A/N: A product of my time in the gym. It started with an idea and grew to be a monster. XD It's TMR/HP in the end (it's like in the second arc ^^;).

His Last Horcrux

"You're sure, Severus?"

Voldemort stood, staring out of the window of the small dark room. He had just had Snape tell him of the prophecy he had overheard and knew that now the time had finally come to act (not that he wasn't doing stuff already). Snape had mentioned that he had only heard the first part of the prophecy and this troubled the Dark Lord somewhat. How much more had been foretold? Would it be wise to act on that first part?

"I am as sure as I can be," Severus told him.

Voldemort turned to look at the young man. There was no trace of a lie in his eyes. "You may leave."

He waited until the door closed before sitting down, his head resting on one hand and a quill in the other as he thought.

He must have sat there for an hour, maybe slightly more, before he got up. A plan had been formed but the parchment in front of him remained blank. He swept down the stairs and into the large dining room of the Riddle house.

"Bella, your arm," Voldemort said as he entered the room. She was always in the dining room, waiting for a time like now when she could be of use to her master. She held out her left arm with the sleeve rolled up and felt the tip of a wand upon it.

Within minutes Death Eaters had begun to arrive and during that time Voldemort had lit the candles and conjured up a few more chairs.

"My friends, I require some assistance with my next plan," Voldemort announced. "I must find every magical child that was born at the end of July this year."

"Would you like them brought here, my Lord?" Rudolphous asked.

"No, just find them. I want to know their names, parents and where they are residing currently."

"Is that all?" Amycus asked.

Voldemort paused before answering. "Yes, that is all. Those who provide good information will be rewarded."

A year passed during which Voldemort continued with his plans take over the ministry, kill Mudbloods and Muggles and purify the wizarding world. Unfortunately the Order of the Phoenix was putting up a good fight on that front. As for his other plan, he had established that only two children had been born at the end of July that fitted the criteria of having parents that had escaped him three times. Now he had to choose one, to mark one as his equal. Neville Longbottom, a pure blood…or Harry Potter, a half-blood? Deep down he knew which he would choose. Of course he would choose the half-blood, that was just the way he did things. There was just the small matter of finding the child now. It seemed that Dumbledore, ever the saint, had put both boys into hiding.

Another meeting was called; he put the Death Eaters to the task of finding out where the Potters lived.

"I want them found by any means necessary, but do not let them know that you have found them."

Later that night he found himself in the small dark room once again with Severus. It was unusual for people to disturb him after he had dismissed them and curiosity combined with a slight fondness led to Voldemort inviting the young man in.

"My Lord, I beg you, please do not kill Potter!" Severus was on the floor at Voldemort's feet. He could see Snape's eyes shimmering, threatening to spill over at any moment.

"My, what has gotten into you, Severus?" Voldemort was rather bemused.

Severus took a moment to compose himself. "Harry is…he's my son."

Voldemort blinked. He wanted to laugh. What was this? A joke? Instead he said, "Explain."

"I have always loved Lily Evans," Snape began. "And I've always hated James Potter."

Voldemort took a seat and listened to the rest of the tale which almost seemed like a dream Snape had imagined for himself. Unfortunately Voldemort knew only too well how likely it was that every word was true.

Snape had visited Lily when James had gone on holiday with his friends just before his wedding. During those two weeks he had slipped Lily a love potion which had the desired effect and Severus was the happiest he had ever been and ever would be. Later in life he would say that his greatest desire was to see Lily happy, but during this period with Lily loving him like she loved James, he didn't care that he was deluding them both. All he had wanted from the potion was a kiss from the only love of his life, but it had been stronger than he had thought and things went further.

"She thought, and still thinks, that Harry is James'."

"Are you sure he isn't?" Voldemort asked.

Snape nodded. "The potion is always right."

Voldemort inclined his head. He remembered the paternity potion. Like the Polyjuice potion it required something like a hair from the child. Once added the father would drink the potion, if it tasted nice then the child was yours. If the child wasn't then you would probably end up spitting the potion out due to the horrible taste. He himself had given the potion to his own father before killing him. At such a young age he had been willing to believe that there was the slightest chance that Tom Riddle Senior was not his father and that everyone had got it wrong. Yet when he saw the muggle drown the glass without a wince he knew that he had been foolish to let himself fantasize about such an absurd idea.

"Tell me; was Lily definitely under the effects of the potion at the time?"

"Of course. Had she not been she would have…Well, she was the one who led me on," Snape confessed. "The Lily I know never would have knowingly been unfaithful to James."

"Give me a few minutes to think," Voldemort said.

Snape left the room and stood outside leaning against the wall. He had never told anyone this and he never intended to. Naturally he wanted to imagine that one day Harry would grow up and then he could be told the truth. But Snape couldn't face the idea that on that day Lily would find out what he had done to her. She had trusted him and then he had betrayed her.

Voldemort opened the door and gleaming red eyes met scared black ones. "I have decided on the course of action, Severus. I wouldn't look so worried."

Halloween arrived. The time had come for the plan to be carried out. The Longbottom's had been located a lot more easily than the Potters – did Dumbledore know what Voldemort had been originally planning? Peter Pettigrew had been persuaded, or rather forced, to hand over the information that was required. But he had been difficult to find, being the rat he was.

