"You are doing well to not let the house affect you, Harry."

"That's a lie."

"Perhaps. But, you are not totally corrupted, not yet. Your time is almost up over there."

"Good, I dislike this place."

"Because of the murder you committed here, or the memories?"

Harry didn't answer.

Summer slipped into fall rather quickly. Inside Grimmauld, Harry watched as the London trees slowly turned from bright green to a pale red, with decaying yellow left overs littering the road. Harry thought it would have been quite pretty, if not for the constant shadow of dread hanging over his head.

Not just his head, Ron and Hermione's too.

Harry wasn't stupid. He could feel himself drifting away from the couple. Not because of anything they had been doing, but because of himself. He was a wreck without Neville there. He spent most of his days laying on the couch, reading whatever book Hermione sat in front of him and jotting down anything that seemed important.

Harry had coped many years without Neville by his side, why had it changed so much in so little time? Harry didn't understand it, but he didn't have the energy to work it out either. All Harry knew was that he wanted Neville back sooner rather than later.

It didn't matter what Time told him, until Harry could set his eyes on Neville, Neville was in danger. Sure, the teen was more than capable enough to take care of himself. Harry knew that. He probably still had his wand, or at least Harry hoped he did. Harry felt better (though not by much) when he thought that Neville had his wand.

"Harry?" A tentative voice asked. Hermione.

"Yeah?" he called back, sitting back on the couch properly. "What's up?"

"We found something if you're feeling up to it. It…could prove helpful."

"Sure! I mean, of course!" Harry stood up from the couch, shaking the numbness out of his leg before following Hermione up the first flight of stairs. "What is it?"

"A painting we think, but there's no one actively in the painting. We don't know how long the frame has just been sitting up there."

"Where was it?"

"Somewhere in the attic. Ron found it when he was digging around up here. The dust made him sneeze, which made him fall, which- Ron found it up here."

"Cool!" Harry said, and he meant it, even if his feelings were slightly hurt. They were digging around without him? Why? Harry knew he had been a little…off the past few weeks, but it made sense! Hary gulped. How much had they done without him?

"That RED hair! Those freckles! Are you a Weasley?!"

Hermione and Harry both sweatdropped, Hermione heading up the attic stairs.

"Er, yeah. I am. How'd you know that?"

"My, I worked with Matilda Weasley! My, she must be your-"

"My great-great-great-great aunt, Grandpa Gar talked about her sometimes."

"Don't interrupt, child, now, how have you found yourself in our ancestral home? I must know, of course, as a previous Black Lord. Did the Weasldey's finally see the error in their ways? I had hoped so, especially after that disaster exchange student, Huxton Longbottom, had trashed my school."

"Longbottom?" Hermione asked.

"Yes! The boy came as a fifth year- we thought he was a squib when his letter hadn't been sent at eleven, and then proceeded to ruin the entire thing! Goblins and magic everywhere! He threw around the killing curse like it was a Leviosa charm!"

Harry winced slightly. Knowing the knowledge Harry had about who was watching over Neville, the news fit quite well. Perhaps Harry's ancestor was a Death, or somehow knew Death? Or maybe the Huxton guy was just crazy. Could always be the latter of the two.

"Why don't we bring you down stairs?" Hermione offered, taking the thin portrait from Ron. "We should display you, at least for a moment."

"I'd like that very much, young lady! What family are you from?"

"Parkinson," Hermione lied with a smile. "Pansy Parkinson."

"Very good! Glad to see your family has bred out the…unfortunate likelihood to dogs. So! Who is that strapping young man over there?"

"Him? Oh, that's Harry."

"Harry?" Phinelas raised an eyebrow. "Would you happen to be from the 'Prince' family? My, you look just like one of my old students! Ewyn Prince!"

Prince? Wasn't that Severus' moms last name? Wait, that was his grandma! And Harry looked like them? A weird feeling of contentment settled in his chest. He looked like his family. Not just his mom or dad(s), but an actual ancestor,

"That's right, Harrison Prince is my name."

