Notes: This story is originally published on AO3, and I used my iPhone to publish from there. I will be using my new (but used) laptop to publish on this site. There will be very slow updates, since I'll have to do A LOT of editing for the first 20 chapters (I began this story almost a year ago and it is popular on A03 (based on the hits and kudos, I guess?)) I hope you enjoy! Oh, and this doesn't have any beta, so there will be grammar mistakes and lots of plot holes like swiss cheese. Please bear with me, I've never used the desktop version of this site! Also, I had a previous copy of this fic, but it sucked without the editing and it was published on my iPhone and I have no idea how I managed to achieve that, so I deleted it and uploaded this one in its place.

Consider it to say it's rewritten!

Walking Down the Forbidden Memory Lane

Harry sat in a chair that had its back facing the door from inside Professor Snape's potions office.

"Clear your mind," the Potions Master demanded silkily, "let go of your emotions..."

Harry closed his eyes and tried, really tried, but it didn't seem to work. Ever since he'd arrived, there was a strange tightness in the back of his mind and it'd been increasingly getting more and more painful.

"One..."

Oh, he was going to do it!

"Two..."

Shit! Clear your mind!

"Three! Legilimens!"

Harry was in a tree, being chased by Aunt Marge's dog, Ripper while his cousin and his friends laughed at him...

Aunt Petunia was swinging a frying pan at his head and he was ducking low...

He was in the Room of Hidden Things, Cho standing in front of him, leaning closer and closer...

Then there was a snag. Professor Snape hit a spot in his mind that seemed to be blanketed by something.

Then he pulled out of Harry's mind with an unreadable expression on his face.

"How interesting... a block on your mind..."

Harry had fallen to his knees and the chair had fallen sideways onto the floor. He was coated in a thin layer of sweat.

"Again!" Professor Snape suddenly barked.

Harry held out a hand, crying out, "Wait! Let me just... get back on the chair..."

He quickly righted the chair and sat himself onto it. He looked at Professor Snape in the eyes.

"One..."

Harry sucked in a breath.

"Two..."

He closed his eyes.

"Three! Legilimens!"

Immediately, the tightness in Harry's mind snapped and he was confronted with an assault of memories he never knew he had. He vaguely heard himself cry out in pain.

He is an infant, and is watching colorful smoke puff out the tip of a familiar, bone-white wand. His eyes turn to face a young Tom Riddle, smiling with such joy and love.

"My beautiful son... you'll do great things one day..."

He is crawling on all fours, trying out reach a squealing, silver-eyed Draco Malfoy who is crawling away from him, a bright smile upon his toothless mouth.

Then he's staring into the blue eyes of the Headmaster. They are no longer twinkling and look quite cold. He's in a fancy crib and it's dark out.

"I'm sorry, m'boy, but this necessary. For the greater good."

He's pulled from the rush of memories, but his body is in immense pain. It feels as if his bones are breaking and reforming. His scalp crawls like a thousand insects and his eyes burn.

As the transformation slows, he cormes to senses and realizes that it was far too quiet. Deathly still.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" Snape demands.

Harry, from his kneeled position, looks up. "I don't know." His mind is reeling. Tom Riddle called him his son! And he'd known Draco even before he was a year old!

What was going on?

He stands and finds that he's tall. Much taller. He pretty much towers over Professor Snape.

They lock eyes and Professor Snape's face pales dramatically.

"Albus Dumbledore put a glamour on you." He said bluntly.

Harry sucked in a breath. "I'm not a Potter, am I?"

Professor Snape shook his head.

A rush of panic bursts through Harry and a small keening noise escapes his lips. Professor Snape suddenly cries out, gripping his left arm. Harry notices.

"Stop that!" The Potions Master demands.

Harry tries to calm down, but nothing's working. He can feel his magic whipping out and testing for any threats. Harry takes his a deep breath and let's out a long exhale. He feels his magic rein in like a leash.

I'm fine.

I'm not in immediate danger.

He opens his eyes. "What do I look like?"

"Who do you think?"

"I want to see."

Snape conjures a mirror and hands it to Harry, who is suddenly enraptured in his new body.

His hair isn't the usual Potter mess, but now a silky sheen of black with gentle waves cascading off his scalp. A strip of whiteish-silver streaks down a piece of his curly bangs. His cheekbones are higher and more prominent and his skin is more of a chalky white than a light golden brown.

And his eyes...

One is a mix of a stormy sea and a light shade of grey. A kind of silver. The other is a bleeding, crimson red.

An exact replica of one Tom Riddle.

"Oh God." He covers his mouth in shock and drops the mirror, breaking it upon impact.

Professor Snape doesn't bother to scold him. He, too, is in shock.

"I'm Voldemort's son." Harry whispers, the words feeling like a death sentence.

The professor suddenly grabbed him by the arm. "We're having a word with the Headmaster."