Intersections in Real Time

"No," he said after a long silence, "I would have come for you regardless of your talents."

Harry wasn't sure if he believed what the wizard had said, but he couldn't help the joy that surged through him at Mr. Snape's words. He expected the man to say more, but Mr. Snape turned abruptly away from him, toward Dumbledore.

"Where are we going, Albus?" he asked.

"That delightful tea room on the second floor. It's not much farther." Mr. Dumbledore smiled once at Harry, then began walking again. Harry decided that he liked this kind old man.

Nothing more was said as they headed towards the room. More and more, Harry found himself lagging behind. One part of him wanted answers. The other part wished that this entire day had never happened.

Dumbledore stopped at a door to their right and gestured politely for Mr. Snape and Harry to precede him. When he entered, Harry found Mr. Snape staring, as if mesmerized, at a painting of a serpent wound about a tree within a splendid garden. The snake uncurled itself from the tree and slid down to swallow one of the many fruits that littered the ground.

"Why don't you take a seat?" suggested Dumbledore softly. Harry pulled his eyes away from the painting and tentatively took one of the tall-backed chairs that graced the centre of the room. Despite the dark velvet cushioning, he had to squirm around to find a comfortable position. Once he was seated, Dumbledore settled into the chair to his right, while Mr. Snape took the remaining chair with a scowl on his face.

"And now for the tea," said Dumbledore. He gestured with his wand.

Harry blinked and suddenly there was a strange creature before them. It placed a fully laden tray on the small table that sat between their chairs. Harry stared at the squat creature's huge eyes and floppy ears. It made as if to pour their tea, but Dumbledore stopped it.

"That will be all, Biffy. Thank you," said Dumbledore. The creature disappeared with a nod and a slight pop.

"That was a house-elf," said Mr. Snape with a satisfied smirk.

Dumbledore poured tea for them all, and Harry took a cup, though all he did was hold it.

"Where to begin?" mused Dumbledore. He glanced at Mr. Snape, who was staring rather fixedly into his tea. "Severus..." The wizard looked up and met Dumbledore's eyes before focusing on Harry.

"Your mother and I met here at Hogwarts. Our relationship was...difficult, though not because of us," said Mr. Snape. Harry could have sworn that he heard Dumbledore cough at that point. "But because of the way the world was."

A thought occurred to Harry. The Dursleys had always said his parents were killed in a car crash, but after a mere glimpse of this magical world, Harry knew that couldn't be true. These wizards had to be able to stop something as simple as a car crash. Mr. Snape had said they didn't even use cars. So what had killed them - or at least his mother - and how had he survived?

"Does this have to do with my scar?" he asked.

The dark-haired wizard froze. "Yes," he said, his smooth voice sounding unusually hoarse. That look of pain was on his face again.

"Perhaps I should continue?" asked Dumbledore mildly. "You see Harry, nearly twenty years ago a dark wizard, Voldemort, began his rise to power. He recruited followers who shared his hatred of Muggles and Muggle-borns."

"Muggle-borns?" questioned Harry.

"Magical children born to Muggle parents," said Mr. Snape impatiently. "Hence, Muggle. Born."

"But what does Voldemort have to do with me?" asked Harry, ignoring his so-called father. He was beginning to suspect that Mr. Snape couldn't survive without insulting someone every few minutes. The man didn't like being ignored, however, and he sneered at Harry.

"He has everything to do with you. You destroyed him!" Harry's hand went to his scar. He traced the lightening bolt with his finger. He knew he had gotten it in the "accident" that had killed his parents. Green light. All he could remember was green light.

"I don't understand," he said. Dumbledore gave him a sympathetic look, then shot a stern glance at Mr. Snape.

"Your father was spying on Voldemort at my request. In order to carry on his relationship with your mother without endangering her, and later you, we worked out a rather unusual arrangement," said the older wizard. "Lily Evans married James Potter, but in reality, she married your father, who was using Polyjuice potion to impersonate James." Harry's head was spinning.

"Polyjuice is a potion that allows someone to transform themselves into someone else for a certain amount of time," said Mr. Snape before Harry could ask. He sounded sad.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, picking up the narrative. "James was the perfect choice. He had dated Lily earlier in his Hogwart's career and due to the..." Dumbledore paused. "...dislike between him and your father, no one would have suspected Lily of associating with Severus after the marriage. James himself spent most of his time off on missions for me, and Severus was free to spend his time off-duty time with your mother. I believe you got very good at impersonating James, didn't you, Severus?"

Mr. Snape scowled. "Too good," was all he said.