The Dark Lord sat with a small group of his most loyal Death Eaters.

"Tonight I will go and kill the boy Neville Longbottom," Voldemort announced. "Bella, if I spare his parents you may have them to play with." Bellatrix giggled. "I will also pay the Potters a visit before that as I have business with their child too."

"My Lord, do you require back up?" Bellatrix asked.

"That will not be necessary. I am more than capable of killing an infant and visiting another." Voldemort got up and Severus did simultaneously. "Is there a problem, Severus?"

"What will you do with him, my Lord?"

Voldemort chuckled. "I told you not to worry. He will be alive by the end of it."

"The end of what?"

"That is for me to know and for you to maybe find out in the future. Maybe."

"Please, spare Lily," Severus pleaded one last time. "Do what you will with James."

Voldemort smiled. "I'm glad I have your approval." Then he left.

The other Death Eaters looked at Snape, intrigued by the conversation they had just heard and slightly surprised that Snape still stood unharmed. None of them had ever dared ask as much as Severus had, let alone ask him to spare someone. Snape noticed them all staring at him and then practically ran from the room.

Voldemort was already inside the house when Snape arrived at Godric's Hollow. He saw a flash of green through the living room window; James was dead. Snape felt nothing at the thought of James' death. After all the years they had spent together at school, he was happy at the idea of never seeing him again.

Now he only had to wait a few minutes, surely the Dark Lord would be finished with the child quickly. From where he stood he could see shadows moving in the upstairs bedroom. What was the Dark Lord going to do? He said Harry would live, but that didn't mean that he would be unharmed…

A second flash of green.

Severus moved instantly, running across the street and straight through the front door. He stepped over James' body and continued up the stairs. It took all of his strength to push open the door at the end of the hall. The scene was a mixture of relief and pain. The first thing he heard was the sound of a baby crying; Harry was safe. Then his eyes swept the floor. Not one, but two bodies. Red hair…

"Lily!"

Snape dropped to the floor and lifted her lifeless form into his arms. He whispered her name over and over, but he knew that she would never wake.

Through watery eyes he could see the other body clothed in black – Voldemort was dead?

He had no time to check anything; he could hear someone moving downstairs. He gently laid Lily down and took one last look at his son who he now realised bore a lightening bolt scar on his forehead. He jumped out of the window, using magic to break his fall before disapparating outside the bounds of the fidelius charm.

Harry had been sent to live with his aunt and uncle that night. Severus didn't have the courage to speak up and take the child himself. Apart from that he was in no fit state to take on a child; he had no job, his master was gone and he didn't know how to care for a child properly.

The following week a funeral was held for the Potters. People from all over came to pay their respects to those that they now considered heroes of the wizarding world. Snape attended to say his final goodbye to the one he loved so dearly.

"Severus, why do you hide?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape had come looking like an older man using polyjuice potion. "You know far more than people give you credit for," Severus noted.

They talked for a long while, until after the effects of the potion had worn off. Snape confided in Dumbledore and Dumbledore offered Snape a position at Hogwarts. All seemed to be well. However, as much as they trusted each other, Snape couldn't bring himself to ever tell Dumbledore the truth. He had told him about how much he had loved Lily, but never the truth about Harry. They both wondered about Harry though. About the prophecy and whether Harry was the one it now referred to. Voldemort's intention was to make it about Neville, but he had never visited the Longbottom's that night.

From a young age Harry knew that he wasn't what his aunt and uncle would class as 'normal.' Dudley, being the bigger and more spoilt of the two had always been a bit of a bully. That was until they were 6. They had been playing in the living room – Dudley with his large remote controlled cars and Harry with his small wooden trains. At one point Dudley decided that he would much rather play with trains than cars, so he took the trains from Harry easily.

"Fine, but I want the cars," Harry said.

Dudley laughed. "No, they're mine."

"But those are my trains."

"They used to be mine before I got bored of them."

Harry was getting annoyed now. Why was his cousin always so difficult?

"Is there anything I can play with?" Harry asked.

Dudley paused for a moment. "NO!" He laughed loudly as he drove the train along the coffee table.

Harry was staring intently at the little red train. Then it stopped. He could see Dudley desperately trying to move it, but it seemed to have suddenly stuck to the table with superglue.

"What are you doing?" Dudley shouted when he noticed Harry's intense stare.

"Huh?" Harry looked up and the train moved once more.

Of course, that incident was a minor one, the first time Harry had noticed his own powers. Things were going to get worse, for Dudley at least. Harry had gone back to his cupboard under the stairs that night and tried to do things to his toy soldiers but to no avail. There were only a few times over the next few years where he successfully did these magical acts. When Dudley got a box of magic tricks for his 9th birthday Harry desperately wanted to try it out, even going as far as going upstairs and knocking on Dudley's bedroom door. Naturally Dudley said no and didn't even open the door. Harry had noticed that there was a book included in the set, which is what Harry wished to get his hands on the most. It would have been easy to steal it from Dudley when he was asleep, but Dudley had had a lock installed many years ago to protect all of his toys from Harry. Instead, Harry went to the library. He found a small selection of books related to 'magic,' but none of them described things close to what he had managed; those things were only found in fictional books.

School had been neither easy nor fun for Harry. Some days he was actually happy to return home to number 4 Privet Drive, at least there he didn't have children making fun of him all the time.

