A/N

This is the second chapter I've posted since I took more than a year off for various personal reasons, but I'm back now and looking at the story in a whole new light. I've had a lot of time to think of where the story is going and I think I know where the whole story might lead. For now, I'm just concentrating on closing a few of my many loose-ends.

For my long-term readers (and to some I met recently, just drop me a PM so I know you're out there) I'd really appreciate a bit of feedback about whether or not the tone has changed between this and previous chapters. I know for a fact my writing has changed a lot in the intervening 13-months.

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There is a disclaimer on all previous chapters and I do not recommend you reading this or any subsequent chapters before the earlier ones. This is a major reimagining of the original narrative of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and really needs to be read from the start.

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Chapter 31: Snow and Questions, Both in Piles.

Following the magnificent Yule feast on the twenty-first, Hermione, Fay, Tonks, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia all hugged Harry goodbye on the platform at Hogsmeade station the day before Christmas Eve. Ron, Fred, George and Percy were all remaining over the holidays while their parents spent them with their older brother Bill in Romania who was working with dragons. He was glad that the Gryffindor common room wouldn't be completely deserted, but he'd come to realise that he was missing that he hadn't had chance to notice before: being alone.

Harry had spent most of his childhood alone, with only a handful of friends, most of whom were too afraid to get too close because of Dudley or his aunt and uncle's nastiness in all things Harry-related.

"I'll be fine, I'm looking forward to it." he said into Hermione's shoulder as she hugged him again. He seemed to be getting used to being hugged as he hadn't tensed up so much the last few times.

He stood, dwarfed next to Hagrid's massive bulk as the platform emptied. He hadn't seen much of Hagrid the last few days since a massive snowstorm had buried the castle in almost six feet of snow and going out was just too complicated.

As the train pulled away in a blast of steam and arms waving from the carriages, Hagrid turned to Harry and looked down at him.

"So Harry, ye alright? Can't say I blame ye for not wanting to go back to those bleedin' muggles of yours."

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't really mind, they just ignore me most of the time anyway. This place just feels more like home already really."

Hagrid's face crumpled into a smile. "I know exactly what ye mean. What're you gonna be up to today?"

Harry shrugged, "Not sure, I can't really get to the quidditch pitch with all the snow…"

Hagrid beamed at him. It's so nice that you like quidditch like your old man. Here, Harry… I'm sorry I've been in such a mood recently, it's just that I lost something that was real important to me, y'see… stupid really…"

Harry's mind wandered to Nidhogg while Hagrid went off on a mumbling, rambling confession of how he'd been a 'pretty shoddy friend' the last few months. Harry wondered what had become of Nihogg, what changes whatever he'd done with the dragon egg had wrought.

A pat on his shoulder heavy enough to buckle his knees bought him back.

"That okay Harry?"

"Umm… yeah, great."

"Excellent, well I'm sure you'll love them too, I have to go to try and sort everything out, can't have them keep dying like they are, far too valuable and… well just wonderful really. About ten pm tonight okay? They're not as serious about you settling down over the Yule break."

"Yeah, ten would be great." Harry said, scrambling for a handhold in the conversation. "Where… should I meet you?"

"Oh, the front gates'll do, I'll take you from there. The snow's pretty thick in places still, don't bother me, mind. It's pretty warm there, so don't bother wearing a big heavy cloak or nothin'."

Harry was baffled. He had no idea what was happening at ten that night. "Sure."

Hagrid's beetle black eyes crinkled into a grin, "Brilliant 'Arry, brilliant. I know you'll love em too. I'll see you later, have to go'n feed the chickens." He said, striding off back up toward the castle.

Harry nodded, "See you later…" he said tentatively before heading back to the carriages which would take him back as well.

As the carriages took Harry up the hill and through the great school gates, he looked up in wonder at the enormous twists of black metal which serpentined in impossibly elaborate patterns that confused the eye, suggesting at one moment the presence of words then faces then monsters. The school, from his vantage at the bottom of the hill was breath-taking. Wreathed and blanketed by snow it was such a beautiful building that Harry wished he could never leave; that it could become the thing he'd not had since his earliest childhood: A home.