"Splendid! I believe the two of us will get along wonderfully!" The man said, cheerful. He seemed completely different to the dower man SIrius had once explained. Perhaps this was his younger self? Harry didn't know, but right now, he didn't really care.

"Why do you say that, sir?" Hermione asked, ever the respectful one.

"Why, you should know! Just look at him! I'm a painting and even I can tell he's a wicked little thing. Fitting of the Prince household. They may be poor, but they were phenomenal purebloods."

"Wicked?" Ron asked, sending Harry an odd look. It made Harry's heart pound in his chest. "He's just Harry."

"My, it makes sense, the Weasley family aren't really known for having the most…attuned magic." The man chortled in his portrait, looking happier by the moment. "The boy practically radiates dark magic!"

Radiates? No, that wasn't possible. Harry's hand shot up to his scar, rubbing at it. He wasn't- he hadn't even been, there was no way! Was it like Time said? Was it from just being in this house?

"Say, Harrison, do you happen to be an illusionist?"

"Y-yes sir," Harry stumbled over his words slightly. "How'd you know?" The man beamed.

"I knew it! Igavius, dear friend of mine, and Ewyn's father, was also an illusionist! It's all in the eyes, you see. My, he gave those prisoners nightmares that would even scare me! Dangerous man, but a great one."

Harry had never felt more conflicted in his life.

"You were one of the headmasters of Hogwarts, right?" Hermione asked, throwing a look at Harry as she tried to flip the conversation.

"Indeed! Say, why aren't you at Hogwarts?"

The group paused, staring at each other. Phineas' eyes narrowed. Harry gulped, thinking through a million different lies. He could say something fake, or the truth, or-

"Too many people there that oppose us," Ron said, jaw clenched. Poor Ron, Harry knew how much the redhead hated lying if it wasn't life or death. Well, perhaps this was life and death.

"You should see what's going on there! Revolts of students, no one listening to the professors, a cesspit honestly. I tell Headmaster Snape about what those Gryffindor children are doing, but he never seems to believe me."

"You've spoken to Se- Father?" Harry switched the words carefully. "Wonderful!"

"Your father?"

"Yes sir!"

"I thought you were a Prince?" Harry cursed mentally.

"Great-grandfather had no sons, so the line went through Grandmothers," Harry lied quickly, his breath coming out shallow. This was a horrible idea.

"Hm, makes sense. I did hear that Ewyn had only managed to have one heir."

"Yes, that's exactly it. You're very knowledgeable." Hermione flattered. "Would you be able to pass on a message to him for us?"

"Why, yes! Wonderful leaders you all seem to be, I'm sure you'll make all of your houses very proud." The portrait turned and walked off, heading away without another word. Ron thudded into the wall, sliding down it with a thump.

"We're fucked."

That pretty much summed it up.

"What did he mean by you being wicked, Harry?" Hermione asked as she moved to sit beside Ron, the teen unusually white.

"I think…I think it's because we're staying here." Harry said honestly, his voice barely there. "I mean, I should be rid of everything thanks to Severus, but…"

"Yeah…" Hermione finished lamely. "I'm sorry, Harry. Is it affecting you too much?"

Yes, it was. It tore at his skull, dark tendrils twisting themselves into his ears and eyes. Everything he looked at, heard, or even touched, was saturated in that delicious evil. Harry wanted to bathe in it. It felt so wrong, it made him feel so dirty, but part of him didn't care. Part of him would never care.

But Harry was a liar, so instead, he smiled and shook his head.

"Not as bad as I'd thought. It's more unnerving than anything, really."

An invisible knife twisted inside his heart when Hermione sighed in relief.

"Good, that makes me happy. I'm glad, Harry. If it acts up, you'll tell us, right?"

"Yeah, of course. I've just been really…screwed up without Neville."

"We'll find him, mate." Ron smiled softly, moving to stand back up. Harry wished a God would strike him down.