"Why don't you get some clothes of your own, Potter?" Dudley had made sure that they all knew that Harry's clothes were hand me downs. They were especially bad when something new came into fashion and Harry was the only one that didn't have whatever it was. It was times like this that he wished he'd been sent to a school where they had uniform. At least there they would all dress the same.

It was an unusually warm March afternoon in the playground. Harry sat on a bench alone, as usual reading a book. Then someone sat down beside him. Dudley. He looked up to see Dudley's tall friends around him blocking out the sun. Dudley pulled Harry up by the neck of his large shirt and marched him over to the sheds where they were out of view from teachers.

"What were you reading?" Dudley demanded as he shoved Harry against the shed.

"Nothing," Harry said.

"Didn't look like that."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It was a book about magic." A fictional one.

Dudley let go of Harry like he was something dirty. He had become very wary of Harry when he mentioned things like that; he had usually been present when Harry had managed to pull off once of his amazing feats. "I'm telling mum and dad when I get home."

Harry smirked. "Go ahead."

Dudley growled. He hated it when Harry cast aside his threats. Recently Harry had been hard to bully because he didn't seem to care anymore.

"Grab him," Dudley told his friends. They went to take Harry's skinny arms and raise them, but they couldn't.

"He's got strong, Dud," one said.

"He ain't got any muscles though," the other remarked.

Dudley surged forward and tried to lift Harry's arms himself. They seemed to be made of steel and wouldn't budge from his sides.

"How are you doing that, you scrawny git?" Dudley said, frustrated.

Harry said nothing and stood there looking straight ahead.

"I'm talking to you!" Dudley brought up a fist intended for Harry's stomach. The fist never got there though. Harry had reacted quickly and grabbed Dudley's forearm, stopping him. "Let go of me!" Dudley yelled. Harry did nothing. "You're hurting me!" Dudley began to scream. "Let go! Let go! You'll break my arm!"

Dudley's 'friends' watched Dudley crumble under Harry's grip and moved away, running.

"Please! Harry, please!"

Harry let go, he had enjoyed being the one in power, but Dudley's begging reminded him of where he was and what would happen to him if Dudley went home with a broken arm. Dudley was on the floor, clutching his arm which was very red.

"If I were you I wouldn't tell anyone about this," Harry said monotonously. "You never know, I might break your arm next time."

Dudley was scared of Harry from that day on - which was all good in Harry's eyes. He enjoyed the rest of school in a care free way, without fear of an attack from his cousin. At home he also felt the benefits with Dudley being more likely to give Harry a bit of his cake when his parents weren't looking.

The summer whizzed by; Harry had been unsuccessful in securing one of the many letters addressed to him, Hagrid had rescued him (Snape still, after 10 years, he not been honest with Dumbledore) and Harry spent the rest of his time at the Dursley's finally knowing that he wasn't going to spend the next 7 years under their roof. He was overjoyed and couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts.

Harry spent the train ride with Ron Weasley, eating more sweets than he ever had in his life. He listened to tales of famous witches and wizards that Ron had heard from his mother. Of course, Ron was more interested in Harry; he was famous in the wizarding world. Hagrid had finally told him the truth about his parents and Harry knew that whoever this Voldemort was, he wanted him dead. He had stolen a much better childhood from Harry, something that he could never get back. But of course, it had been Harry that had led to Voldemort's death. So really, he had had his revenge. Maybe it was because he had been an infant when it happened, but Harry felt that justice had not been done. During the ride across the black lake he decided that he would not dwell on the past and would make the most of his magical education which looked promising as he gazed at the castle.

As they stood waiting for the sorting ceremony to start, a boy stepped towards Harry. He was blond with cold grey eyes. Like a lot of other he had met, he knew who Harry was on sight (Harry was beginning to think this was a little unfair), but he also recognised Ron.

"You'll come to learn that some wizarding families are better than others. I can help you there." The boy who had introduced himself as Draco Malfoy held out his hand.

Harry did not like the way that this boy had just spoken to Ron, but he wanted so desperately to be accepted here and gain friends that he took the hand and shook it briefly before Professor McGonagall returned to lead them into the Great Hall. It was amazing. The most amazing thing Harry had ever seen. This was the sort of room that he would expect to see in a church or palace, not a school.

Snape watched as the first years walked up the centre aisle. It had been 10 years since he had last seen Harry. In that time he had only heard rumours about how the boy had turned out. As they crowded before the stool and staff table, Snape was finally able to pick Harry out from the crowd. There was the lightening scar that he had seen all those years ago. Glasses now framed the green eyes of his mother. Messy black hair everyone said he'd inherited from James, but it was his, Severus's hair. James' hair was never that dark. Now he looked at Harry's face.

"He's the spitting image of James," they had all said.

Snape disagreed. They all said that because that's what you do with kids, you decide which parent they inherited such and such from. Snape thought that Harry looked more like a male version of Lily, but he was small and thin, like he had been when he was younger.

"Potter, Harry," McGonagall called.

The sound of the name and the whispers brought Snape back to the present and he watched as his son took a seat and had the Sorting hat placed on his head.

