Disturbances
Chapter 4
Harry went immediately to bed after returning to the tower the previous night, promising Ron and Hermione a detailed account of his meeting with Snape the next morning. He had collapsed in bed, falling asleep instantly, yet woke the next morning feeling no more rested than before. Uncle Vernon had plagued his dreams yet again, and Voldemort had made an appearance at the end, taunting him for his weakness. Harry had leapt up from the dream, tangled in his sheets and collapsing on the floor. Dean was the only one awake and went to help Harry up, asking if everything was alright. Harry nodded, removing himself from the blanket and making his way to the bathroom to wash up. His heartbeat was finally slowing and he took a few deep breaths.
He knew it wasn't a vision, like the ones he had last year, but it made him nervous. Dumbledore assured him that Voldemort would not want to enter Harry's head again, after the events at the Ministry, but Harry didn't want to take that chance. He needed to learn Occlumency, even though the idea filled him with dread.
He brushed his teeth and changed into his school clothes, careful to avoid rubbing his back too much. He turned to look at it in the mirror before pulling his shirt down. Angry red slashes crossed each other and Harry cringed, looking away, the dream of his Uncle still too fresh in his mind. It made him feel weak, helpless. If he couldn't protect himself from his Uncle, a muggle, how could he possibly protect himself against Voldemort?
Harry finished getting ready and woke up Ron who was mumbling something about jumpers. He headed down to the Common Room, glad to see Hermione awake and reading by the fire.
"Morning." Harry walked up next to her, noticing a large stack of books by her side. "It looks like you already went to the library, but would you mind stopping by with me before breakfast?"
Hermione's face lit up with a huge grin and Harry felt a small bit of regret for asking. "Of course, Harry!" She gathered her things, shrinking the books and stuffing them in her bag. "What did you need to get?"
Harry opened the portrait hole, gesturing Hermione ahead. "I want to get a book on Occlumency," he whispered, glancing around. He didn't know if it mattered anymore, keeping it a secret, but he figured it wouldn't hurt.
Hermione stopped suddenly, looking at him in surprise. "I thought Dumbledore said you wouldn't need it now. Is that why Snape wanted to talk to you last night?"
Harry pushed her forward a bit to keep moving. "Dumbledore did say that, and no, that's not what Snape wanted. I just thought it would be a good idea anyway. You know, just in case."
Hermione nodded, approvingly. "That's true, Harry. It's a good defense in any case." They arrived at the library and turned in, lowering their voices further. "I'm sure we can find something to help you here, but you'll probably still need someone to teach you." She looked meaningfully at Harry.
He sighed. "I know. I thought about that."
"You could ask Dumbledore." Hermione turned down a row, scanning the book titles, before moving on to the next aisle.
"I thought about that too. But I think I'm going to ask Snape."
Hermione paused. "Really? But it was so awful for you last year."
"I know, but I didn't try very hard then. And I don't like that Snape thinks I'm an idiot." Harry mumbled the last part, avoiding Hermione's inquiring gaze. "I want to show him I can do it."
Hermione thought over his answer, then smiled. "It can't hurt to try, Harry. I'm sure Professor Snape will help, if you ask sincerely. And reading up on it beforehand might make the process a little easier."
Harry decided not to mention that it could very well hurt to try, as the pensieve incident came to mind. He was fairly certain Snape would turn him down for that purpose alone. But after last night, he wasn't so sure.
"Ah! Here's something." Hermione plucked a book off the shelf, handing it to Harry. He looked down at the tome, Mind Over Magic: The Art of Occlumency. He flipped through the musty pages, wondering if anyone had read it in the last century.
"This looks good, Hermione. Thanks." He closed the book with a snap and shoved it in his bag, hoping to quell any hopes Hermione might have about Harry visiting the library more often. Hermione rolled her eyes, and headed towards the front desk as Harry sighed in relief.
"You know, it wouldn't hurt for you to come here more. Ron too, obviously." Harry trailed behind her, giving a small hum of agreement, and handed the book to Madame Pince to be checked out.
"What did Snape want last night?" Hermione questioned as they made their way towards the Great Hall.
"It was about the letter. I guess he wanted to see if I was sincere or not."
"Well, what happened?"