The empty carriages moved off around the castle and out of sight while the handful carrying people retuning from seeing friends off pulled up at the main entrance for their passengers to dismount. Exactly twelve left the carriages; five eagles, three snakes, four lions – not counting himself – and a single, very forlorn looking badger. A few of them looked his way as they made their own way inside through the enormous front doors. He smiled at most.

The Gryffindor common room was virtually deserted. A couple of the harassed-looking seventh years were still hunched over their books and didn't look up as he entered. He went up to the silent dorm and fished out his copies of Lineage and Lives: An Examination of the Great Houses of Britain and Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy then returning to the common room where he made his way over to the fireplace which was roaring as usual and wriggled all the way back into one of the giant and very ancient squashy armchairs. He read for about twenty minutes, looking into the origins of House Potter and how it had grown outward resulting in himself as the future head. Before him the head had been James Potter II, his father. Before that was Eric Potter, his grandfather and going all the way back almost a thousand years to the marriage of Aethelflaed, daughter and only child of Ignotus Peverell IV to Roland Thorrson – a member of the newfound Viking Aristocracy in Britain.

Roland and Aethelflaed's family had a significant hand in the building of the former magic quarter in what would become the city of York before becoming famous for their pottery. The name had stuck since. It turned out that Harry had a great many distantly related cousins and other family that had either married out of or simply changed their surnames.

Fascinated, he went to the library, amazed that he might actually have some really living family – wizard family. After only a few minutes, he discovered links to more than a dozen other houses including several overseas. It seemed that more than half of House Potter had travelled to America during the early mass emigrations. His namesake, the original Harry Potter had, after arguing with the old head of the family Octavius Emerich Potter, taken himself, his wife Christine, their four children and more than twenty cousins to settle somewhere around the Iowa area. In later life, his great-grandson Harry Potter II had a pivotal role in the founding of the Massachusetts Institute of Magic and Thaumaturgy.

He had family.

Tempted as he was to dash off letters to any surviving Potters around the world, he paused over a piece of parchment where he had scribbled a rough family tree. His father had been an only child, but his grandfather one of two boys and two girls: Elizabeth, Rachel, Eric and Robert. Unfortunately, there hadn't been any new information in either of his books to suggest what had happened to his second aunts and uncles as they both concentrated on the immediate families of the heads of houses.

How can such a small family be so great? He asked himself. Lineages and Lives suggested House Potter had made its 'impressive fortunes' due to some very well timed purchasing of land and a scattering of magical discoveries including the creation of a modified arrow deflection charm that was useful against everything from musket balls to rifle bullets that had propelled one Heather Potter to the head of the recently founded Ministry of Magic a little more than four centuries earlier.

But there were so few. He found himself bitterly resenting Eric Potter and his wife Wendy for only having a single child and dooming and of James' future children to relying on his partner to provide aunts, uncles and cousins. For some reason he knew with a precise, razor-sharp certainty that, had they lived, his own parents would have had more children. The idea that he could have been the first of many, to lead the way for younger brothers and sisters to follow through Hogwarts was too bitter a thought to accept and he swallowed hard, trying to banish the thought.

He quickly sketched a few more lines on his makeshift family tree before shoving it into Nature's Nobility as a bookmark. His stomach growled uncomfortably and he decided to try to speak to McGonagall or Dumbledore when he saw them next, to ask why he'd never met any other members of his family, to find out why he – so obviously magical – had been sent to the most closed-minded muggles he'd ever known. Was it some kind of punishment?

He put most of his books back, leaving the last few on a trolley marked 'Returned Books' then left the library heading for the great hall and lunch.

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His bag was bouncing on his back as he made through the corridors and through the doors into the hall where he was bought up short, lost in thought by bumping right into a slightly yielding black wall.

The wall lurched and cursed under its breath. "Potter! What're you doing here?" said Severus Snape.

Harry adjusted his spectacles which had been knocked askew by the bump and pulled his bag back onto his shoulder. "Sorry, Professor."

Snape crossed his arms in front of him as if he were trying to fold black wings. "You didn't answer my question: What're you doing here?"