Harry could hear the Sorting hat's thoughts. But where would he most like to be? He only really knew anything about Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry waited patiently. He didn't know enough to try and sway the Hat's decision.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Harry walked over to the table where people sat with robes lined with green and sat down next to Malfoy who smiled at him. When dinner commenced he had to listen to Malfoy tell him everything he knew about Hogwarts and the teachers at the high table.

"He's been staring at me a lot," Harry said when Draco had said a little about how Snape was friends with his father. Then again, Draco's father seemed to be acquainted with many people.

Snape was still having a proud father moment. Not many people got to see their children sorted and for Harry to be in his own house made him more happy than he had been in a long time. It showed just what kind of person Harry had become and at least that was not a Hufflepuff.

Harry did not have potions until Friday and as the first week was always busy, it would be the first chance that Snape would get to talk to him and hear his voice. For the first time since taking the post, Snape wished that Heads of House left less to the prefects and did more themselves.

When Friday morning finally rolled around, Snape was very glad that he had perfected the art of concealing emotions, because when Harry walked in dressed in his Slytherin uniform Snape really just wanted to hug him. He proceeded with the lesson as he normally would, setting them a simple potion to try. Whilst they were brewing he hovered around, looking out for the bright sparks and getting to know the new recruits in his house. As much as he wanted to question Harry, he found that he spent more time talking to the other Slytherins. Admittedly he was slightly nervous and didn't want to seem like he had favourites already.

At the end of the lesson he looked over the potions and was pleased to see that Harry's was slightly better than the average first year potion he'd expect. Hermione Granger's potion was the best which he guessed he had to be happy with.

"Goodbye, Professor," Harry and Draco chimed as they left the classroom.

He wanted so much to tell Harry to call him 'dad' or something. But he couldn't do that. He had to remain ignorant, remain Harry Potter. Not Harry Snape (or even Harry Evans). He let out a sigh; at least Harry had found a friend.

Draco and Harry became known troublemakers and some said that one day they would over take Fred and George Weasley. Just like the Weasleys they were good at slipping out of the hands of teachers and Filch, escaping the consequences of their actions. When Christmas came it was taken to a new level because Harry received an invisibility cloak which only helped them to cause havoc. Under it they took a trip to the off limits third floor corridor, where they were surprised to find a three headed dog. They decided they wouldn't be going there again any time soon.

Their favourite thing to do was set traps which usually had unsuspecting Hufflepuffs as their victims. Unfortunately one time Professor Flitwick had walked past and ended up hanging from the ceiling momentarily and the pair was caught by the charms teacher. They served their first detention with Filch who had them cleaning things in the trophy room, which Harry thought looked clean enough before they started. Draco made their time a little more interesting by telling Harry anything he could about the people who had won the awards.

"James Potter, Gryffindor seeker," Harry read from a gold shield. "My dad…"

"A Gryffindor?" Draco echoed.

"Yeah…I wonder if my mum was a Slytherin."

"Probably," Draco said. "Don't know much about your dad though…sorry, Harry."

Harry smiled at the shield and put extra effort into making it shine.

Harry and Draco did not put all their time into practical jokes and annoying the rest of the school. Draco had taught Harry how to play Quidditch and they often snuck onto the pitch to play one on one. Some of the students had begun to notice and so their games grew until they had enough players to have a full on Slytherin vs Ravenclaw match. To make sure they weren't spotted they set up some goal hoops that were lower so that the stands shielded them from view. The match lasted 15 minutes before the teachers found out. No one could control the golden snitch and Harry and the Ravenclaw seeker went chasing it, in plain view of those in the grounds. At first it was just a few students in the grounds coming to watch, but the teachers noticed them all flogging to the pitch and swiftly followed. The match was stopped immediately by Professor McGonagall and the players were sent to their heads of house.

"Please, Professor, it was just a bit of fun," one Ravenclaw said.

"Off to Professor Flitwick now!" McGonagall insisted.

Harry and the rest of the Slytherin team slumped down to the dungeons. Harry had never been to Snape's office before and was surprised to find it quite small, but just big enough to accommodate the 7 players.

Snape looked at the Slytherins before him, first years, second years and a third year. He guessed that he couldn't let this go, they were young, most of them were only playing because they hadn't made the official team and thus they could have been injured. He was surprised to find that the match had lasted so long without a single injury. Snape looked at Harry. He wasn't surprised to see him there after the reputation Harry had built since arriving at Hogwarts, he was just glad to see him here in one piece.

"You will all receive detention," Snape said. "Tomorrow evening in the potions classroom for one hour."

Most sighed in relief, an hour detention was short in comparison to most others.

Ron and Harry had not spoken much since the train journey. Perhaps because they were put in rival houses, or maybe it was because Draco seemed to severely dislike anyone with the surname Weasley. It pleased Harry to see that Ron had made friends with Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. Harry and Hermione had unspoken rivalry in certain subjects, like potions, where they both strived to be better than other. Neville on the other hand…well, it made Harry wonder how he had become friends with the other two.

It was late April when Harry and Ron finally met alone and spoke. Well, they didn't exactly meet, they both received detention from Professor Quirrell for not completing their homework. Quirrell left them in the classroom while he went into his office and Ron took his chance.

"Hey, Harry?" he whispered.

"Yeah?" Harry said.

"You alright?" Ron asked.

"Yeah." Harry found it a slightly weird question.