Harry struggled to find an answer, not sure he knew himself. "He accepted the apology, so I think he believed me. I can never tell with him though. One minute he was angry with me, then suddenly he was acting almost nice. In a terrifying, mean sort of way of course."
"I know he has always been quite unfair with you Harry, but he has saved your life several times. He might not say the nicest things to you, but I think, in the end, he's someone you can trust." Hermione stopped outside the doors to the Great Hall, looking at Harry. "It can't be easy, what he does, for You-Know-Who," she whispered.
Harry nodded, hearing his own thoughts from the summer repeated back to him. "I think I trust him now. I just don't know if I'll ever like him."
Hermione turned, heading into the hall. "Yes, well, he doesn't make that an easy task."
Ron waved to them from the table, plate already full of food and eggs stuffed unceremoniously in his mouth. He tried several times to talk to them before Hermione stopped him with a, "For heaven's sake, Ron! Finish your food!" and he quickly swallowed what he hadn't already spit out on the table.
"Where were you two?"
Harry picked up some toast as Hermione told Ron about the library, though she mostly discussed all the ways in which Ron himself could benefit from visiting it on a daily basis. Ron cut her off after a few minutes and turned to Harry.
"So what's up with Snape? Did he find some excuse to give you detention on the first night? Scrub every cauldron in the castle? I have to say, I'm not surprised. I did notice the negative points this morning. Tough, mate."
Harry shrugged, searching for Snape at the Head Table, but seeing only Professor Thornback. The man caught his gaze and smiled warmly. Harry gave a small smile in return and turned back to Ron. He had hopes for Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, as pretty much anything would be better than Umbridge, but that didn't mean he trusted Thornback. He planned on staying as far away from the professor as possible when not in class. His track record of Defense teachers trying to kill him was too high for Harry to take any chances this year.
"Snape was weird, Ron," Harry answered, tapping a finger against his plate. "He asked me how my summer was and accepted my apology. Then apologized to me. I'm actually not sure if it even happened. Maybe I dreamed the whole thing."
Ron stared, wide-eyed at Harry, a biscuit halfway in his mouth. "He asked how your summer was?!" Ron turned abruptly to Hermione, waving the biscuit in her face. "'Mione, you read Hogwarts, A History once a week. When, in the entire history of this place, has Snape asked anyone how their summer went?"
Hermione pushed the biscuit out of her face, "Ron."
"Exactly! Never! Harry, are you sure it was Snape? Maybe it was someone under polyjuice or a glamour charm."
"It had to be him. He had my letter. And he wasn't exactly nice Ron, just less awful than normal. Plus he took negative points from Gryffindor and sounded very satisfied while doing it."
Ron nodded solemnly, "Yeah, mate. That's definitely him."
Harry looked up as a dark shape caught his vision. Snape arrived at the head table, taking a seat next to Dumbledore. Harry watched him perform his usual perusal of the room before the gaze landed on him, narrowing into a scowl. Harry broke away from the look, feeling the smallest bit of disappointment.
"Well, it looks like the greasy git is back today," noted Ron, observing the glare Harry had received. Their schedules dropped down in front of them with a small pop and Harry groaned staring at his classes for the day.
"Defense with the Slytherins, followed by Double Potions. With the Slytherins. Why do they think it's a good idea to put us together in the two most potentially dangerous classes?"
"I think they want us to learn to work together, for unity between the houses," Hermione pitched in as she stood, adjusting her bag. Harry stared at it.
"How many books do you have in there Hermione?"
She shrugged, blushing. "I used an expanding charm on the inside so it can hold five times as many as a normal bag."
Ron snorted as they made their way to the Defense classroom. "If it could hold 100 times as many books, you would still manage to fill it Hermione."
They entered the classroom, taking seats as far away from Malfoy and his goons as possible. Harry didn't want to deal with the distractions inevitable from them. He looked up at Professor Thornback who was observing them all with a grin. Harry glanced at Hermione who was returning the smile, then rolled his eyes at Ron.
"Welcome!" The class quieted as Thornback raised his hands. He lowered them behind his back and began to walk around the room. "I am Professor Thornback, as you all know. I have been informed by the Headmaster of the unfortunate delays in your education in the area of defense against the dark arts. I assure you that I have every intention of catching you up this year to the proper level of knowledge and experience you will require, not only for N.E.W.T.s, but for the world as well."
