over Daddy's lap to get at the biscuits on the table and, after he'd had his fill, scurrying up and down behind the table to offer them to the grown-ups sitting there. Daddy thought it was funny, especially when Harry left a stack of chocolate digestives on Aunt Min's chair, with the chocolate side up so she'd be certain to see how good they were, when she went off to the loo. Harry tried very hard to hide from the man with the beard – the one who cut up his hand until it bled. He was scary, but Aunt Min was nice, even if she did look at Daddy funny when he started laughing after she sat on all the nice digestives.

Harry tiptoed around the big chair that the old man sat in – he had a name, but Harry was too scared to ask what to call him – and scurried around the chair of the lady who wore more perfume than Aunt Petunia when the neighbors came for tea and past the little man who wasn't any taller than Harry until he came to the biggest person Harry had ever seen. Mum Pomfrey had taken Harry to tea with Hagrid. There hadn't been any chocolate digestives, and the scones that Hagrid made tasted icky, but Hagrid took Harry walking along the lake, and they saw the squid. "Do you want a chocolate digestive?" Harry asked, offering a stack.

Hagrid beamed and pulled Harry up onto his lap. "Al'ays love a good digestive," Hagrid boomed.

Harry giggled. Daddy called Hagrid a big, hairy oaf, and he certainly was big and hairy, but Harry didn't know what an oaf was. Hagrid had a big dog, too, and Harry loved dogs. Anyone with a dog had to be good.

And suddenly, Harry was distracted by a ginger-haired boy who came up to the table and set an owl on the table in front of Hagrid. "I'm sorry to bother you, Hagrid, but Errol's not looking so good – he's been sort of limp since Mum sent me a letter yesterday. He's six years old, already, so he's not the youngest of creatures -"

"Doan' mind it, Bill. If I was you, I'd jes take im over to the Menagerie at the weekend. Ain't that ol' yet." Hagrid grinned and patted the owl on the head, squashing Harry against the arm of the chair.

Harry, for that matter, was too enthralled by the owl to take much notice. The owl was blinking and looking at Harry, and he scooted to the front of Hagrid's rather large lap to get closer to it. The closest he'd ever been to a real animal was when Aunt Marge brought her smelly dogs – they weren't proper dogs, so he didn't have to like her – when she'd stayed for the week. "He won't bite," the older boy said suddenly, reaching out to grab Harry's hand and direct him to the owl. A day was hardly enough to change the reflex in Harry's brain, however – a hand grabbing was a bad thing, that usually led to a smack. Harry cringed away and scrambled off of Hagrid's lap.

Bill's eyes narrowed and he stared at Harry's forehead. Harry ducked behind the nearest chair – the little man's – to hide. He pushed down the hair on his forehead deliberately. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't like to see the scar. They thought it was ugly.

The older boy had rounded Hagrid's chair and was coming closer, but Harry felt himself swept up into a pair of increasinly-familiar arms before the boy could smack him for trying to touch the owl. "Daddy!" he squealed, hiding his face in Daddy's black coat so that Bill would go away.

Daddy and Bill started talking though. "May I help you, Mr. Weasley?" Daddy asked.

"So that is your kid?" Harry didn't like the way Bill sounded, so he turned his face around and glared at Bill. He wouldn't stick his tongue out, though – he would save that until Bill said something really bad. Daddy sounded like he didn't like Bill, so Harry wouldn't either. "I'm sorry, but it looked sort of like he had a scar on his -"

"This is my son, and it's none of your business," Daddy snapped. "Get back to the Gryffindor table or I may take points – and take care you don't gossip."

Bill frowned. "I'm not the one gossiping. It's rather uncommon for professors to bring their children around. There are all sorts of theories floating around in Gryffindor that don't even bear repeating – one of Charlie's friends started making up stories about mad love affairs in Venice. You might want to quell some of those, Severus."

Daddy was scowling even more. "You might be Head Boy, but proper respect should be owed to Professors -"

Bill slammed his hand on the table, and Hagrid looked worried. "Sorry, sir, but that would probably be easier if I hadn't gone to school with you -"

"Gentlemen, there's no need to row," a voice said from behind them. Harry turned around and saw the old man with the beard standing next to Daddy, and before he could cringe away, the old man patted him on the head. It felt all tingly, as if the man had done something magic to him. Harry whimpered and ducked his head behind Daddy's shoulder. "Now then, Mr. Weasley, go on back to your Common Room."

There were footsteps, and Harry turned his head to watch Bill go out of the hall. "Harry, Professor Dumbledore isn't going to hurt you," Daddy said.

Harry glared at Professor Dumbledore over Daddy's shoulder. "He cut my finger," Harry hissed, "and he just did magic to my head!"

"I used a glamour to hide the scar," Professor Dumbledore said. "It was too close, Severus. There are some steps we must take... and legalities to set... if you'll find someone to watch Harry...?" Professor Dumbledore looked sad, but Harry still thought he was dangerous.

"In a moment," Daddy said. He walked over to the giant window looking out of the hall and let Harry sit on the sill. "Do you know what your whole name is?"

Harry frowned. "Of course I know what my name is. What's your whole name, Daddy?"

"Severus Thermopolis Snape. Which means that your whole name is..." Daddy leaned forward and poked Harry in the stomach, making him giggle.

"Aunt Petunia said it was Harry Potter, but aren't I supposed to have the same last name as you? Because you're my Daddy? Dudley's last name is the same as Uncle Vernon's." Harry thought Snape sounded silly, but it was Daddy's name, so he supposed it was his, too.

Daddy smiled and nodded. "Exactly. Aunt Petunia had it wrong. She was lying. And Harry's just a nickname, did you know that? A short name for a short person." Daddy winked.

Harry giggled. "I have a short name? Aunt Petunia never said my name was short."

"Herodos Iamus Snape. That's your whole name. It's Greek."

"Ew." Harry didn't know what Greek was, but what kind of name was Herodos? It was sillier than Snape!

Daddy snickered. "Well, that's why you have a short name, isn't it. Harry's a good nickname. But when someone asks what your whole name is, that's what you answer."

"Well of course it is," Harry said. If that was his whole name, he'd have to use it, even if it was silly and Greek. Dudley didn't like his name either. "Will you let me play with Aunt Min?"

"She's busy. But maybe you'd like to go play with some of my students? They're older than you, but they can show you all kinds of fun magical games that I know you've never seen before. Exploding Snap is fun. It's a card game – they'll teach you it." Daddy held out his arms.

After frowning and thinking about it for a minute, Harry nodded and let Daddy pick him up again. He was too big to get picked up, but Daddy didn't mind, and Uncle Vernon always used to carry Dudley around before Dudley got so heavy that Uncle Vernon couldn't pick him up... Harry liked being carried, because he knew that Dudley couldn't be.