"I mean, is the wizarding world and Hogwarts all you wanted it to be?"

"Oh." Harry had almost forgotten about the Muggle world. "All I wanted and more."

Ron smiled. "Slytherin's not a bad place then?"

"Nah, it's quite good. How's Gryffindor?"

"It's great. Although my brothers lied about some things."

Harry laughed. It seemed like the kind of thing Fred and George would do.

"I thought…" Ron paused. "Nevermind."

"You thought what?" Harry asked, intrigued.

Ron turned a red colour. "I thought that you were going to tell me to get stuffed like most of the other Slytherins. But I guess you aren't all bad."

"I know we haven't spoken, but you were good company on the train. I'm not going to suddenly hate you because Malfoy does."

"Look, Harry, I've got another tale for you," Ron said. "How much do you know about Snape?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Not much I guess apart from what everyone knows. I don't see him much apart from in potions."

"Well…" Ron recounted what he, Hermione and Neville had found out about the Philosopher's Stone and how they suspected Snape in the matter.

Harry was enthralled by the tale. It was definitely something you'd find in a fairytale – a stone that not only made you immortal, but could turn any metal to gold. He wanted it.

"So, do you think Snape might be trying to steal it?" Ron asked, snapping Harry out of his day dream.

"Well, I would want it and I don't see why Snape wouldn't too."

This seemed to be what Ron wanted to hear.

Quirrell walked back out of his office and looked surprised to see the boys sitting there.

"Ah, well, o-off you go boys," he said.

Harry and Ron picked up their things and walked out into the corridor.

"Ron, do you know where the stone is?" Harry asked.

"We think it's on down the forbidden corridor on the third floor."

"The one with the dog?"

Ron nodded. There was a short silence before Ron asked, "Have you ever seen a dragon?"

"No."

"Well, do you want to?" Ron asked.

"Why not," Harry said. "Where is it?"

"Hagrid's got one."

Harry hadn't been to see Hagrid since the first week of term and when Harry walked through the door he received a bone crushing hug from the half-giant.

"Oh, 'Arry, you've come jus' in time to see 'im hatch." Hagrid walked over to the fireplace and produced an egg from the cauldron there.

"Are you going to keep him here?" Hermione asked. Harry hadn't noticed she was there; he had been too busy staring at the dragon's egg which bore an intricate pattern on the shell.

"Of course I am," Hagrid said. "Can' let 'im go out on 'is own – he'd die."

The egg hatched a few minutes later and a small pale green dragon was revealed. Harry, Ron and Hermione did not stay long after the dragon hatched; it was dark and first years should have been in bed half and hour ago.

The three of them walked up to the castle to find Draco and McGonagall waiting for them.

"Excellent, Potter, you've brought them back," Draco said.

Harry was confused. Brought them back? What did that mean?

McGonagall took them to her office where she told them they would be receiving detention.

"All four of you."

Malfoy said that he hadn't done anything wrong and that Harry had just been escorting the Gryffindors. Professor McGonagall was not convinced.

Ironically they had detention with Hagrid. For the first time Harry was going into the Forbidden Forest. Harry wondered why he and Draco had never ventured in there before…maybe because there wasn't anything in there of interest, or perhaps they didn't know enough magic to defend themselves if they found something like a werewolf. They split up, Harry and Draco went off together, Draco clutching onto the lamp that Hagrid had given them and sticking by Fang.

"What was that?" Draco asked.

"What was what?" Harry asked.

"That noise – didn't you hear it?"

Harry shrugged. "You must be imagining things." He hadn't seen this side of Draco before. The blond boy was a being a bit of a wimp, but he had always put on a front that he hadn't been scared of anything. Maybe it was the tall trees or the darkness. Personally, Harry loved it. There was so much to explore here and lots of places to hide.

They turned at the next tree and Draco made a noise at a pitch higher than Harry thought possible. He saw Draco's pale hand pointing ahead of him and Harry looked to see a brilliant white unicorn on the ground. He took a step closer and then noticed the hooded figure that was drinking from the unicorn. Without thinking Harry moved closer again.

"Harry!" Draco hissed.

The figure raised it head, but the hood covered it completely. At that moment Harry felt a searing pain in his head, his scar was burning. He fell to the floor as the figure approached. The sound of a lamp smashing – Draco must have run for it. Then there was the sound of hooves. Harry looked up to see a centaur in place of the figure. The centaur helped him to his feet and they had a short conversation before Hagrid arrived.

"Harry, are you okay?" Draco asked in the common room that night. Everyone else had gone to bed and they were alone now.

"Sure." It was a lie. Harry was not really alright. He thought that on the day he had arrived here he had buried the past, but now those feelings of revenge returned. The centaur had told him that the figure was Voldemort and that he intended to steal the Philosopher's Stone. Harry knew what to do. What he wanted to do. He wanted to steal the stone before Voldemort. Stop him achieving happiness, kill him once more.

Harry looked at Draco who had run and left him in the forest. He could have died at the hands of Voldemort right there. Harry had considered telling Draco about the stone, but now he was glad he hadn't and he wasn't going to. This was something he had to do alone, anyway.

"I'm going to bed," Harry said as he got up.