"I was just coming up from the library. I've been looking into my family."

Snape raised a single ink-black eyebrow in suspicion. "Why are you still at school? Wanted more time to be idolised by your fans? Spend more time devising ways to break even more rules?"

Harry felt blood rush to his cheeks. "No, I… just didn't want to go back there to them."

"What are you talking about, do you mean your aunt and uncle?"

Harry nodded. "They're my mother's sister and her husband. I hate them." The words came spilling out of him without his knowing they were coming.

"You hate them?" Snape's voice took on a slightly softer tone before hardening again, "let me guess, they don't idolise you as much as the wizarding world and you think that this is grounds to hate them? My word Potter, how very much like your father you are."

Harry felt hot anger rise up in him and he looked up, meeting Snape's eyes for the first time. Snape recoiled at his glance. "No, I hate them because they treated me like an animal my whole life, they told me that my parents were useless layabouts and that they died in a car crash leaving them lumbered with me. They never even told me anything about the wizarding world, I always thought I was just as much a freak as they called me, I only learned about my parents and what I am when Hagrid came to save me back in July."

Snape's brow wrinkled. "You live with… Lilly Evans' relatives?" he asked, like the words cost him a great pain to say.

Harry nodded and frowned himself. "You know – knew – my mother?"

Snape's face tightened for a moment, forming small lines around his mouth and the small nostrils of his long hooked nose flared. An expression of some great pain flashed across his features and he took a half-step back, muttering something to himself that sounded like 'Her eyes' that Harry didn't understand.

Before Harry had chance to react, Snape stepped forward, pushing past him and strode off, walking faster than normal down the corridor and out of sight.

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Harry sat in the Great Hall with Fred and George who had seen the encounter with Snape. They were demolishing plates of sausage and mashed potato while Harry was eating a lunch of roast beef sandwiches and a few pieces of fruit. He'd never seen the massive chamber so empty during a meal time. The only other familiar face was Filch seated on a folding chair in the furthest corner of the teachers' platform and looked to be picking at a pastry which he shared with a mewling Mrs Norris while glaring the whole time at Harry.

The idea that Snape somehow knew his mother was odd. He'd never looked at any of the teachers as anything but just that: teacher. Thinking about it, Snape looked like he could be about the right age to have gone to school with his parents. He'd narrated the encounter to the twins, too mystified to figure anything out for certain.

"I wouldn't worry your head over it mate," Fred said with his mouth full, "so what if he did know your mum too? I mean, it's pretty obvious he knew and hated your dad."

George swallowed just enough to be comprehensible. "Yeah, bear in mind, your dad was a bit of a hot shot here, there are a few awards for him in the trophy room – we've had to polish them often enough: three quidditch cups, two as captain; a prize for transfiguration at OWL, all sorts of stuff. Snape has one for NEWT potions, but who cares about that. Who knows, maybe he fancied your mom?"

Harry almost choked on his sandwich and Fred pounded his back. "What?" he spluttered.

George shrugged, "I don't know do I? Maybe she was really pretty, you said they got together near the end of school, right?"

Harry nodded, "It can't have been that, she was muggleborn and he's a Slytherin. They hate anyone that isn't a pureblood."

Fred laughed, "That's what they say, but there aren't many wizards who are actual purebloods anymore, most of us are actually half-bloods – there just aren't enough pureblood families around anymore, for the most part."

George took over, "In our case mom's family are pureblood all the way back to whenever you want to look, but the her gran, our great-gran came was Norwegian, I think and dad's something like a quarter Russian I think. That's how most pureblood families stay that way. But there are so many more muggleborns now than there used to be, so who knows what's going to happen."

"More muggleborns than there used to be?" Harry asked, curious.

Both twins nodded, "Apparently so, or that's what McGonagall said the other day, apparently when she was a kid – hard to imagine eh? – muggleborns were pretty rare, you got loads of halfbloods, of course; wizards or witches marrying muggles, she says there are more muggleborns every year. Your pal Dean's a muggleborn, right?"

Harry shook his head, "He doesn't know, his mom is definitely a muggle, but he never met his dad."

