A/N: The usual disclaimer applies. Here, Harry gets into the strange room, and finally finds out why he's been changing. Enjoy…

Chapter 5: A Very Gryffindor Tragedy

The door creaked silently open at the last spell Harry said, and he slipped into the room behind it, shutting the door and relocking it with the same spell. Looking around, he saw only what amounted to a small, musty bedroom, complete with a bare, forbidding-looking bed, and a desk and a few broken chairs beside it. A wide, oval gilded mirror was upon the wall the bed laid against, and Harry could see his misty reflection in it, as he shrugged off his invisibility cloak and hastily warded the room against Peeves – or tried to. Harry stilled in shock, seeing the unearthly green shimmer that took hold of the walls, signifying that the room had already been warded – and heavily, too.

Watching the diminishing flicker of the hidden wards fade away, Harry remembered the reason for his quest, and hurriedly pulled out the letter, heart beating fast.

Harry stared at the letter, now that he was assuredly alone, with not a little trepidation. He opened it slowly, dreading what was inside, having scanned it with several spells beforehand – just in case.

It was rather too small an envelope for such a large letter. Maybe his – his father had spelled it to look that way, so he wouldn't suspect anything important. Fat chance of that now, Harry thought bitterly.

As he unfolded the heavy pieces of parchment, a smaller piece fell out, enlarging as it hit the floor of the passageway. Harry seized this eagerly.

Harry, it said, in a cramped, messy hand, do NOT read this at the Gryffindor table. Harry stilled. Actually, the main letter will only activate for the first time if you are alone. Sorry, son – this is too important for anyone else to read.

Harry stared, both at the letter and at his fine long fingers.

This, was truly it. He dropped the now-shrinking piece of parchment back into its magic envelope and took up the larger roll, taking a deep breath.

This, Harry, may be the last time you allow me to call you son. I am heartily sorry for how abrupt this letter may seem, coming to you at Hogwarts during your school year, rather than meeting you at home, but I had no choice. Your mother does not know much of the contents of this letter, so I made sure it would reach you at Hogwarts during term-time, when you would be old enough to truly understand and act on what I am about to tell you.

Harry paused momentarily, then went on.

Harry, you are not my true son.

Harry paused again – he'd expected that, and dreaded the next sentence to follow.

You are, rather, the son of one Severus Snape. You'll have heard of him, most likely from me. We were rivals in school, and probably continue in rivalry till this day. He does not know that you are his son, however, circumstances being as they were.

Before I go on, Harry, I must beg your forgiveness – I was, and am still young and foolish, and my part in what brought this about was the part of the fool, who did not know what was going on around him until the very end.

Harry paused again, the roll of parchment shaking in his hands. He swiped the sheen of sweat off his brow. It did not even occur to him that he could drop the roll now, knowing what he'd suspected for the last few weeks of term – he desperately wanted, needed to know how the whole thing had happened. When the shaking in his hands stilled a bit, he went on.


It was spring, and Lily had just lost her first child, three months into the pregnancy. She'd been on an Order – you'll know what that is, I'm sure – raid when it happened, and the resulting miscarriage was brutal. The healers at St. Mungo's told me to make her rest – to make sure she recovered from the wounds she received both on the battlefield and in the hospital bed where she gave up her first daughter. They examined the tiny thing, and told us both that it wouldn't have survived anyway, and told us we were lucky that this had happened, because it could have killed her during the normal birth.

I took these words to heart, and behaved like it was more of a lucky chance than a tragedy, making my first mistake. Lily grew withdrawn, and we fought more than was healthy, and our small flat grew cold without our conversation. I was frightened then, most of all – I didn't know that the harm to our marriage was yet to be done. We had a large row when I told her she would not be doing any work for the Order for a few months, so she could rest. Lily screamed at me like a mad woman, telling me I could go to hell. I did, leaving her alone in that hollow of a flat, and giving her the space I mistakenly thought she needed. I grew bitter when she continued to ignore me, and my work as an Auror profited from it. I was a splendid Auror for a whole month, and a useless husband for the same.

After a month of avoiding each other and barely talking, Lily began to come out of her shell. She seemed, to me, to have accepted the fact that she wouldn't work with the Order for a while, and was leaving our flat again. She even came with me to look at our present home, pronouncing it perfect in her old, happy tones. I foolishly thought we'd passed our rough patch safely, and soon after that, we moved into the house at Godric's Hollow.