He didn't really want to go to bed, but he was exhausted. What he wanted was to put on his invisibility cloak and go down to the third floor corridor. The only flaw in his plan was that he had no idea how to get past the three headed dog…

The next day seemed to drag on. Harry went through the day staring out the window, imagining how the night would play out. After a boring day of Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic and Charms he went to dinner with Malfoy trailing after him.

"Harry, what's wrong with you?" Draco asked.

"Hmm? Nothing," Harry said.

Draco eyed him suspiciously. "Harry, you're a bad liar."

Harry shrugged. "Give it a rest, Draco."

The blond boy seemed put out. "What did that centaur say to you last night?"

"Nothing," Harry said too quickly. He picked up a few items of food and left the hall. He went straight to the common room and ate there where he had time and space to think to himself. He didn't know why he was suddenly so on edge. Maybe it was the idea that tonight he was going to get his revenge, or perhaps he'd realised that Draco just wasn't the friend he thought he was. Would he have been better off in Gryffindor with Ron?

No. This was where he was destined to be. He was a Slytherin and proud of it.

All too soon, people were pouring into the common room, back from dinner. Harry played a few games of wizard chess with a fifth year before going up to bed. But of course, he wasn't going to sleep. He lay there, staring at the green and silver bed curtains and feigned sleep when he heard someone coming up the stairs to the dormitory.

Down in the dungeons it was difficult to tell when night had fallen because the black lake blocked out most of the sunlight even on a sunny day. Harry looked at his watch and saw it was approaching midnight. Now was a better time than ever he decided and snuck out of bed, throwing the invisibility cloak over himself. He strolled up to the third floor corridor with no problems, Peeves wasn't about and neither was Filch or Mrs. Norris. To be honest, he hadn't figured out what he was going to do when he opened the door and saw the three headed dog. He figured he'd try a charm…of some description. Luckily he found a harp playing when he arrived and the trapdoor already open. It was almost as if he had taken some Felix Felicis.

"Lumos maxima," he whispered and pointed his wand through the trap door. There was something green. Carefully he dropped down and landed softly on the green thing which turned out to be a plant. He felt it begin to wrap around his ankles and immediately struggled to get to the door. The plant let up easier than he'd expected, but he guessed that someone had already been here by the tendrils that were snapped and cut from the body of the plant.

The next room full of flying keys was a simple task due to all the illegal games he and Draco had played over the year. When he reached the room housing a giant chessboard he found Hermione cradling Ron in her arms.

"Harry!" Hermione called.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, looking at the broken chess pieces.

Hermione was not aware that Ron had told Harry about the stone and was reluctant to say anything about it. "We played a chess game and Ron got hurt. Neville's gone on."

Harry couldn't see how it was logical to send Neville on instead of Hermione going herself, but now was not the time to question that.

"Has anyone got the stone yet?"

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it, then spoke. "No, but someone definitely got here before us."

Harry nodded and continued to the door on the other side of the room.

"Harry, be careful," Hermione called after him.

Nice of her, Harry thought. But now was not the time to decide who was nice and who wasn't.

Through the next door he found Neville lying on the floor out cold. Reading the riddle Harry wondered how Neville could have got it wrong and figured that Neville should, according to the riddle, be dead. The teachers must not want to kill people, Harry thought. Although this was Snape's test… Harry picked up the correct potion and drunk it before walking through the flames where he found the final room and someone he didn't expect to see.

Professor Quirrell stood looking into a mirror.

"Professor?" Harry said to get his attention.

Quirrell turned and had a great look of surprise on his face. "Potter?"

There was a moment of silence where they both stared at each other. Clearly this was an unexpected turn of events for both parties.

Quirrell spoke first, his usual stutter disappearing. "Where's Longbottom?"

"Out cold in the previous room," Harry said. "What do you want with him?"

Quirrell shook his head. "He never had any common sense, that boy. But never mind, I'm sure you will be fine all the same."

Harry was confused. What could Neville be useful for? Quirrell motioned to Harry to step forward and stand beside him.

"Look in the mirror and tell me what you see," Quirrell said.

In the mirror Harry saw himself take a blood red stone from his pocket. He didn't need to be told that it was the Philosopher's stone. Then a weight in his pocket…did this mirror do what he wanted it to do?

"Professor, what does this mirror do?" Harry asked.

"It shows us what we most desire. Tell me, what is it you most desire, Potter? What do you see?"

Suddenly Harry knew what he must do. "I see my parents." If Quirrell had any heart he would believe Harry's lie, because Harry was sure that that was what he would see if he had not known about the stone.

"You're lying," Quirrell said.

Harry was astonished. How could Quirrell tell? The one teacher that seemed to have no idea about anything was able to tell that he was lying… Quirrell was mumbling to himself and then he was unravelling the turban on his head. Harry, along with the rest of Hogwarts, had wondered all year about what was under Quirrell's turban. Now that Harry was about to find out, he suddenly didn't want to know. Harry backed away from Quirrell and the mirror and watched as the turban was completely removed, revealing the back of Quirrell's head which was actually another face.

Harry stared into red eyes and knew that this was Voldemort.

Voldemort's face smiled at him. "Harry, so good to see you again." His voice sounded weak and cracked.

"Voldemort," Harry breathed.

The smile widened. "Beautiful," Voldemort remarked.

Harry's eyes narrowed. Voldemort was very good at confusing people, it seemed.