Dumbledore took a long sip of his tea. "When you were born, Harry, we were all a bit shocked," he said. "Lily and Severus had been using anti-conception charms, and, well..."

"You looked like Potter," said Mr. Snape with disgust. "And the older you grew, the more you looked like him."

"A Paternity Potion determined right away that Severus was your father, but didn't explain your appearance. Eventually we decided that the anti-conception charms had reacted badly with the remnants of Polyjuice potion in your father's system." Harry thought about the logistics of this and was glad he wasn't prone to blushing. He knew about sex from school and overheard conversations between Dudley and Piers, but it didn't mean he wanted to picture the sour-faced wizard in front of him and his mother...

Harry took a large gulp of his now lukewarm tea. His stomach rumbled quietly at him. Remembering that he had never finished breakfast, he concentrated on devouring a biscuit from the tray in front of him. He could feel anger building up inside of him, along with hurt and despair.

So they hadn't wanted him, had they? He glanced at his father. So he hadn't wanted him...

"Lily was so happy when you were born," said Dumbledore. Harry's head snapped up. How had Dumbledore known what he was thinking? "And Severus was happy as well, despite his misgivings. He was so worried about keeping you both safe. He even agreed to have the Fidelius Charm performed, knowing that it would require James to stay with you and your mother while he was forced to stay away."

"Voldemort was getting suspicious," said the younger wizard softly. He appeared to be lost in his own memories.

"Then, ten years ago, on Hallowe'en night, they were betrayed. Voldemort attacked Godric's Hollow, where you lived, and killed James and Lily. But when he came to you." Dumbledore paused, as if he was choosing his words carefully. "His curse went awry. You gained that scar, and Voldemort hasn't been seen since."

Harry put down his now-empty cup of tea.

"But that doesn't explain why I spent ten years with the Dursleys," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. This was too much. He didn't want to deal with this any more.

"You weren't safe with me," said Snape. The wizard laughed rather harshly. "Who would believe that James and Lily Potter's son belonged to me? The Boy Who Lived, the son of a convicted Death Eater. Wouldn't that have made an interesting headline?"

"We deemed it safer to leave you with your relatives," said Dumbledore after it was clear that Snape was not going to continue. "There has been a powerful spell on you to protect you since that night. Unfortunately, it only lasts for ten years - it would have worn off in a few months. We will be renewing the spell on Hallowe'en, but this time, we will bind it to the blood you and your father share. Until then, you should be safe at Hogwarts."

Harry settled back in his chair, staring at the painting of the serpent. It reminded him of the boa constrictor he had let loose from the zoo many months ago. He wondered what it would be like to have that freedom.

*****

Harry stood in the corridor outside the tea room with his father beside him. The wizard looked as lost as Harry felt. Dumbledore had suggested that Snape show him the school before disappearing with a speed Harry would never have suspected possible for a wizard his age. Snape stared after the Headmaster for a long moment, then turned to Harry.

"Come on," he snapped.

Harry followed, his mind still reeling from the revelations over tea. They started to climb a long staircase made of wood. It seemed as good a time as any to say the one word he wanted to say.

"Father?" he said softly. Snape whirled around, his eyes flaring with emotion.

"Don't call me that!" he hissed.

Shocked by the response, Harry turned his head away so Snape wouldn't see the hurt on his face. He heard Snape sigh.

"Look at me!" the man said in a commanding tone. Harry did as he was told.

"You can't call me that, Harry," said Snape in a tired voice. "Only Dumbledore, you, and I know about our relationship, and that's the way it will remain. When you enter the school, it will be as Harry Potter, not Snape."

"I'm sorry," said Harry. Snape didn't seem to hear him.

Harry could have sworn a few minutes ago that he wasn't even sure he wanted to call this man Father. But now that the privilege had been taken away, it was all he wanted to do. "Perhaps," he started slowly, watching the eyes of the man before him. "I could call you Father in private?"

"And what happens when you slip?" Snape sounded serious, despite the implied insult.

"I won't slip," said Harry defiantly. He was treated to another of those evaluating stares.

"All right," said Snape finally. "In private. Now, what did you want?"

"Want?" Harry's mind was blank. Snape made an impatient gesture.

"When you started all this "Father" business."

"Oh." Harry scrambled for something to say. Had he even had a question? "I was wondering why you live here if you have a house?" he asked eventually, trying to ignore the growing expression of annoyance on his father's face for making him wait.

