Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not claim any monetary funds or otherwise on the creation of this story. The only things I own are the plot and the loveable original characters coming up in the story. So please, don't sue~!

A/n: Alright. First of all, I'd like to say a big, fat thank you to all my reviewers. All of you were very helpful and encouraging. Second, I noticed that a lot of you were confused about Harry and Severus' apparent miraculous recovery. I hope this chapter will help clear things up for everyone. So please, continue to support me.

A/n 2: Also, it appears I really am in need of a beta. So, if anybody is willing, or if anybody has any recommendations, then please inform me. It would be much appreciate. *gets on with the story*

"I don't think I'll be able to call you that for much longer, Harry, as we'll be looking to change your name, and your identity really, after this… ordeal…"

Correction: His jaw could, indeed, get wider.

"WHAT?!"

Snape sneered, and Harry was suddenly extremely glad for the familiarity of the action, grounding himself by clinging to the last dregs of what he was quickly realizing to be his fading normality. If he hadn't been too busy trying not to hyperventilate, he would've laughed. As it was, the noise he emitted was more of a cross between a dying piglet and a deranged hyena, causing Snape to look at him in alarm and concern.

Shaking his head, Harry held up his hands. "I'm fine. Just fine."

And really, he was. Not a scratch on him in fact. Just this new, crazy realit- Wait… not a scratch. He blinked as he began to search himself thoroughly. And indeed, it was true. He could feel no residual pain or stiffness from wounds he was almost certain he could've died from. Deciding to latch onto that instead of focusing on Snape's comment, Harry leaned forward and gestured at the both of them.

"Um, S-Severus," he murmured tentatively, almost biting his tongue at the usage of the other man's first name. Snape's eyebrow raised in amusement, though he said nothing, merely inclining his head as a sign that he should continue. Which he did. "How come the both of us aren't bleeding to death on the plush carpet of this room?"

The older man actually deigned to smirk at his question, reclining in his chair. "Good question, Harry. Thankfully, you appear not to be as stupid as you look."

Harry's glare spoke volumes, eliciting a chuckle from him. "Alright, alright. I'll explain everything. But-"

Harry groaned and cut him off. "I hate buts." Snape silenced him with a glare, face once again in a very familiar glare. Harry took the hint and settled, frowning but quiet for the moment.

"But, you are going to have to explain to me fully just how you got yourself into such a dangerous position," he said softly, fingers tapping against the table rhythmically. "You were supposed to have been safe at home tonight, for your sixteenth, so that I could smuggle you away. How did you end up at Hogwarts?"

For a moment, neither of them spoke, Harry lost in thought, Snape waiting patiently for a response. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke, eyes hooded and darkened by the knowledge of the betrayal.

"I was gardening for Aunt Petunia, as per usual. I hadn't eaten yet, since Dudley had caused me to get in trouble with Uncle Vernon for breaking the flower pots arrangements outside with a football, even though it was obvious that it was him."

-x-x-x-

"Boy! Get in here!" Vernon boomed out into the yard, face a sickly puce color in his rage. Harry, meek in his hunger and fatigue wearily traipsed inside, preparing himself for whatever punishment he was in for next.

His uncle, nearly speechless in his anger, merely pointed at his previous bedroom under the stairs, hissing, "Explain. Now."

But he could not. The door was wobbling and shaking by itself, purple smoke and the scent of heady cedar wood permeating the air, causing a misty haze to settle around the first floor. Strange laughing noises echoed eerily about, and, as he stepped closer, Harry could feel a strong compulsion to open the door.

"I… I don't know what this is, Uncle Vernon," he whispered, cheeks pale as he fought against the urge to get closer. "Perhaps my potion ingredients reacted because they've been locked in their all summer."

Vernon responded by backhanding him across the face, splitting his bottom lip.

"Now look here boy, I will not have you blaming this paranormal activities on me doing the right thing by locking up your freakish, abnormal 'school' supplies," he growled, grabbing him by the hair. Harry screamed as he was slammed against the door, the urge becoming more than he could bear, and the wood of the door feeling like it was burning his skin.

He didn't even hear Vernon's yell of alarm as he opened his eyes, revealing them to have filled in their killing curse green completely, eradicating both the cornea and the pupil. He didn't even notice when his hair was released. All he could focus on was the door, and how much he wanted to open it.

Well, at least until he'd heard Dumbledore's voice and gotten hit with an Obliviate.

When he'd come to, he'd been in a strange cell, walls lined with a strange, sickly yellow glowing stone, body aching as if he'd just undergone the most rigorous training of his life. His head had felt stuffy and he had a headache the size of Mt. Everest.

