A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Only excuse is not a lot of time to write.

A Recap:

Harry's pretending to be Snape's son, Tristan (who doesn't actually exist), and the son of an old . . . dead . . . girlfriend of Snape's. He was deaged two years, so while Ron, Hermione, and Draco are in 7th year, Harry/Tristan is in 5th . . . and he's a Slytherin prefect this year. He's taken to the Dark Arts, believing it will be what will protect him from the Dark Lord (hiding this from Snape), while regular Defense magic is giving him problems with his new wand. He's gotten decent at Occlumency, but it doesn't stop the visions because it's a different sort of magic, magic that is preventing him from passing on; preventing him from dying, which he found out when Bellatrix accidentally cursed him and he did die for a few moments.

Voldemort's response to Tristan getting cursed caused the Malfoys – and Severus – to turn their back on the Dark Lord, which led to the Malfoys handing over Danielle, who they had been keeping alive in their dungeon on the Dark Lord's command, which eventually led to Severus and Danielle falling in love. Harry and Snape have a decent relationship right now; Harry is on the border of considering him 'dad' and thinking of him as 'Snape', and doesn't quite understand why he feels so attached to him, but he likes the idea of having a real family.

Severus kicked the Malfoys (Well, not Draco) out of Hogwarts in revenge for Lucius hurting Danielle (although Snape only knew what Bellatrix said and really has no idea what happened, because Danielle always avoided the question), which probably got him good and angry.

Harry/Danielle and baby were kidnapped, Danielle died in front of Severus and Severus killed Bellatrix. Harry's worse off for wear. Hogwarts is now separate from the Ministry (which is good, because the Ministry fell to Voldemort), and the Order has been sneaking in families who wished for protection and were keeping their kids in school.

There's really a lot more going on than that, but hopefully it serves as a reminder. This story will not be abandoned, but just slow up the updates for awhile. Thoughts and constructive criticism are welcome.

Chapter 36 – Friend of a Wand

The first thing that alerted Harry that something was wrong was that he could see.

The room wasn't brightly lit, but he could still see the details of the stone wall of the quiet room.

"My Lord?" someone to his left asked him, and he turned to look at the sickly man. He looked half starved, barely standing, but with a look in his eyes Harry wasn't sure he liked.

"Hogwartsss," he answered smoothly.

"My Lord?" the man asked again, this time, his voice cracking. "You wish us to attack?"

"I have no interessst in the ssschool at the moment," he hissed slowly. "The wand I am looking for isss in Albusss Dumbledore'sss tomb."

"It will t-take quite a bit of power to get though those wards. N-nothing s-short of an onslaught . . ." The man trailed off.

"We will get though without anyone noticing," he said, not leaving room for discussion. "Find wizardssss who can get usss though, or pay the consequencessss."

"Y-yes, my Lord," the man stuttered, and Harry felt the pleasure in tormenting the man for something he could surely do himself, given the time.

Time for this was not something he'd pass out freely today.

Harry woke with a start, his scar burning. He managed to muffle any noises, but from the stillness of the room, he didn't think Wyatt was back yet.

A few moments later, Harry started processing the vision. Voldemort was going to try to get into Hogwarts.

No. He said he didn't care about Hogwarts. He wanted into Dumbledore's tomb.

For Dumbledore's wand.

Harry's first instinct was to rush to Dumbledore's tomb and get the wand himself, but the slight issue with that being that Harry wasn't capable of doing any rushing anywhere. His next thought was Snape, but Harry didn't know where he was and wasn't exactly in a mood to go looking for him just to get yelled at.

Sirius wasn't around right now, and Remus would be just as hard to find as Snape, and he'd probably make him talk to Snape anyway, which brought him back to going to Dumbledore's tomb himself. He knew the way. He visited several times already, and it wasn't hard to get there; even with nearly no sight and trouble walking, Harry could probably make it there before he managed to find anyone.

A voice in the back of his head seemed to be trying to tell him the flaw in his logic, but he refused to listen. If Snape didn't have time to deal with him, he probably didn't have time to deal with anything else, and what could go wrong with him making it there and back before Voldemort could even find someone to break the wards?

If he even could break the wards.

But it was safer to get the wand, anyway, wasn't it? If Voldemort wanted it, there was no way Harry was going to let him have it.

Harry was on his feet before he realized he made his decision. A quick check of the time showed that everyone would still be in the middle of dinner, and Harry ignored that voice that told him to go to the Great Hall and find Snape.

Harry wanted to do this. He had to. He had to prove he wasn't just some pathetic freak who couldn't walk or see anymore. Even if no one knew, he was still Harry Potter. Where was the boy who killed a basilisk?