"How is your father?" Voldemort asked casually.

"Dead," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Thanks to you."

Voldemort's eyes widened. "Was it grief over dear Lily?"

Harry didn't understand. "What are you playing at? You killed him yourself!"

Voldemort's face relaxed and something like a laugh escaped his lips. "When you lied about seeing your parents in the mirror, did you mean James Potter?"

"Of course!" Harry was getting quite angry with the man now, but something stopped him from lashing out.

"Did Severus never tell you the truth about your father?"

The look on Harry's face told Voldemort his answer was no.

"Severus Snape is your father, Harry," Voldemort said.

Harry stood there rooted to the ground. Why would Voldemort say this? Was he telling the truth?

"Enough with the pleasantries. Give me the stone, Harry." Voldemort's voice barely pierced Harry's thoughts.

When Harry made no move, Voldemort ordered Quirrell to take it by force. Harry was knocked to the ground by the professor and Harry did nothing until he felt a hand near his pocket where the stone was. A hand grabbed Quirrell's and pulled it away from the stone which had fallen out of the pocket and onto the floor. Quirrell was screaming for Harry to let go and then Harry realised that Quirrell's hand was blistering in his own, as if he were being burnt. This was his chance, Harry decided. He could kill Voldemort now! He placed his hands on the sides of Quirrell's head and watched as he blistered, falling to his knees and screaming in agony. Harry didn't let go until he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Dumbledore staring down at him.

"Harry, you've done enough," Dumbledore said.

Harry looked down at Quirrell who was now unconscious on the floor, his face a deep red and a horrible sight. Suddenly he was very tired; everything he had heard was too much, almost killing Quirrell, ignoring the pain in his scar for as long as he had. Harry looked at the floor, searching for the stone, but it seemed to have disappeared. Knowing that Dumbledore was there, Harry gave into exhaustion.

Harry woke up in the hospital wing to find Dumbledore at the end of his bed.

"Ah, hello, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry sat up slowly and noticed a pile of chocolates at the end of his bed.

"You have admirers," Dumbledore noted, following Harry's line of sight. "Harry, are you okay?"

"Yes," Harry said. He felt great after a long sleep. "Professor, I have some questions."

"Ask away."

"What happened to the stone?"

Dumbledore seemed prepared for the question. "It has been destroyed." Harry's eyes widened. "Nicolas Flamel, its maker, decided it was for the best."

News of its destruction saddened Harry, but he wouldn't let it bother him. It's not like he needed gold and immortality.

"What happened to Quirrell?"

Dumbledore let out a sigh. "He might have survived, but Voldemort left Quirrell's body and he died not long after."

"So, Voldemort's still alive?" Harry asked.

"In a severely crippled form, yes."

"Can he come back?"

Dumbledore nodded. "There are ways… Anyway, when you are ready you may leave and join us for the feast." Harry began to get up immediately, realising how hungry he was, but Dumbledore held up a hand. "You have a few hours to wait yet, take your time."

Harry waited until the door closed behind Dumbledore before sliding out of the hospital bed. He threw on his robes and piled his gifts into his arms then set off to the dungeons. A quick trip to the dormitory to drop everything on his bed and wash his face so that he looked a bit more presentable (there would be no use trying to tame his hair) then he walked along the corridor until he reached Snape's office. So far he hadn't figured out what he was going to say. For all he knew Voldemort had lied and Harry was about to make a fool of himself and look slightly insane when Snape told him that he was just imagining that someone else was his father and that he should get over the fact that his parents are dead.

Harry knocked lightly on the wood and sure enough Snape opened the door, clothed in his usual black.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Can I come in?" Harry asked.

"Of course." Snape moved into his office and Harry followed, closing the door firmly behind him.

Snape sat behind his desk. Dumbledore had told the staff what had happened with Harry and as far as Snape could tell everyone was still in the dark about Harry's father. Which was fine. He wondered why Harry was suddenly paying him a visit; he hoped that it was just a case of the ordeal being a little traumatic.

"What would you like to talk about?" Snape asked, looking into Harry's green eyes.

"I…Professor…" Harry began. He really wasn't sure how to phrase this.

"Is this about the business with Quirrell and the stone?"

Harry nodded. "Well, kind of." He paused. "Voldemort told me something while I was down there." Snape tensed slightly. "He said that James Potter wasn't my dad."

Snape sighed. He guessed that the truth was out. Now was a better time than ever…

"No, he wasn't."

Harry's face fell slightly; he liked the idea of having a father that was a Gryffindor seeker. "Voldemort also said you're my father."

Snape closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment. After all these years he was finally free to be the father he wanted to be. "That is correct."

The boy before him had mixed emotions. He hadn't had much time to think about how he felt about having Snape as a father. But suddenly he was bursting with questions to the point where he didn't know where to begin.

Snape got up and walked around his desk so that he could be with his son. He took Harry's hand and pulled him to his feet in order to embrace the boy. Ever since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, Snape had wanted to hug Harry, but only now did he get the chance. Harry wound his arms around his new found father and Snape felt a tear escape due to joy.

"I'm sorry," Snape said.

Harry pulled away and looked up at the teacher who was quite tearful (against his will).