Not really knowing what was going on, he'd been forced to wait until someone arrived, trying desperately to remember whether he was safe, or whether he'd been captured by Voldemort. To his surprise, when someone had shown up, it had been Professor Dumbledore, flanked by a serious looking McGonagall and another Greek looking man he'd never seen before in his life.

Dumbledore had smiled down at him good naturedly, eyes twinkling as merrily as ever.

"How are you feeling, my boy?"

Unsure of how to respond, Harry had merely shrugged, trying to figure out why his every sense was telling him to get as far away from the other man as possible. Unfortunately, nothing was immediately forthcoming.

Dumbledore moved and stood in front of the door to his cell, lightly leaning against the metallic bars.

"Tell me, Harry, what can you remember from earlier today?" he asked kindly, voice soothing, yet only managing to stir Harry's instincts into a further frenzy.

"To be honest, Professor, not much," he answered, running his hands haphazardly through his hair. He noted quietly how all three of the adults in the room seemed to shift and relax at that, and narrowed his eyes as McGonagall handed Dumbledore what was obviously the key to his cell, proving that, indeed, they were the ones who had locked him in there.

Suddenly, as Dumbledore moved to put the key into the lock, Harry felt himself start to get dizzy. The unsettled feelings continued to grow and grow, pulsing beneath his skin, prickling around his eyes, until, with a burst of agony so intense, he was sure he tore his throat screaming, all the memories from earlier that day burst free and flooded his mind.

Dimly, he could hear alarmed shouting and a spell. Legilimens. A foreign presence invaded his mind, trying to suppress the flood of his thoughts. But they were too strong, too agile, to fluid, and they slipped between the cracks of the shoddy, golden barrier, until finally, the pain was gone, and he was left staring up into cold, blue eyes.

Shackles cut into the skin around his neck, ankles, and wrists, pulling him taut against the wall, and Harry peered terrified up at the man whom he had sincerely looked up to, wincing at the sheer force of hatred and disgust he could see in those familiar eyes.

"Professor, why?" he croaked out, spitting out a blob of red tinged spit, confirming that he had indeed torn his throat. Dumbledore's eyes, if possible, got even colder.

"Because of what you are, Harry," he said coldly, narrowing his eyes. "I had hoped that the Potter gene had been overridden by the Evans gene in you, since she was muggleborn, but, once again, you've managed to defy my expectations."

Dumbledore stepped back from Harry, leaving the cell against. "I'm afraid it would have been better for you to have forgotten. But, like a true anomaly, this option has been proven impossible. So, I'll have to break you to my will."

For a moment, the man seemed to resemble his old mentor, before a steeled look crossed his features, and the first of five Sectumsempras hit. And he screamed, long, loud, and way past the point any human should scream, especially once his open wounds hit the strange rock, sizzling and proving itself acidic, making his bones flood an icy cold, heaving as lead and as painful as a thousand hot coals pressed to his bare skin.

After each, Dumbledore would wait about half an hour for him to writhe in agony before healing the wound crudely with an off-key melody, a parody of the true healing spell for his lashes. He would then get a temporary reprieve before the process started again, until he felt as if he was going mad.

He was grateful when Dumbledore hit him with a stunner, welcoming the darkness like a long lost friend.

The next time he'd awoken, it had been to Snape melting his bonds and freeing him, dragging him and cursing his sorry ass for the state he'd gotten himself in.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"And, of course, you know the rest from there," he concluded, resting his head on the back of the chair, looking up at the ceiling.

Snape nodded, eyes sympathetic, but unable to voice the emotion. Instead, he cleared his throat.

"I see. Do you have any idea why it happened?" he questioned, watching the messy haired boy. Harry tugged at a knot in his hair, shaking his head in frustration.

"No. But I bet you it has to do with the shaking cupboard door," he muttered, fixing Snape with a glare. "But, that's not even the point. The real point is this. Why did you help me? Aren't you supposed to be Dumbledore's right hand man?"

Snape shot him an unreadable look, which had him shifting in his chair uncomfortably. "I suppose I was… until I found out Albus' true intentions."

The statement was whispered so lowly, Harry almost thought he'd imagined it. But the sombre look on the older man's face was more than enough proof he hadn't.

"Once again, I was tricked into following a self-absorbed, power hungry madman. The only difference between Voldemort and Dumbledore is that Dumbledore is a lot stealthier than Voldemort. Who better to destroy the army of Light, than the army of Light themselves."