Fred scratched his cheek with the rear end of his cheek. "Well let's put it this way, McG said everyone was amazed that there was a muggleborn in her year, where you might have two in your house."

"Wow…"

"Yep," said George, "I think there are only three or four in our year and we're only a couple of years above you."

"Did she say why it's happening? McGonagall I mean."

Both twins shook their heads, "There's nothing for certain, apparently. Lee thinks it's because so many of the old families are dying out or just not breeding and the world just knows that more wizards are needed somehow, so it fills a bunch of muggle babies with magic."

"No fear of the Weasleys dying out, eh?" Harry said, smiling. "How did we even get onto this conversation?"

The twins shrugged, "Snape fancying your mom."

Harry shuddered, "Yeah. Thanks." He felt a bit easier about his encounter with Snape, but couldn't shake the feeling that Snape's expression hadn't been one of jealousy, but pain and loss. Was it possible that Lilly Evans had been friends with Sirius Snape? He wanted to find Snape to ask him more, but he didn't show back at the great hall, nor was he to be found in the dungeons, library, teachers' room or even the infirmary all the rest of that day. He found McGonagall, but she was tiredly marking a huge stack of parchments and told him she'd come back to him as soon as possible.

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Harry found Ron in the common room and spent a pleasant hour learning to play wizard chess, which was apparently the same as regular chess, except the pieces were enchanted and would move themselves around the board while giving advice and jeering the other side.

Harry picked up the rules pretty quickly, but it was pretty obvious from his focussed expression and battered soldiers all of whom had grim expressions and moved with a deliberate efficiency that Ron had played a lot. He was a great player, able to see many turns ahead and listened only to one of his knights the one whose horse was missing its right leg and his king who, spoke rarely but sagely.

Unfortunately for Harry, he used Percy's set which, though in fantastic condition, polished like his prefect badge and well drilled for battle, were all a bit half-hearted on the battlefield and had a tendency to cry when they lost.

When they went back down stairs for dinner, they found it snowing heavily again. Hagrid, looking like a giant snowman came in, allowing a viciously cold wind to blow into their faces before slamming the enormous door behind him.

"Evenin' lads," he said, voice muffled by a thick multi-coloured scarf that was wrapped elaborately around his whole face and most of his head and must have been easily as long as a tennis court, "it's a bit blowy out there."

They laughed as Hagrid shook himself violently, depositing a large drift of snow all over the entrance.

"Filch don't dare say anythin' t'me, the snivelling git."

Harry and Ron stared at Hagrid mouths agape.

"Sorry lads," Hagrid said, noting their surprise and walking toward the great hall, "s'just turned into a rough day, is all."

"What's happened Hagrid?" Harry asked, giving chase.

Hadrid paused, scanning the area for onlookers then leaned down to them and spoke in an undertone. "Well y'see… there's something attacking the unicorns in the forest."

"Unicorns in the forest?" Ron burst out with excitement.

Hadrig silenced him with a finger to his lips. "Shut up, don't tell the whole castle!"

"I thought Unicorns are really strong and powerful, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"They are, that's what's so troublin'. Not many things a full grown unicorn mare can't at least fight off, but I found one this afternoon in a right state. I don't like it, not at all. Sorry Harry, but I think we'll have to put off what I wanted to show you until after Christmas."

"Oh, what?" Harry protested. He had gradually been getting more excited about whatever Hagrid had to show him that he would apparently love.

Hagrid shrugged, "Not much I can do really now is there? Can't be taking you out after dark with something strong enough to kill unicorns about."

"How many have died, Hagrid?" Ron asked.

"Well that's part of the mystery Ron." Hagrid said with a sigh. "S'been almost two months since we've had any attacks on them at all. I thought the stuff I'd set up with Professor Kettleburn had worked, but he's off sick at the moment so I'm going right to the headmaster."

The two boys followed, tiny in Hagrid's wake into the great hall where less than fifty students sat, eagerly awaiting the start of dinner. Harry noted the presence of several seventh-years, most with noses in books in one hand with the other clutching spoons or forks. Dumbledore came in through the teachers' door a few moments later followed by Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout.

Snape was still nowhere to be seen.

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