Voldemort was still after him, and he still wanted to stop Voldemort.

And he'd do it. Would Voldemort even be able to kill him, if he couldn't die? Or, maybe Voldemort was the only one who could kill him.

It didn't really matter, Harry decided. It was because of Voldemort that his stepmother was dead, and he'd find a way to stop him.

Anger building up inside of him, Harry made his way out of the dorm and through the common room with movements smoothed by a fierce determination set by revenge and injustice. He managed to make it out of the dungeons and through the Entrance Hall without running into anyone, and after what felt like an incredibly long trip, Harry found himself outside, glad that the garden lights were still lit, slightly grayer-than black view, a vague light in the distance.

It was about halfway there that he realized he didn't have his cloak, the cold starting to replace the fire he had been feeling earlier. Trying to shrug it off, Harry cast a warming charm and continued, no longer a hundred percent sure he was heading in the right direction anymore. He was going off of instinct earlier, but even he could tell it was getting darker, and he was sure the garden lights would be turned off, soon, to discourage nightly outing.

It was too late to change his mind, though, he decided, heading for what he was sure was the lights of the tribute to the last Headmaster. It was dim because of his vision, but it was the only guide he had.

The garden lights went out as he reached the tomb, casting him once again into complete darkness; he kicked at the ground, thinking he should be used to this by now and he refused to let himself start panicking.

"Lumos," he cast, trying to produce the most light he could. It helped. Actually, it helped more than his new glasses alone helped in a bright room. He had to extinguish his wand to open the tomb, which was actually easier than he thought it'd be – all his studying was practical, it seemed – and he lit his wand again as he entered.

Dumbledore's wand was in his hands, and Harry tried his best to not look at the dead Headmaster as he reached for the wand, half expecting the man to awaken and grab him. His first reach was a miss, having misjudged how close he was to it, but the second time, he grabbed a hold –

Harry started when his own wand, bright with lumos, send out colored sparks even he could see.

Started, Harry froze until he realized no one was going to attack him and he made for a slower grab for the wand, apologizing to the old man for taking it.

It was for the better. Voldemort couldn't take Dumbledore's wand.

Sparks flew from his own wand again when he touched Dumbledore's and as he pulled it from the man's loose grasp, he felt an odd warmth come over him.

Another warming spell and a lumos to help get me back to the castle, Harry thought to himself after a few minutes of staring at the two wands in his hands, deciding to think about what it meant later.

Forever later, Harry decided that he needed to spell his droid to be a seeing-eye droid; this side of Hogwarts seemed to be barely lit from the outside, and he had to keep his wand unlit to be able to make sure he was going in the right direction. Harry spent the rest of the time back to the castle thinking about how he would spell his droid and spell a magic cane in case he was ever without one in the future.

As frustrating and hard and horrible as everything seemed sometimes, he refused to let himself be unprotected again. Let himself be weak.

No matter what it took.

"I do believe it would add to the security of this place immensely, Headmaster," Lovegood said, and Severus did his best not to sigh in the man's face.

"Mr. Lovegood, there is no proof that genfloers exist; to attempt it would be a waste of valuable time that could be spent on adding to wards we know will add to the security."

"There's plenty of proof if you're willing to look," the man insisted.

"I don't have any people to spare to try . . . summoning these creatures, whether they exist or not," Severus said flatly.

"Well, then, perhaps I'll simply give it a go myself . . ." Lovegood trailed off, his eyes fixating on something on Severus' desk. Following his gaze, Severus grabbed the ring and threw it back in the box it belonged. "Where did you get that?"

"That would be none of your business," Severus snapped.

"You have one of the Hallows," he said in a far-off voice. "One of the Deathly Hallows. I had no idea you-"

"You are mistaken," Severus said. "It is simply a broken ring."

"No, no, you are mistaken . . . that stone . . . that must be the artifact, it must be. . ."

"Mr. Lovegood, I believe our time here is done. I will see you out, if I must."

"Headmaster, if I could see the stone-"

"No. You will leave," Severus enunciated slowly, holding back his temper.

"Have you been using it? The Resurrection Stone?"

"I have not . . ." The what, Severus wondered, "done anything to the ring but study it," he finished. "It's purpose-"

"Of course, of course. The war with you know who must be put above all other activities," Lovegood finished. "But . . . perhaps . . . later, I could take a look at it myself . . .?"

Severus paused. If he could get through this conversation without obliviating the man, perhaps it would be better.

"I will consider it, if you speak of the ring to no one," Severus said flatly.