Harry felt some of his fears alleviate at the words. Maybe he'd actually learn something practical this year.
Thornback spent the rest of the class outlining the syllabus and briefly reviewing shield charms to ensure they were all casting them correctly. He assigned several chapters of reading, and the trio left feeling hopeful at the prospect of a decent professor.
They were approaching the dungeons for Double Potions, excitedly discussing variations Thornback had mentioned on shield charms, when Harry was bumped violently from behind, sending his bag and books flying.
"Careful there, Potty," Draco quipped, swiftly passing him with a group of sniggering Slytherins.
Harry groaned, gathering up his scattered papers. "I am not looking forward to dealing with Malfoy during potions," he grumbled. Ron and Hermione grabbed the rest of his things and they hurried to the classroom.
"We'll have to watch him Harry," Hermione looked worried, "I don't trust him not to sabotage us."
Thankfully they made it to class on time, but unfortunately the only table left was next to Malfoy and Zabini. Hermione waved Ron off to work with Dean, placing herself between Harry and Malfoy. Harry frowned at her position.
"Harry, you need to focus on brewing. I can watch Malfoy and work at the same time. It's better this way."
Harry reluctantly agreed, knowing Hermione could probably brew a perfect potion in her sleep.
Snape burst through the doors with his usual finesse and began listing off ingredients. Harry scrambled to copy them down. He wanted to do better this year. He had a brief fantasy at breakfast of succeeding in every potions class this year and giving Snape a heart attack from the shock.
Snape hit his wand against the board, causing Harry to jump.
"I will not tolerate any foolishness in this class. We will be dealing with highly volatile ingredients. You are to be focused at all times unless you want to end up in the hospital wing for the rest of the year. I expect maturity and discipline from all of you. If you do not perform to these standards, you will no longer be allowed in this class."
Snape glared at them for several moments, then waved his wand, directions appearing on the board. "Begin."
The rest of the class was spent in intense concentration, the only talking was murmurs between partners about brewing instructions. Harry was already overwhelmed at the difficulty of the potion, though he thought his and Hermione's looked close to correct so far and there were only a few more steps left.
Snape had been making rounds of the room, speaking only tersely to those about to make a grave mistake. He had paused once at Harry's cauldron, only to move on without a word. Harry allowed himself a small smile of victory, then went back to carefully slicing a mandrake root. He made sure to follow the instructions exactly, making the thinnest slices possible. As he brought the knife down, a pain he hadn't felt since the summer flared to life in his bones, burning with a vengeance. Harry gasped, his hand shaking as it jerked the knife, slicing part of his thumb. He barely felt it. His whole body was on fire.
"Harry!" Hermione grabbed his arm. He spared a thought to be thankful she managed to keep her voice low. He did not want the entire class watching as he had some kind of meltdown. He hunched over the table, gripping the edges hard, trying to stay upright. It'll pass, he thought, then he could finish the potion and Snape would be proud. Er, well, not proud probably. Annoyed more like it. Or disappointed. Harry grit his teeth, taking deep breaths through his nose. Hermione continued to look at him in concern, then she did the one thing Harry hoped she wouldn't, she raised her hand.
Snape saw Granger's hand raise from the corner of his eye. The girl was extremely intelligent, but she asked too many questions for Snape's liking. He made his way towards her, noticing Potter with his head bowed next to her. Something wasn't right. The boy was sweating and obviously in pain. He quickly went through all the possible combinations of ingredients they were using that could cause the reaction, but came up with nothing.
"What happened, Granger?" Snape kept his voice low, hoping to avoid Malfoy's awareness of the situation. Thankfully all the students were so focused on their cauldrons, they had yet to notice anything off.
"I don't know, professor. He was fine until a moment ago."
Snape observed the boy, then noted the blood coming from his thumb. It was hardly the reaction one should have for a cut. He knew Potter and been through much worse. It had to be something more.
He glanced at the time. Five minutes left, good enough.
"Class dismissed. Place a stasis charm on your potion if you have not finished. Otherwise, bottle it and leave it on my desk."