Snape snorted, face twisted up in disgust. "We all fell for it. Albus Dumbledore, leader to the Light, Chief Wizengamot, Order of Merlin First Class, Headmaster to Hogwarts, Grandfather to all things good; he was a dream come true."

Harry could feel the bitterness of the words and shifted uncomfortably, somehow knowing that the words being spoken were true. "But, it was just a farce. He has books, dark books, for rituals on how to contact the Dark Realm. He uses the students as sacrifices, practices true Black Magic."

The words sent a chill down his spine. Black Magic?

"Black magic, Prof--- Severus?" Harry questioned, almost biting his tongue. Snape nodded, onyx eyes appearing dazed and unfocused.

"Black magic. More deadly, dangerous, and evil than the Dark Arts," he murmured. "Black magic literally involves sacrifices and feeds off of evil energy. Whereas some Dark Arts can be used for Light magic purposes, Black magic cannot. One could even say that the magic itself is tainted, poisoned. It eats away at natural magic until the energy tunnels have eroded. Then it starts to feed on the life source and then, finally, the soul. At least, until you redirect it's attention." Harry's look of horror continued to grow.

"Which is why a sacrifice is always required. Once the magic sets, the negative effects can be transferred to the sacrifice, until they waste away and die."

Silence descended, thick and cloying. All Harry could do was shudder. Dumbledore was involved with something like that? Surely not! But after all that had happened to him, he could believe it.

"Al-alright. So, even if this were true, what does this have to do with me?" Harry bit out, curling his knees up to his chest and hugging them in place. Snape nodded, looking as if he'd consumed a very bitter piece of lime.

"Well, you see, Harry, you've come into an inheritance you weren't supposed to get before your sixteenth," he answered, watching Harry carefully. The boy in question scowled briefly, tilting his head.

"But I am sixteen," he replied.

Snape shook his head.

"You turned sixteen early this morning, but your powers manifested a day early. Or rather, the Second Realm could sense you before your birthday hit, which is very worrisome."

Harry shook his head, trying to understand.

"That still doesn't explain why," he sighed, mussing his hair even further.

With a sigh, Snape rubbed his eyes. "Dumbledore doesn't want your powers to manifest. You are now one of the biggest threats to him, even more so now that I've gotten you away. He's going to be trying everything to get you back, so you never gain your full capabilities, never learn of what you are."

There was an awkward pause. "Which is? Oh god, don't tell me I'm not even human anymore."

Surprisingly, this brought a laugh from Snape. "No, no. You are still human, at least… partly."

The constant beating around the bush was starting to piss him off.

"Partly? Spit it out, damn it!"

Snape sneered. "You, imbecilic nitwit, are a nephilim. Half angel, half human."

Harry stared at him as if he'd lost his damn mind. "You're shitting me…"

The older man chuckled. "No, no, Harry. I assure you, I would never joke about something like this."

He was quite alarmed when Harry didn't say anything, seemingly lost inside his thoughts. Before he could cast a stealthy legilimensy however , the boy seemed to come back to his senses.

"What were you saying about a name change, Severus," he asked weakly, still quite unable to wrap his mind about the strange new concept of not being fully human.

Snape nodded his approval at the way Harry was handling things. He'd half been expecting to be dodging things flying across the room. He wasn't clueless, he'd seen the books on the shelves rattling.

"What name would you like to be addressed by from now on," he replied smoothly, conjuring up a notepad and a strange looking golden quill wandlessly.

Harry started but then shook his head, and then looked down at the table, biting at his lower lip.

"Well, I've always admired the Greek goddess Demeter," he whispered softly and Snape tilted his head in question. "So, how about… Dmitri?"

"Sounds fine to me. But what about a last name?"

Harry thought long and hard, forcing himself to see the logical side to his actions, pushing away his feelings on everything he had learned that night, focusing, for once, on what needed to be done.

"Lily. Li. Dmitri Li," he answered finally, tapping his hands on the table.

Snape smiled and nodded. "I like it."

And that, as they say, was that.

Deca, 03/10/10

End Notes: Alright, so, I hope that answered some of your questions from the last chapter. The are a couple of answers I've still left in the dark that will be revealed as the story goes on, but I hope you guys keep reading. Tell me what you think. *smiles* This chapter is, as always, unbeta'd, but I hope you didn't mind any of my mistakes too much. I think I write pretty well for a non-native speaker. Again though, if you wouldn't mind beta-ing, I would not be apposed to the offer at all. That's about it, but for one thing. I will update every one to two weeks. Usually on a Sunday or Wednesday. Thank you in advance for your patience. Reviews are appreciated.