"I'm suddenly regretting the nightmare ward…" Ron muttered with a wince.

Someone, please, strike him down.

In Scotland, a certain father was thinking the same thing as his son.

"This is bullshit," Severus couldn't help the curse that left his lips. It truly was bullshit.

"What is?" The portrait of Albus asked. The man had been grating on his nerves like no other. He was even more senile when he was younger!

"The ring, Albus." Severus spoke through gritted teeth, barely avoiding throwing the ring at the portrait. When he died, he was not getting a damn portrait. He should have put that in his will.

"Severus Snape?" A voice spoke up. Said man looked around, eyeing the fancy looking portrait that spoke to him. Ah, Black. How nice.

"Headmaster Black, what is it."

"I'm delivering a message from one Pansy Parkinson," His slytherin? "Ron Weasley," A Weasley? "And Harrison Prince."

Severus gasped. His son.

"How did you come in contact with them?" He demanded.

"They're staying at my ancestral home! How nice. You know, Headmaster Snape, I almost thought you were turning against the right way. But seeing that son of yours…he practically dripped black magic!"

"Oh?" Severus ignored the quickening of his heart. That idiot child, after Severus had told him about the effects! Or, was he just staying there for his little friends? Severus didn't know, and he didn't care for the specifics right now.

"You've raised him well! He seems to be very powerful; an illusionist just like yourself!"

"Indeed," Snape said, returning to his work. "Is that all?"

"Not all! I had gone back to the house to confirm something, and I overheard them talking about horcruxes, and how to destroy them, and also, how to enhance them! I doubt they noticed me there, but-"

"To destroy and enhance, you say?"

"Yes, indeed. The Parkinson girl found it in one of my books. If I knew how that library worked, I'd offer to help out." He laughed maniacally. "Anything for the right cause!"

Severus felt slightly sick to his stomach, but before he could ask something else, Phineas Black was out of his portrait and to another one.

"Severus…?" Albus spoke up from his own picture.

"I'm going to burn that damn frame," Severus vowed, and without another word, took the portrait from the wall and set it aflame. It burned in the back of his mind. So Harrison was at grimmauld? While not preferable, it was good. Severus could reach him there.

Closing his eyes, Severus concentrated on his magic, feeling the familiar pull of it inside his body. Slowly, some of his magic moved beside him.

"Go, talk to my son." Severus spoke to the illusion clone of himself. The illusion nodded, turning to a wisp before floating out of the open window nearby. Severus hoped he still had the strength to do this.

He laid his head on his desk, closing his eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Just a quick push- Severus' shoulders slumped down, and he was out like a light.

The world floated by, blues and greys and greens mixing and blurring as he sped past them. His consciousness, barely transferred to his illusion, was already beginning to tire. He was nearby though, and long as he transferred back before his illusion faded, he'd be fine.

He really wasn't as young as he used to be.

The door wasn't locked when Severus arrived, much to his displeasure. If Harrison really was here, he'd need to have a conversation about that.

"Guys, someone just opened the door, but the spell didn't go off." A familiar voice whispered. Weasley.

"You should lock your door," Severus intoned, shutting the door behind him. He heard something crash, and suddenly his son was running into the entrance way, staring at him.

"Harry!"

"Prove you're actually him," Harry barked, holding his wand out.

"I'm not, I'm an illusion." Severus slipped his hand through his own arm. "I come bearing…news."

"Come in," Harry intoned, and Severus shook his head.

"I cannot. I am not as…young as I used to be. Holding this illusion is rather…tiring."

"Right," Harry nodded. He recalled how drained he felt after holding his own illusion at the Dursleys, and that one hadn't even moved or gone anywhere. Harry took a step closer. Severus watched as Hermione ushered a peaking Ron into the kitchen.

"Harrison," Severus said, voice much softer than it had been a few minutes ago.

"Why didn't you come in person?" Harrison asked quietly, hands clenching at his sides. He stood a few feet away from Severus, body unnaturally still.