The students jumped into action, thrilled to be leaving early, no matter if it was only minutes. Snape turned to Malfoy who looked as though he might start speaking to Granger. Luckily Harry was hidden from view as she stood over him.
"Mr. Malfoy, I believe you have an arithmancy class to attend. I would not want Slytherin to lose points this early in the year. I believe Gryffindor should maintain that honor."
Malfoy smirked, picking up his things with a "Yes, sir." Then headed out of the classroom.
Snape turned to Hermione. "If I am correct, you have that class as well Ms. Granger." She nodded, but hesitated, looking worriedly at Harry.
"You have no need to worry about Mr. Potter. I will escort him to the hospital wing and inform the headmaster."
Hermione looked at him with some uncertainty, before squeezing Harry's arm, and leaving with one more backward glance at the door.
Snape pointed his wand at the cut on Potter's hand, healing it with a quick charm. The boy didn't react at all, seemingly focused entirely on breathing.
"Mr. Potter, I hardly think the sight of blood would send you into a state of shock."
Harry didn't reply and Snape sighed, making a decision. He warded the door to the classroom and knelt down on one knee next to the boy. He wavered briefly, then put his hand on the boy's arm.
"Potter. I need you to tell me what is wrong." The contact and surprising softness of Snape's voice seemed to startle Harry out of his trance. Green eyes turned to Snape. He noted they were watering slightly.
"I don't know. Everything hurts." The voice came out in a rasp and Snape frowned.
"If you are able to walk, we can floo to the hospital wing from my office."
Harry felt panic rising in his chest. If he went to the hospital wing, they'd find the bruises, not to mention his back, and then of course they'd want to know how it happened. Harry loosened his grip on the table. It hurt so much though, and what if something was really wrong with him? And he really didn't want to return to the Dursleys ever again. Harry doubted Vernon would stop, knowing he could get away with it. But the thought of Dumbledore knowing. And even Madame Pomfrey. The looks of pity he knew would cross their faces and the shame he felt just imagining it.
Harry looked at Snape, surprisingly patient at his side. Snape already thought very little of him, and he must have some idea of what happened at his relatives in the past, after all those disastrous Occlumency lessons. Snape wouldn't give him any pity.
"I can walk." Snape rose, holding Harry's elbow as they made their way haltingly through the back door to his office. Snape grabbed the floo powder from the mantle, calling out the hospital wing as he threw it into the flames.
Harry tumbled out of the fireplace, almost falling until Snape's hands caught him by the arms, steadying him. Harry nodded his thanks, feeling slightly embarrassed, yet relieved that Snape attributed the stumble to Harry's condition instead of the fact that Harry ended up on the ground every time he used the floo.
Snape guided him to a bed and went to fetch Madame Pomfrey. Harry realized the ache had dissipated slightly, though remained quite uncomfortable. The mediwitch bustled over with Snape in tow.
"Mr. Potter, I can't say I'm surprised to see you here this early in the year. Professor Snape has informed me what happened. I'm going to run a few diagnostic charms, so you just sit back against the pillow there."
Harry adjusted, leaning back, then felt a spike of fear as he saw Snape turning to leave.
"Wait!" He sat up abruptly, wincing. Snape raised an eyebrow. "Could you, er, stay Professor? Please?" The look of surprise on Snape's face lasted only a moment and was quickly covered by a mask of indifference.
"I need to inform the Headmaster of the situation, Potter. Surely you would like him to be here?"
Harry shifted awkwardly, heat rising to his cheeks. "I'd rather wait, until Madame Pomfrey knows anything. I don't want to bother him if it's nothing."
Snape studied him for a moment, then returned to stand by the bed. "I hardly think it is nothing, Potter, but I will wait."
Harry relaxed slightly, leaning back again. As long as Snape was there, as awkward as it was with the man watching, he somehow felt better. If anything came up about Harry removing his clothing, he'd refuse and ask to speak to Snape alone. It wasn't the best plan, but it was the only one that made him somewhat comfortable.
Pomfrey continued to wave her wand over him, frowning. "There appears to be something affecting your physical attributes, Mr. Potter. I will need to take a sample of your blood. If I am correct, it might be a potion."
Harry frowned. His physical attributes? What did that mean?