As the war around us escalated, I began to see strange signs of what was going on under my nose. Lily went out a lot, presumably to see her friends – the problem was that she seemed to, a lot of the time, return at odd hours. When I asked her about it, she seemed to agree, and practically laughed it off, and the odd pattern seemed to cease. By then, I was worried, and I began to watch her closely. Then, at the Order meetings, Severus Snape started acting oddly, submitting opinions on our dilemmas that he said came from a 'charms expert' who didn't know whose problems they were helping to solve, whom he worked with occasionally at his research facility. Sirius and Remus laughed that off, saying it sounded like one of Severus' odd, erratic affairs gave him the information in return for sexual relations. I agreed heartily on the surface, but began to panic underneath. For a month I searched and watched and calculated, panicking all the time, and was forced to eventually admit that Lily was having an affair. With whom, I could not, and dared not admit to myself.

The decision was taken forcibly from my hands at the end of that torturous month, when Lily, my furious angel, finally confessed. We had another screaming row that evening, yelling atrocities at each other, until the truth came out. I admit to you now, because you are far away, that I cried along with her – cried for the awful, twisting mess our perfect marriage had become. She made me see that our relationship had never been perfect, and that it was never going to be. She told me that she'd ended it with Severus that night, and I was fiercely glad of that, and – mistakenly – considered that it was all over.

Some months later, Lily was glowing again with pregnancy, and working with the Order once more. We argued the matter and reached a compromise, that she would sit in on the meetings and not go on the raids. Lily was full of joy those nine months, Harry, and let me tell you plainly that that was due to you. You were a perfect baby within her womb, kicking on demand and letting your mother rest when she needed it. I was deliriously happy then, not knowing what stark truth awaited me at St. Mungo's.

When it was time for your mother to give birth, we went gladly to the hospital. It was a long, hard birth, and I feared for her life. When you were finally born, she was unconscious with pain and weariness, and you were given to me to hold. I saw it immediately – you didn't have your hair already, like the Potter babies, according to my dead mother, always did. When I looked at your eyes, they looked more black than anything else. I became afraid again, and I cast a quick glamour on you, so your eyes looked like Lily's, and there appeared to be hair on your head. I selfishly wanted to ascertain the fact for myself first, before I told her.

Ascertain the truth I did, when I returned to Godric's Hollow with your tired mother and your squalling form. I took a lot of the work of feeding and caring for you upon myself, mostly because I wanted to have you on hand, so I could test your paternity. I dreaded the moment and kept putting it off, but when Lily began to recover from her harrowing experience with your birth, I knew I had no time left. I quickly formulated the Scire Paternam potion, and tested it on you. It revealed what I feared – that you were the son of Severus Snape. Anger nearly blinded me that evening. It was awful to realise that Severus, in this contest of wills, had truly won: it seemed not enough for him to take my wife from me, but also my first son. I could not bear it – I swore then, never to let him know the truth. I cast strong spells on you – a glamour that would last for the next six months, while I researched a more long-term solution. In my jealousy and haste, I made you look almost exactly like I did as a baby, and by the time I'd found my solution, everyone believed your extreme likeness to me to be the truth, and I could not remedy my mistake.

I cast the final spell willingly on you, binding it to you for as long as sixteen years with a potion containing my hair and blood. It would keep you looking like me until you were sixteen, and mask any great physical change in you until then as well. This meant some minor changes would also be masked, but I knew it could not be helped.

You were my son by then, Harry, and I could no more give you up than give up my wand arm. Severus hated you for many things then, already, and probably still hates you now, and he would have taken you to spite me. You would have ended up unhappy, Harry, caught in the crossfire of our feud, just like Lily was, for a while. I do not doubt that when he slept with her for the first time, he did it to revenge himself on me, and I will never forgive him, for that. If you now wish to try to know him, it is your choice, and nothing I can say will keep you from him, save this – he was a Death Eater, Harry, before he joined Dumbledore and the rest of us. I never entirely trusted him, and expect you to do the same. If Voldemort still lives, sixteen years from now, I warn you that he can always turn back to his first master, and destroy us all from within as it would please that monster.