"Tell me everything," Harry said, sitting back down. Snape waved his wand and his chair disappeared from behind his desk and reappeared on the other side, not far from Harry's. Snape fell into the chair and sat with his fingers interlocked. Where should be begin?

"Was Lily my mother?" Harry asked to start.

Snape confirmed all of Harry's quick questions and told him about the history between him, James and Lily. During the conversation Snape repeatedly apologized for not taking Harry in and not being honest with the world. Harry was quite understanding of his reasons, but he had one question which Snape hoped he wouldn't ask.

"Why couldn't you just tell everyone?"

Snape couldn't make eye contact with Harry. "Please don't hate me. I loved your mother so deeply." Harry sat forward slightly. With his head in his hands Snape said, "I used a love potion."

Harry hadn't read much about love potions, but just from the name anyone could tell what they were. "So you took advantage of my mother while she was fawning over you?"

Snape looked up, straight into Harry's eyes. "I would never do that," he said seriously. "All I wanted was one kiss from the love of my life. Nothing more."

"But?" Harry pressed.

Snape blushed uncharacteristically. This was not the kind of conversation you had with your 11 year old son. "Harry, I…this is a conversation for another time." My, what a fatherly tone that came out in.

They talked for a little while more before Harry's stomach rumbled loudly and Snape suggested that they go up to the feast. They walked up the stairs together and before they reached the entrance hall Harry asked, "Do I call you dad now?"

Snape smirked. "Only when others aren't around. I'm sure this isn't something you want your classmates knowing."

"What if I don't mind?"

"I say you leave it out when we're in class," Snape said. "And be careful who you tell. Some people won't believe you straight away and I haven't even told Dumbledore."

Harry laughed. "Something Dumbledore doesn't know? That means this must all be a lie."

From the feast onwards time seemed to speed up. Harry spent as much time as he could with Snape, which also meant that he wasn't where people could question him about Voldemort and Quirrell. Soon enough lessons were over, Slytherin was holding the house cup and it was time to once again board the Hogwarts Express.

"Harry," Snape called as everyone filed out of the Great Hall after the final feast of the year.

They took one last trip to Snape's office where it was Snape's turn to ask a question. "Harry, I know how much you hate living with your aunt and uncle," Snape began, "would you like to come and live with me this summer?"

Harry's face lit up and he threw himself at his father. "Would I? Of course I want to!"

Snape smiled. He had feared rejection, but now he realised that Harry wasn't ever going to refuse his offer. "Get on the train tomorrow and I'll meet you on the platform at King's Cross."

"Do teachers get the train too?" Harry asked.

"Some do, it depends really. Some never leave the castle. Anyway, off to bed."

"Good night, dad."

Snape merely waved Harry off for he was choked up at his words.

The train ride back was uneventful. Harry sat with Draco and a couple of other Slytherins. They played a few games of exploding snap and used their wands for the last time before they would be forced to go back to the Muggle way of life with no magic.

Harry said goodbye to everyone on the platform as they left and waited for Snape to join him. The two of them took a train from London and Snape's house was a short way from the station, down a cobbled street. Harry had imagined that Snape would have some kind of mansion in the middle of nowhere and so was quite surprised when Snape stopped in front of a red brick semi-detached house where he clearly lived alongside Muggles. He remembered Draco telling Harry about his mansion with huge gardens, but clearly Snape had no need for such a place if he lived at Hogwarts for most of the year.

As they stepped in the lights turned on automatically. It was a dark hall with stairs to one side. Cobwebs were in the corners.

"Sorry about the place," Snape said. "I wasn't expecting to return home with someone."

Harry followed Snape through to the living room. The walls were lined with books in here and the only homely touch was a vase which held the remains of flowers that had long been dead.

"Well, this is home," Snape said. "It's not much, a bit on the dark side, but still home."

"Did your parents live here?" Harry asked, realising that they were his grandparents.

"Yes, I was brought up here. The house was left to me."

Harry wondered about the young Snape and what his life had been like.

"There's a bedroom upstairs for you, I'm sure you'll prefer it to that cupboard under the stairs."

"Do the Dursleys know?" Harry asked, realising that they were probably all as relieved as Harry that he wasn't returning.

"Dumbledore took care of all that. He's a very thoughtful man."

The next few hours were spent exploring the house and setting up his bedroom how he liked it. Harry opened the curtains to get some light in, but there just seemed to be something dark about the house. It seemed to reflect the dark days that Severus had been living in, hiding from the world.

"I think we should redecorate," Harry said.

Snape could not agree more and thus they spent the first two weeks of the summer brightening up the house and making it a more pleasant place to live. The job was finished with Severus replacing the dead flowers with fresh ones, which Harry saw were lilies.

"Have you always had them there?" Harry asked.

"Always."

The rest of the summer was passed with a multitude of things and it was by far the best summer Harry had ever had. On rainy days he picked a book from the hundreds in the living room, but on sunny days they would take trips to places like Diagon Alley and have ice cream. Snape helped Harry to complete his summer work and Harry gave Snape a few cooking tips he'd picked up at the Dursleys (clearly Snape had been at Hogwarts for too long). As the end of summer drew nearer, Harry received his book list and Snape gladly accompanied Harry to pick them up along with more potion supplies and his very own broomstick (a Nimbus 2001) which was some form of sorry-for-all-the-time-we-were-apart gift.