"Of course, of course, my lips are sealed," he said, taking a bow as he stood. "I will be going now, then Headmaster. I will take up the task of calling on the genfloers myself. Never been the best with wards myself, and I would like to do all I could to help."

"Good night," Severus answered, his patience wearing thin.

"Yes, yes, good night," Lovegood said as he left the room, and Severus wondered what the Deathly Hallows were, and why Lovegood called the ring a . . .

Cautiously, Severus picked up the box and took out the ring. If he could . . .

Severus reluctantly threw the ring back into the box and locked the box back where it belonged; the days were past where he would play with magic he knew nothing about. He had a vague memory of a childhood story, but Severus had grown out of those childish games young; he had been far more interested in his mother's magic books . . . real magic . . . rather than games and stories.

A few minutes later, Severus realized he was too tired to function properly. Perhaps an early night . . .

Severus sighed, rubbing his face with both hands as he rested his elbows on the desk. He needed to collect the baby from Minerva, since he promised it wouldn't be for the night again, and he should probably pick up Tristan from the hospital wing.

He made his way to Minerva's rooms slowly, and by the time he got there, his tiredness had overwhelmed him to the point he wanted to ask her to watch the baby for the night . . . again. He thought he made up his mind by the time he knocked, and a frantic Minerva – or as frantic as she would let herself appear – answered the door.

"Good, you're here. I need to get to Gryffindor tower. And Severus . . . you really need to name the child. We can't keep calling him, 'the baby', forever."

With that, she dumped the half-asleep baby in his arms as she walked past him. To the hospital wing, then, Severus thought with a tired sigh.

Severus wasn't sure how, but he knew something was wrong he moment he walked through the hospital wing doors. Poppy, tending to a second year student who was probably messing with a spell he shouldn't, glanced over at him questioningly. The door to the room Tristan was supposed to be in was open, the lights out. He could be sleeping, Severus told himself as he picked up his pace to look inside the room.

He was sure his heart stopped when he saw Tristan was not in the room.

"Where is Tristan?" Severus asked forcefully, and Poppy glared at him.

"Severus, you picked him up earlier. Perhaps you should take some time to sleep, if you're-"

"I left him here!" he snapped.

"Well, I released him, so he probably went to the dorms, Headmaster," she answered flatly.

Severus realized he was holding the baby too tight when he started to cry. Switching the boy to a more comfortable position, Severus took a few breaths.

And a few more deeper ones.

He would check Tristan's dorm before he would get angry, Severus told himself. Or worried. How far could a mostly-blind boy actually go? he wondered.

By the time he entered the Slytherin common room, he couldn't see the line between worried and angry anymore. The boy was fifteen – seventeen, if you counted his previous age – and should know better than to wander off after being kidnapped and nearly killed.

"Where's Tristan?" Severus snapped at the closest student – a seventh year boy – and the boy shook his head. With a glare, he walked to the fifth year dorm to find Wyatt. "Where's Tristan?" he asked again, dark and low.

"N-not here, sir," the boy stammered out. "I thought he was still in the hospital wing . . ."

Without another word, Severus turned around, sending a patronus to Lupin and Minerva as soon as he was out in the corridor to inform them of Tristan's disappearance. He realized belatedly that the boy might have gone to his room in the tower – an even greater distance to travel from the hospital wing and unlikely given he had put a charm on the tower to alert him anytime it was entered – and decided to rush there in case Severus missed warding an entrance.

He was nearly to the Entrance Hall when the baby started crying and Severus tried to think of who might watch him while Severus looked for Tristan before sleeping for the rest of the night.

By the time Harry reached the Entrance Hall, he was exhausted. Closing the door, he decided he would just sit up against the wall and rest and before anyone could see, Harry slide Dumbledore's wand into a pocket inside his robes.

No one had to know he had it. He couldn't quite place a finger on why, but something about the wand made him think he couldn't tell anyone about it. It didn't hurt that his wand – his current wand – seemed to be happy at Harry being close to it.

Not that a wand could feel happy, Harry told himself, feeling ridiculous.

Harry heard the cries of a baby get closer at the same time hearing McGonagall's voice getting louder.

"It is unbelievable that they tried to keep open for as long as they did," he heard her say. "Focused on running a toy shop, in the middle of a war."

"I'll be glad to see Rick again," Lupin answered. "I haven't seen him since I was fifteen." He was so intent on listening to his professors talk, he had tuned out the baby crying and was startled when he was suddenly being dragged standing by his arm.

"Where have you been?" Snape hissed.