Snape spoke before Harry had a chance. "Have you ingested anything that tasted strangely in the past week, Potter?"
Harry shook his head, turning back to Pomfrey who was now taking a small sample of his blood from his finger. "What do you mean, my physical attributes? Are my arms going to fall off or something?"
"No, dear, it seems to be affecting your appearance."
Harry stared at her in confusion. "My appearance? Like Polyjuice? But I don't look any different than usual." As soon as he said it he thought back to the conversation on the train about his hair. Then he realized why the pain was familiar. He felt similarly after taking the Polyjuice Potion in second year.
"That's what it feels like," he murmured, suddenly feeling cold with dread.
"What does it feel like, Potter?" Snape pressed, examining him intently.
Harry swallowed down the anxiety threatening to overtake him. "It feels like Polyjuice wearing off. But, well, more so." He turned to Madame Pomfrey, only to realize she was gone.
Snape noticed him looking around, confused. "She has gone to test your blood sample for spells and potions that take affect through the bloodstream."
Harry nodded, dazed. He briefly noted that the pain settled to a dull ache in his bones.
"Mr. Potter, as thrilled as I am that you requested my company, I must ask why you felt the need for me to stay. Surely you would prefer your head of house or the Headmaster? He would not find this a waste of time." Snape emphasized the last part, hinting to Harry his exact thoughts on his own time spent standing in the infirmary.
Harry instantly regretted his decision. Of course Snape would see this as a waste of time. But he didn't want to reveal his true intentions to Snape, unless he had no other choice. He figured he would go with his second best option, though it didn't seem much better.
"I wanted to ask for your help." Harry cleared his throat as Snape stood silently, no reaction showing on his face. "I want to take Remedial Potions again. With you."
Snape snorted, apparently amused by Harry's request. "Are you completely daft? Don't be ridiculous, Potter. I will not spend my free evenings enduring the torture of trying to teach your dimwitted mind something it so obviously cannot handle. And as the Headmaster said, there is no longer a need for you to learn the skill."
"Yes, but that seems like a dangerous assumption to make, don't you think?" Harry pleaded, hoping the strange niceness Snape had been showing lately would make an appearance.
Snape flicked his wand, casting a silencing spell around them. "Dangerous? Mr. Potter, you gave very little thought to the danger you put everyone else in last year by refusing to clear your mind," Snape snarled, anger filling his features. "Did you not consider just how dangerous it is for me, teaching you night after night, waiting for the moment the Dark Lord broke into your mind and saw me there? Discovered my secrets? Tortured me to death at the next summons?"
Snape had drawn closer to Harry's bed, and Harry wished he hadn't brought the topic up. Why didn't he ever consider Snape's position last year? What he was sacrificing for him? Harry had acted like a selfish brat. Maybe Snape had been right about him after all.
Harry looked into Snape's challenging gaze, feeling contrite. "You're right, sir. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore is right as well."
Snape's anger faded minutely and he studied Harry. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the arrival of Madame Pomfrey at the bedside followed by none other than Albus Dumbledore.
"Headmaster," Snape nodded to the man. Dumbledore acknowledged him, then turned to Harry.
"Mr. Potter, are you feeling any better?"
Harry nodded, wary of the odd expression on Dumbledore's face.
"Wonderful, my boy. Poppy informs me that you should continue to rest, however, she has agreed that a meeting in my office would do you no harm, as long as you stay seated. Are you feeling well enough to accompany me there?"
Harry nodded again, "Yes, sir." His anxiety grew as he saw Pomfrey's equally odd expression.
Dumbledore smiled warmly at him. "Excellent." He turned to Snape, "Severus, if you could join us as well." He stepped forward, helping Harry off the bed, and guiding him towards the floo. Harry managed to walk on his own, feeling a bit stiff, but immensely better than earlier. Dumbledore waved Snape ahead of them and he disappeared into the flames. Harry stepped in after, Dumbledore by his side, feeling the dizzying rush of the floo before he tumbled out of the hearth, into the waiting arms of Snape. Harry blushed and mumbled an apology.
"You are making this a habit, Potter," Snape drawled. Harry couldn't tell if he was angry or not, and apologized again.
