Harry woke up in the infirmary with Dumbledore looking over him, his eyes twinkling as he stared at Harry.
They had a long conversation, which finally rested on a question.
"Quirrell said Professor Snape hates me," Harry stated. "Because of my dad. Is that true?"
"Professor Snape does not hate you," Dumbledore reassured him. "Quite the opposite in fact, though in truth I don't think he realizes that yet."
Harry frowned. "What about my dad?"
"Your father and Professor Snape did not get along well in school. He owed your father his life and he only wishes to pay off the debt he owes him."
"He hates my father because my father saved him?"
"Well, yes."
Dumbledore smiled and Harry stared at him for a long moment before giving a short laugh.
"Okay, if you say so, Professor."
"How does that make you feel, Harry?" Dumbledore questioned suddenly. "Knowing your Head of House did not get along with your father?"
Harry shrugged.
"I'm sure they had their reasons."
This made Dumbledore smile and he agreed before he left.
He was visited by Hermione, who informed him Ravenclaw had won the final match with Slytherin and that Gryffindor had also won the House Cup. He tried to not let this bother him, but when he saw Draco glare at him from outside the infirmary, he knew most of Slytherin wasn't going to let it not bother him. Later, Hagrid visited him and gave him a photo album of his parents, much to Harry's enjoyment.
Then Snape arrived to reprimand him.
"You showed spectacular Gryffindor colors," Snape snarled. "Bravo!"
Harry furrowed his brows at the man. "But I thought acting like a Gryffindor was a bad thing, Professor."
"I should take points for your cheek," Snape hissed at him.
"Gryffindor has already won," Harry grumbled. "What will taking more points do exactly?"
"Potter," Snape growled in warning and Harry mumbled an apology.
The man glanced at the nightstand beside Harry and after a pause inquired as to what the album was.
"It's an album of my parents," Harry said as he offered the book out. "Hagrid gave it to me."
Snape took it and opened it, but his features remained inscrutable. After a long moment, he returned the album to Harry.
"I am sorely disappointed in your actions," Snape admonished. "If only because you deliberately disobeyed me."
"I know, sir, I'm sorry." Harry meant every word.
"Though I will state I'm impressed you passed the trials alone," Snape's eyes betrayed his curiosity. "Care to elaborate?"
Harry couldn't contain his excitement as he recounted how he'd made it down to the Stone. He'd had a flute from Hagrid to get past Fluffy and he'd only managed to remember how to handle the Devil's Snare because Snape had assigned a paper about it as a potion ingredient, though Snape pointed out Professor Sprout would have told him about it too. The keys were easy because Harry was good on a broom and the troll was already defeated by Quirrell.
"What about the chess board?" Snape inquired. "You skipped that one."
"I'm not really good at chess," Harry admitted. "That was all luck, I think."
"Sounds like most of it was."
Harry wrinkled up his nose before continuing with his tale. He'd struggled over the puzzle, which Snape seemed pleased about, but had succeeded with it anyways. Finally, he had met Quirrell who had "You-Know-Who" on the back of his head. Though he'd gotten the Stone from the Mirror of Erised, Harry had refused to give it over. Luckily, Quirrell was affected by Harry's touch due to his mother's love protecting him.
Snape was quiet after the story reached its end. He almost looked lost in thought, causing Harry to feel a little awkward when he finally interrupted the man.
"Sir, is it true?" Harry asked in trepidation. "Did you really hate my father?"
"Big-headed Potter?" Snape snorted, his eyes losing their forlorn look. "Yes."
"I see," Harry mumbled. "But he saved your life."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "I see Dumbledore has been talking."
"Did you hate my mother too?" Harry wasn't sure why he had asked the question, but now it was out and he waited almost impatiently for Snape to respond.
Snape, however, seemed stunned by the question and stared at Harry with a slightly wide expression his face.
"No," he eventually answered.
"I see."
Snape stood and straightened out his robes.
"You should get some rest, Potter," Snape instructed. "I will see you tomorrow at the end of term feast."
"Sir," Harry reached out to grab his Professor's sleeve before he could walk away.
Snape paused and eyed the hand, but did not move to brush it away.
"Do you hate me?"
The man didn't hesitate, "No, Mister Potter. I do not hate you exactly."
Harry grinned at the answer, figuring it was the sort of answer his Professor would have given in any situation.
Seeing the conversation had ended, Snape took his leave.
The feast turned out in Slytherin House's favor. Harry's heroics were admonished by Snape, but Dumbledore thought they were merit. In fact, he thought they were worth sixty points, which was just enough for Slytherin House to win the House Cup. The table was the only one in the Great Hall to cheer so loudly. All the other Houses seemed utterly astounded by the change in events. Harry didn't care. Draco was patting him on the back and Terence and Adrian lifted him up as the Slytherins crowded around him in excitement. It was the best evening of the entire school year.
Snape approached him the following morning before he could set off towards the Hogwart's Express to discourage Harry from the doing the same this coming year, but he did something else which was surprising as well. He gave the boy permission to send him letters over the summer, though he said to do so only if the boy felt he was in danger.
As Harry got on the Hogwart's Express and was immediately offered to share a cabin with Zabini and Nott, he felt as if things were finally looking up.
He could only hope the next year everything went well.