We are going into hiding now, Harry, and I fear for us all. I send this letter to you in hope – hope that we survive, hope that you survive, and perhaps survive long enough to see a world without fear. Your enchantment has already, I think, begun to falter and dissolve, and the process will be complete in a few weeks from now. It is up to you, Harry, to decide whether you wish to remain as you were before, or be as you are becoming. If you wish to stay unchanged for a while longer, there is a potion that will assist you – it will need your blood, and the blood of your true father, to work. It will work with the first potion I gave you – it is called, if I recall rightly, the Enchantment Stregnthener. A heavy glamour will not affect the process of the spell wearing off, if you can cast that as well. The only drawback of both the potion and the glamour is that they use some of your magical energy to propagate themselves. You'll experience a slight decrease in magical proficiency at first, as your body readjusts to its former state, but you'll get used to it quickly. If you finally decide to destroy the glamour and potion that maintain your similarity to me, you will become more magically powerful than before, as well.

I know now, that you are confused, and angry, and not a little disgusted with me, and perhaps with your mother. Please remember that I was a fool in many things then, and, to a certain extent, so was she. We were fools to believe that our union needed nothing but love to keep it strong, and that we were infallible, and could not break our vows to each other. I vowed to protect her and cherish her for all time, and I failed for those few months, irrevocably changing all our lives forever. She vowed to stay true to me, and failed for two months, seeing Severus on the side almost every day of the week. Know now, that whether she finds out the real consequences of her duplicity to me or not depends on your decision, and your choice.

I love you now, and always, Harry. And I am sorry, too – now, and always. Do not forsake this old fool completely, if you can.

Your loving friend and protector,

James.


Harry put down the roll of parchment, still with shock, his heart aching for his arrogant, false father and burning against him at the same time. He read the letter again, not quite grasping what had happened. His – James had been so arrogant – running around, making spur-of-the-moment decisions on the basis of rivalry, now carelessly giving him the terrible truth he could have destroyed his mother with if she was still alive…

He jammed the offending roll back into its envelope, trying to gather his thoughts. A roiling mass seemed to fill his head, thoughts whirling around at the speed of light, so he could barely grasp what he was doing or thinking, sitting in here –

A glamour that fed on me, he whispered to himself. Such arrogance – such madness – Shaking his head violently, he raised his wand, copying the contents of the envelope, protective spells and all, and stuffing the copy into the pocket of his shabby jacket, shakily spelling it further so anyone else that touched it without his permission would acquire nothing more than a nasty burn. That done, Harry sank to a sitting position, curling up with the deceptively small envelope, and cried.

For his mother, confused and aching and lonely enough to turn to Severus Snape for comfort James Potter had been too foolish and stubborn to give.

For James himself, wild with panic and anger and betrayal, feelings strong enough to drive him to hide this terrible, terrible secret from everyone, even from Dumbledore, whom he'd evidently respected.

And, finally, for his true father, his heart eaten away with bitterness at the thought of his rival snatching away the woman who had been his Lily for all of two months.

Harry cried for what seemed a long time, lost in the memories of his confused, fearful parents, fighting and reconciling in the small cottage that would soon be destroyed.

The tears eventually ceased, leaving behind a momentary feeling of hopelessness that Harry soon shook off. He got to his feet, thoughts racing slower now, his mind determining what he'd need to do to prove this hard truth, and tell Dumbledore, and maybe Snape…

Harry burst from the hidden room almost eagerly, strengthened with the truth. At least, he thought to himself, it wasn't rape, or some plan by Voldemort – my – my mum had me willingly… He started the long climb upwards to Gryffindor Tower, wondering, planning –

He'd get Snape's blood somehow – maybe during Occlumency, or detention – so he could prove it to Dumbledore, and to Snape, and even to himself. The desire to tell his friends rose in his mind, and was pushed down. They didn't deserve to know – not with Hermione and Ron acting like they were, and Ginny being so distant and odd…Harry's heart sunk within him as he suddenly remembered someone else he'd need to tell – Remus. Harry shook his head despondently to himself, giving up the password to the Fat Lady's portrait without thought.

Can't tell him either – not yet, and not by owl – it'll break him… For a moment, as Harry looked defiantly round at the small group of his closest friends by the fire, his heart burned with bitterness. Look at them, he felt like hissing, all lost in their happy little lives…and me, standing here, having to apologise for why my life is so messed up that I don't want to talk about it…

And Harry strode over to the worried-looking group of Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville, feeling icy resolve not to tell them anything about his discovery grip him, spreading through his very bones. The common room was emptied now – they seemed to be the only people in it, at any rate, all huddling together and talking quietly, no doubt about what Harry had done now. Collecting himself again, he sat down with a thump.

They all looked at him silently. Harry stared down at his hands. He wasn't going to start this. In the end, it was Ginny's soft tone that broke the silence.

"We've been worried, Harry – where have you been?"