Dumbledore gestured them both to the chairs, settling in his own. "Lemon drop?" He held the bowl out towards them. Equally annoyed voices said no simultaneously, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with a smile. He set the bowl down, expression becoming more grave.
"Harry, if you are too tired to continue, or feel any pain, do not hesitate to interrupt this conversation."
Harry agreed, feeling his nerves increase. Was he dying? Did he have some weird disease that had to do with the Polyjuice he'd taken four years ago? That seemed like an awful long time for side effects to appear.
Dumbledore examined them both before speaking. "Madame Pomfrey tested your blood sample for effects of magic Harry, as I'm sure you know. I, myself, performed the same tests with the same result. It seems you have indeed both a potion and a charm influencing your appearance."
Harry shook his head, coming up with one question that was causing the most confusion. "For how long?"
"Sixteen years." Dumbledore's expressed gently.
Harry stared at him in shock. Snape's head jerked slightly at Dumbledore's response, surprise showing on his face.
"My whole life? But, why? What does that mean?"
"The magical signature was your mother's, Harry."
"Lily?" Snape muttered next to him. Harry didn't realize he could feel more shocked in that moment, but Snape proved him wrong.
"Yes, Severus. She used the Apparentia Secundus potion combined with a very powerful glamour charm."
"The what?" Harry questioned.
Snape answered, sounding aggravated, "The Apparentia Secundus potion, Potter, is similar to the Polyjuice in that it changes the appearance of a person by using the hair of another the brewer wishes the potion to mimic. In combination with a glamour charm, the effects would become more long lasting, as well as more pliable, enabling the caster to make small changes."
Harry couldn't seem to focus on anything. His mother had changed his appearance, but for what purpose? Why would she do that?
Dumbledore interrupted his musings. "You are experiencing pain because the potion is wearing off. If I am correct, I believe it has worn off almost fully. However, the glamour continues to maintain most of your usual characteristics."
"But why?" Harry burst out, "Why would it need to be there in the first place? I don't understand."
"I admit, I do not know for certain, my boy," Dumbledore replied gently, "But I have a few thoughts. I actually asked Professor Snape to accompany us here for help in this matter." He turned to address Snape, "Severus, would you brew a paternity potion for me?"
Harry's heart stopped. The thought hadn't even occurred to him. Was Dumbledore suggesting Harry's parents weren't really his parents?
Snape seemed just as shocked, but nodded, rising from his seat. "It will be ready by this evening." Then he headed out the door without a word.
Harry turned back to Dumbledore. "Are you saying I might have different parents, sir?"
Dumbledore looked weary. "No, Harry, not parents, just father." Harry didn't feel any better about that. "I am certain you are your mother's child. I saw her many times while she was carrying you."
Harry noticed a familiar look in Dumbledore's expression. He'd seen it too many times in the past few years to miss it. The Headmaster knew something he was not telling him.
"Please, Professor, tell me what you know." Harry pleaded, frustration edging into his voice. He was so tired of important information about him being kept from him.
"I will tell you what I suspect Harry, but only after we see the results of the potion. For now I would like you to return to the infirmary and try to rest until this evening. Your dinner will be delivered to you there."
Harry knew he wouldn't get anymore information out of the Headmaster, so he stood as Dumbledore directed him towards the fireplace.
"I am truly sorry, Harry. I know this must be difficult. You always show such amazing resilience in the face of adversity, but know you are not alone in anything you must face."
Harry met the sincere gaze, "Thank you, sir." Then stepped into the floo.
Snape arrived in the Headmaster's office that evening, feeling particularly edgy. He could always tell when something awful was about to happen. He had spent the rest of the day brewing after teaching a rather uneventful third year class. But now, without any distractions, his mind was free to ponder the situation. Why would Lily have used that potion? And why did Albus think it possible Potter might have different parentage?
"Severus. Come in." Dumbledore was placing his pensieve back in a side cabinet. The sight of it made Snape wary. "The events of the past day have brought back some old memories, and I felt the need to review a few." He looked up at Snape briefly, then moved to sit at the desk.
"Shouldn't Potter be summoned?" Snape didn't like the look in the man's eyes.
"He will be here soon. But first I'd like to discuss something with you."
Snape sat down stiffly in the chair. "Albus, if you have something important to discuss, please do not draw it out. And do not offer me a lemon drop!"