"I would have, Harrison, but I couldn't. Those…people know my illusions far too well."

His son nodded terse, still staring at the ground. It hurt Severus, like a dagger to his heart. He was used to Harrison staring at the ground when they talked. Hell, he had even caused some of the reasons that Harrison did that in the first place! Right now though, it hurt him. It hurt him much more than he ever thought it would.

"Harrison?" He asked quietly.

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, son."

"I want this to be over already."

"I know, Harrison. I do too. And it will, soon. A certain painting told me you have found ways to destroy them?" Harry finally looked up.

"Yes! Hermione found it in a book. Basilisk venom, fiendfyre, and, apparently, the killing curse."

"Truly?"

"I don't know about the last one; it was only mentioned in one book, but the other three have been mentioned a few times over. Why do you ask?"

"The Dark Lord gave me a task. To find the ring Albus had before he died." When Harrsion didn't interrupt, he continued. "I found it, but I believe it may be a horcrux as well, with how badly the Dark Lord wants it back."

"So you're gonna destroy it?"

"Hopefully so." Severus looked down, his feet disappearing. The illusion was failing. "I must go, Harrison."

"I-"

"I believe in you, my son." Severus reached out, and Harry found himself practically falling forward. "You are doing well. You are not evil."

"I…how?" Harry said, a tear slowly sliding down his face.

"A father always knows." His hand slowly phased through Harry's cheek, the boy shivering at the feel of magic. "Be safe, my son."

The illusion of Severus Snape slowly faded away, leaving nothing but magic in its wake.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

"Isn't that what your wife said when she bumped into you?" The man paled as Neville pressed his wand closer to the man's neck. "Before you beat her to death?

Kill him, Neville.

"Avada Kedavra."

The man fell to the floor with a thud. He still hadn't gotten over the rush. His heart thudded against his chest, blood pumping in his ears as he fought off a manic smile. Death said it would get better with time, that he would come to find peace instead of the current euphoric happiness. Neville didn't particularly care. He just needed to get back to Harry.

That's all that mattered in the end, isn't it?

One more tonight, and I'll give you a hint back to your Harrison.

That's all that mattered.

"Stop! It hurts!" The child screamed. Amycus giggled. He loved this aspect of his job; the children screaming just made it even better. Unlike Alecto, Amycus preferred to hear the noises they made.

"It doesn't hurt, quit whining." Alecto snapped.

"Yes, it does hurt, scream more!"

"It doesn't!"

"It does!"

"Doesn't!"

"Does!"

"Ahem."

The twins turned around, seeing Severus Snape, their boss, at the door.

"Headmaster," they spoke at the same time, turning to glare at each other. For all the love they shared, they never got along.

"If you two are done wasting time, we have Gryffindors running amuck in the great hall again."

"Woah! We're heading that way!" Amycus grabbed his twin sister's hand, practically pulling her out of the door.

"See to it that it doesn't happen again." Severus' voice held a slight threat, not that any of the two noticed. Once Severus was sure the pair were long gone, he entered into the room, seeing the strung up Ravenclaw. The boy had round glasses, wavy black hair, and was far too skinny for his own good.

Severus saw this and thought of his son.

Moving quickly, Severus unlatched the locks, the small child falling to the ground.

"Headmaster…" The child intoned weakly.

"Save your strength. I cannot take you to Madam Pomfrey, you must make it there yourself child. Do you understand?"

The boy managed a nod.

"Yes…sir…."

"Be fast, and think quick." Severus practically hissed, turning and leaving the room in a wave of billowing robes. He had to figure out a way to lie to the Dark Lord once again.

"Thank you, sir…" he heard, the words barely registering in his mind. "Thank you…"

His heart dropped. Severus loathed this blasted war.

AN End Note: Yes, the character Phineas mentioned is the MC of Hogwarts Legacy. Why did I name him after Neville's family… No idea!