"I got lost!" Harry lied, feeling bad about it briefly, but told himself it was for the better. Something about that wand would keep him safe. "It's not like I can see."

"Then why did you leave the hospital wing?" Lupin interceded. "If you can't see, you can't protect yourself properly."

Harry didn't answer, but Snape released his arm to adjust the baby in his arms, and Harry took a step back, casting Snape into darkness.

"I'll take it from here," Snape said, the anger his his voice leaving a hollow sound behind. "Come along, Tristan," he continued, putting a hand on his shoulder and slowly guiding him. Despite his anger at Snape earlier, Harry felt relieved to have the man so close to guide him.

I should tell him, part of Harry urged.

All Harry could think about was the wand, though. If he told Snape, they'd wonder where the wand went.

Tell him.

The baby started crying again, and Harry realized he didn't notice he had stopped.

"What's his name?" Harry ask, finally finding his voice as they arrived at the gargoyle.

Snape didn't answer at first, just guided Harry to stand on the stairs that took them to the Headmaster's office, and then urged him into their sitting room and finally put pressure on his shoulder, causing him to sit on the sofa. After a small sound of protest, probably gone unheard over the baby crying, his father sat down next to him, cradling the baby close.

Leaning in, Harry looked at the baby; he saw a round face, scrunched up with his crying, but details were hard to notice. Sighing, Harry leaned back.

"Matthew," Snape said suddenly, and it took a moment for Harry to realize that Matthew was the baby's name. "Matthew Anthony?" he questioned.

"Matthew Anthony Snape," Harry repeated, but Snape shook his head.

"Matthew Alexander," he corrected, then repeated himself. After a few minutes, Snape seemed to have made up his mind with a nod.

"So his name is Matthew Alexander Snape?" Harry asked and Snape looked at him after nodding.

"What were you doing in the Entrance Hall, Tristan?" his father asked.

"I . . ." Harry started. What was he going to say? The truth: he stole Dumbledore's wand, originally to protect it from Voldemort, but now he wanted to keep it? Or, maybe a version of the truth.

"I had a vision," Harry continued slowly. "You-know-who was talking about breaking the wards quietly to get into Headmaster Dumbledore's tomb."

He wouldn't mention the wand. Harry had resealed the tomb; perhaps stronger than it was originally warded. They could, possibly, not even consider entering.

"And your reason for being in the Entrance Hall?"

Harry paused too long. He knew he did. A lie would be conveniently gift wrapped to Snape with how long it took him to answer.

"You're blind," Snape said flatly, apparently gathering the reason for his pause. "You are recovering from the latest bought of dark spells cast on you. In addition, the Dark Lord is most likely not near Hogwarts at the moment. What were you going to do?" All Harry could do was shrug. Snape might not have a lot of faith in Harry, but Harry did what he set out to do, didn't he? All by himself. Blind and recovering. If he hadn't been so tired, Harry would probably have been offended by the suggestion. As it was, Harry took off his glasses, the struggling to see giving him a headache, glad the baby had finally started to calm down.

"Tristan," Snape started, sounding especially exhausted, but the man didn't continue. Harry felt he was looking at him, though, probably an annoyed look on his face. "The Dark Lord will not have an easy time getting through our wards," he finally said. "Please, just stay out of trouble, at least . . ." His father paused again, and Harry wish he knew what the man wanted to say. "Go to bed. I will get you a new cane in the morning."

"Where does Matthew sleep?" Harry ventured to ask.

"He has a crib our . . . my room."

"Can I hold him?"

"Perhaps when we're both not so exhausted," was all Snape said, and Harry sighed. He wasn't so small he was going to drop the baby while sitting.

Tell him, the voice said again. Tell him about the wand.

But Snape didn't want him practicing Dark Arts, and Harry had a feeling that both those wands wanted him to do precisely that. Not that Harry was planning on hurting anyone, but there was no possible way Harry was going to protect himself . . . and his baby brother . . . with simple curses anyone could do.

Harry stumbled to bed, familiar enough with the path to not have to focus on where he was going; glad that his father and Danielle ensured the path was always clear. He couldn't help but think that just as he got his family, it was being ripped from him and he made another vow.

He wouldn't let anyone hurt his family again, especially Matthew. The Dark Lord had a bad habit of going after the wrong babies, Harry decided.

A/N: The Resurrection Stone's purpose in this story is not really what everyone is probably thinking right off the bat . . . It has a purpose for Harry (being one of the Deathly Hallows), but I need it to play with Severus a bit first. I think my interpretation for the Deathly Hallows is a bit darker than the book implies them to be, but it is what it is ;)