"Out walking, like I said I'd be," Harry returned easily. He could do this. He would do this.

"Walking where?" Hermione cut in, sharply. Harry slowed his beating heart, forcing an appearance of calm onto his face. "You're flushed – what were you really doing?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I went out to have a nice hard wank?" Harry shot back defiantly, suddenly realising how very funny this situation – this interrogation, more like – was becoming. They all gasped, reddening at the thought. Harry's cheeks remained unblushing, which he was fiercely proud of. A change he actually wanted to keep, come to think of it.

"Probably not," Ron returned, turning serious blue eyes on Harry, the embarrassed grin fading from his face.

"We'd actually be a lot less worried if we knew that was what you were sneaking off to do all the time, Harry," came Ginny's playful, yet serious rejoinder. "Honestly, Harry, tell us – we've seen it so many times: someone says something you don't like, you get blindingly angry, and stalk off to who-knows-where for half an hour…"

"…and come back looking all relaxed," Neville finished for her, shooting a shy grin at Harry, who snorted.

"Sounds much weirder when you put it that way…" he began, automatically reaching out to ruffle his hair. He did it carefully, not letting any fall into his face, noticing Hermione's bright eyes narrow slightly at him. He ignored the look she gave Ron as Ginny continued.

"…you know, now that you mention it, you could've been wanking, actually," she said, mock-seriously. "Tell us, Potter – have you been wanking to manage your excessive temper?" Harry smiled carefully, having rehearsed the movement a few times earlier this week once he'd realised his smile looked more and more like Sna – his father's. The smile dropped off his face abruptly at the thought, and he answered her slowly, more seriously than he'd intended.

"No, Ginny, I've just been….letting off some steam, sort of – you know – getting rid of some stress and everything…" he trailed off, seeing the odd, knowing looks his friends now exchanged. "What?" he asked, a little more defensively than he would've liked. "You don't believe me – "

"Sorry, mate, but what you just said sounds a lot like wanking to me," Ron put in, a lopsided grin on his face. Harry stared at him, incredulously.

"You all do know it was a joke, right? I mean…"

"It's not that, Harry," Hermione said, impatiently. "We just think that the idea of – of doing that may not be far off from what you're really doing." Harry tried hard not to scowl at them, his bewilderment increasing by the second.

"What she means, Harry," Ginny added, pushing shiny red hair behind her ears, "is that she thinks you're sneaking off to meet someone at odd times." Harry's mouth fell open automatically, and he was thankful for that. He wasn't really so shocked – he should've known, babbling about 'having to do something' and 'going to meet someone' and so on. He spluttered, wishing his old ability to turn red was back, so he could make his disbelief convincing. If they only knew just how far from the truth they were –

"You did say something about meeting someone tonight, Harry," Ron was saying earnestly. "And there was that owl as well – you didn't tell me if it had a letter or not – "

"It didn't," Harry said sharply, all too aware that two copies of that letter resided on him at the very moment.

"We believe you, Harry," Hermione said, hastily, darting a quick glance at Ginny. "Don't worry about the owl – we just wanted to say we're here for you – "

"No matter who you go out with," Neville said, firmly, eyes shining earnestly. For a moment, Harry could not for the life of him understand what his friends were so clumsily trying to say. That moment lasted only until Ron opened his mouth, firmly putting his foot in it.

"It's all right among wizards, you know, Harry – no one really cares if you like a blo– " Hermione nudged him violently with a foot, stopping his eager tirade. Ron turned on her angrily, ignoring the twin spots of colour that were now violently showing on Harry's face.

"What?" He began, eyes widening dramatically. "You can't think – you can't think I'm a – Ron, are you – are you trying to tell me – you think that I'm – I'm gay?" Four pairs of guilty eyes landed on him as Ginny rushed to salvage the situation.

"We know you've been meeting someone – we just didn't know why you wouldn't want to tell us, Harry – we just thought – "

"You've got the wrong end of the stick, all of you…" Harry said, leaning forward and gesturing wildly with his hands. "I'm not – "

"Then who are you going out with? You went to see him – or her this evening during dinner, Harry – we saw you leave – "

"I'm not going out with anyone – " Harry was starting to shout, wondering wildly how everything had got to this. "I just went to the Room of Requirement – every time – just to do duelling practice, honestly…"

"Oh, come off it, Harry – there's no need to be ashamed of it…" Neville was on his knees now, gesturing excitedly.