Dumbledore dropped his hand from where it was reaching for the bowl of sweets. Snape suspected they were laced with a calming draught.
"I want to prepare you in the event that Harry's parentage is not what we previously thought."
"Shouldn't you be preparing the boy instead? What does this have to do with me?"
"Severus, do not make this difficult. I know you loved Lily."
Snape gripped the arms of the chair, trying to maintain his temper. "Get on with it, Albus," he ground out.
Dumbledore sighed. "You know what I am hinting at, Severus. You will not convince me that you haven't thought of it as well."
"I never slept with Lily, Headmaster, if that is what you are implying," Snape seethed.
"I am aware of that, however, I would like to discuss one of your memories."
"Which memory are you referring to, Albus? I have many."
Dumbledore ignored his tone, leaning forward, "Many years ago, before coming to me for help, you made a choice I believe you still regret today. When Tom gave you a gift for your loyalty to him."
Snape blanched. He felt his anger rising, dangerously close to the surface. "What purpose does this serve, Albus? To remind me of my horrible crimes?"
Dumbledore's voice softened, "Of course not, my boy. I am truly sorry for bringing it up, but I must ask you if you remember when that event took place?"
Snape's anger immediately vanished, replaced by cold fear. He thought back to the time. It had been just after Halloween, he knew because the Dark Lord used many of his potions to torture quite a number of wizards that night, the act that earned his prize for loyalty.
"November 1979, I believe," Snape murmured, finally seeing what Dumbledore was looking for. "Albus, that couldn't have been..."
"Lily came to me later that year. She asked that I try to help you, bring you back to our side. I found it strange she bring up the matter then, and never before, so I asked her why. She mentioned she had seen you recently. Under a glamour."
Snape couldn't move. It had to be coincidence. If that had been Lily...
"I bring this up now Severus, because I want you to be aware of what this potion may very well tell us. Harry could be your son."
Snape blinked, taking a deep breath.
"And if he is not, I still hope that you will help him through this."
Snape's head snapped up at that, staring at Dumbledore in confusion. "That's preposterous, Albus. Even if I wanted to help the brat, do you actually believe he would want that?"
"You underestimate Harry's ability to forgive, Severus. I think you should get to know the boy better, no matter his parentage. I believe you both would benefit from it greatly."
Snape stared at the man, wondering yet again if Dumbledore was a bit barmy.
The fireplace flared to life and Harry stumbled out, landing in a heap. Snape raised an eyebrow. Apparently the boy always had trouble with the floo.
Harry rose, brushing himself off sheepishly and taking a seat in the empty chair next to Snape.
"Good evening, Harry. It looks as though you're feeling better."
Snape watched Harry nod, noting the anxiety on the boy's face. Now that he looked more closely, Potter's features were quite a bit different. Not enough to raise awareness, but enough for Snape to recognize some of his own traits. He stopped his thoughts abruptly, shaking off the idea. Albus was wrong. They'd test the potion, everything would be normal, and then he'd return to his rooms to finish up the bottle of scotch he'd been saving for an occasion such as this.
"Severus, the potion if you will." Dumbledore reached out, taking the vial from Snape's hand. "Now Harry, when we place a drop of your blood in this vial, it will tell us the identity of your parents."
Harry offered his hand, trying not to think of the last time his blood was used in a potion. He wondered what Dumbledore meant by the potion identifying his parents, but he didn't feel like asking. He'd find out soon enough anyway.
Dumbledore made a small cut on Harry's palm with his wand and held it over the vial. A drop fell in and Dumbledore healed Harry's hand with a quick flick of his wand.
The potion, initially clear, swirled from red to silver as a fine vapor rose out the top and separated into two columns. Slowly the mist formed into words and Harry recognized his mother's name on the left. He looked to the right, heart dropping. That couldn't be right. This had to be some sort of joke. Harry felt his breaths shortening into small gasps, knowing he was having some sort of panic attack, but not caring.
Next to him, Snape rose from his chair and strode across the room to the door. He left without a word.
Harry continued to stare at the name.
'Severus Tobias Snape'
Then he looked at Dumbledore, sitting across from him with a worried look on his face.
"I think I'll have that lemon drop now."