"I'm not ashamed!" Harry yelled at them all. His friends looked so horrifyingly disbelieving that it had galvanised him to his feet. He forced himself to sit down again, and to speak lower, so that no one but them could hear what he was about to admit. "Listen – I'm not gay, alright – Ginny," he began, desperately, "d'you remember the morning we left for Hogwarts?"

"Harry," she began dubiously, but he cut her off.

"You don't remember me seeing you – in – in the shower?" He swallowed, as Ginny's eyes widened.

"Oh – " she seemed to be trying not to blush and grin at the same time. "You were really embarrassed, yeah, but – "

"Can you think of a reason why I was embarrassed?" At the slight shake of long red hair, he continued, cheeks flaming violently. "God, Ginny, don't make me spell it out – oh – fine, let's just – let's just say…you're definitely not a little girl anymore, okay?" Ginny's cheeks flamed to match his, her mouth dropping slowly open even as he forced himself to finish. "And – well, I'm a boy, and it – er – affected me…" Chancing a look at his friends' faces now, he leapt quickly to his feet. "I'll just go to bed now…"

"No you don't – what do you mean, you 'saw her in the shower', Harry? What on earth were you doing seeing my sister in the shower…?" Ron began, eyebrows knitting together in anger. Before Harry could fire back a retort, Ginny cut in, reaching out to pull him back to his seated position.

"Oh, let it go, Ron – it was a mistake, he thought I was you, hogging the water like you normally do – sit down, Harry – " And then, she blushed again, letting go of his arm as if she'd just realised she'd been touching him. Harry sat down, the burning of his face starting to reduce. "I'm – er – really sorry I had to – er – make you say that, Harry…" Ginny trailed off, not looking him in the eye. Harry looked furtively at the rest of his friends: Neville was still unbelievably red, as was Hermione, whose eyes now positively shone with mirth. Some of the old anger, previously displaced by his extreme embarrassment, came welling up, and it made Harry's tone a little bit curt.

"Anything else you need to know?" he said, trying not to grind out the words between his teeth. He didn't want to think about what he'd just said to all four of them, not till he was safely away with the letter hidden in his trunk upstairs. Hermione sobered a little, looking contrite.

"Sorry, Harry, but – "

"Get on with it – "

" – you said you were going to the Room of Requirement to duel, right?" Hermione got out, her cheeks now merely a little pink. Harry nodded tersely, wondering when this awful question-and-answer session would end. "Did you go there tonight?" Harry paused for a minute, then sighed, hoping they would believe his vague excuse.

"I was upset, Hermione," he began truthfully. "I just walked around for a bit, like I said I would. I just didn't feel like being around anyone after that stupid detention with Veron, and the Occlumency lesson I had with Professor Snape just made everything worse…" He trailed off, noting Neville's blanched, sympathetic face, and Hermione, Ron and Ginny's solemn ones. He kept the weary, worn down look on his face as best as he could, breathing slowly. When no one answered, he rose slowly to his feet, offering a few last words. "I'm sorry if I was short with you – I just haven't been – dealing with anything well, today. See you all tomorrow, then?"

At their solemn nods of farewell, Harry left the common room, rapidly making for his bed, inwardly singing the praises of the new control over his expressions, which he'd had to learn to avert suspicion. He hid the copy of the letter in his school bag, which was still dusty, and the original he slid into his trunk, concealing it carefully in the pages of his leather-bound duelling notebook. Sealing their locations with wards so only he could find them – no harm in being too careful – he shed his dirty, ragged clothes, tumbling rapidly into bed.

In bed, the thoughts of his awkward situation raced through his head, keeping him awake far after Ron and Neville's sleepy footsteps stumbled through the boys' dorm.

Forcefully filling his mind with water, desperate now for some sleep, he gradually felt himself drift off into a strange dream, where he looked and moved and talked like Professor Snape, instead of himself, and he was leering at Ginny across the Great Hall at Breakfast. He'd just walked up to the Gryffindor table and started flirting skilfully with the blushing girl, when he jolted suddenly awake.

Just a dream, he told himself firmly, willing himself back into the ocean, and into less clear dreams for the rest of the night.


A/N: And here it is, the foundation for my Saga. From here, the main events will start to occur, drawing Harry farther and farther from his friends, and eventually into an unspeakably dangerous situation, near the end. Just for your information, I intend this story to stretch about fifteen chapters long, give or take one chapter. Of course, it's going to have two or three sequels following it, so it's not ending completely…Till the next chapter, which may take me some time to put together…