"I'm a professor here," said Snape. He didn't sound very happy about it. Harry privately agreed. There were many things that Severus Snape struck him as, but a teacher wasn't one of them.

"That's good," said Harry lamely. "What do you teach?"

"Potions."

"What's that?" Harry asked, hoping it was a safe subject. Surprisingly enough, it was. Snape went on at length about the intricacies of potions brewing as they walked, occasionally stopping to discuss a relevant part of Hogwarts.

Harry decided that the actual brewing of potions sounded boring, but he was intrigued by the fantastic things they could do when finished. He was also forced to revise his opinion about Snape as a teacher. The man might not have many people skills, but he certainly knew what he was talking about. Harry just hoped that Snape didn't expect him to remember it all.

They had a quick lunch in the kitchen while Harry marvelled at the sheer number of house-elves in Hogwarts. Snape then showed him the library, giving him a copy of a book entitled Hogwarts: A History - mostly, Harry suspected, so that he would stop asking annoying questions about the school. He was loaded down with a few other books as well, along with an admonition to return them before school started so Madam Pince wouldn't kill them both.

They entered the Great Hall after that, and Harry found he couldn't take his eyes off the ceiling above. It showed an almost painfully blue sky, dotted with clumps of white clouds. The previous rain had drifted away.

Harry placed the books on one of the four long tables and turned eagerly to Snape.

"Can we go outside?" he asked. Many long years of hiding outside from Dudley and his gang had taught him to appreciate every clear day. Snape scowled at the request, but headed for the doors anyway.

"I suppose you've never seen a Quidditch pitch before," he said in a casual tone as he held the main door open for Harry. After a day spent in Harry's company, Snape seemed more comfortable with him, though there were still occasions where Snape got that look of pain on his face or became, well, snappish.

"Hullo, Harry," said a friendly, if deep, voice. A giant of a man with a great busy beard stood at the foot of the main steps. He had black eyes like Snape's, only his glittered with a happiness Harry had never seen in Snape's eyes.

The giant, apparently overcome with emotion, reached out and pulled Harry into a massive hug. "Haven't seen yeh since yeh were a baby!"

Harry relaxed into the big man's embrace. He couldn't remember ever being hugged before.

He was pushed out to arms length and looked up and down. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes." Harry felt himself stiffen. He looked anywhere but at the man in front of him.

"If you're through smothering him, Hagrid," said Snape from behind him. "I was going to show him the grounds." His voice was cutting, and Harry knew that Snape's eyes were fixing Hagrid in a glare. The giant didn't seem to notice it, however.

"Yeh have ter let me show him the grounds, Professor!" The giant surprised Harry by winking at him. He waited anxiously for his father's answer.

"Of course, Hagrid. After all you do know them best," said Snape in a polite, yet somehow mocking voice. Harry wanted to gape at his father, to ask him why he had given in so easily, but when he turned around, the door was already slamming shut. He turned back to Hagrid. What had he done to make Snape abandon him?

Hagrid grinned at him and stuck out a huge hand. "Name's Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts, but yeh can call me Hagrid. Everyone does, even Professor Snape." The giant chuckled at that, then turned away from him. "Here, Fang!" he bellowed. A huge black dog bounded across the grass toward them to slobber all over Hagrid's knees. They set off towards the lake, Hagrid talking as they went.

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon with Hagrid and Fang. He even had something of a good time. It was hard to stay depressed around Hagrid and the man was eager to show Harry everything. He took him some distance into the Forbidden Forest to show him a nest of strange birds with two heads that he called Biviums.

Hagrid led him back into the Great Hall as dusk fell. Harry was surprised to find his father and Dumbledore seated at the High Table. Dumbledore invited Hagrid to join them for supper and magically enlarged a chair for him.

Harry sat down reluctantly next to Snape. He didn't even blink when the food magically appeared on their plates. He was too busy watching his father out of the corner of his eye and wondering why the man had gotten rid of him this afternoon. There was no way he could ask while Hagrid was present, however, so he endured the cheerful small talk between Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid and tried to concentrate on the food.

Finally, the meal was over, and Snape and Harry headed for one of the many doors leading out of the Great Hall. He could hear Hagrid protesting Harry's accommodations in what the giant no doubt thought was a whisper.

Snape led him down many dark stairwells, and Harry realized they were entering the one part of the castle he had yet to be shown - the dungeons. There was little light in the corridors. Perhaps that explained why Snape's skin was so pale. He was lost in thought, trying to think of a way to ask his question about this afternoon without being snapped at, when Snape stopped at a dark mahogany door.

"This is your room," he said, and pushed the door open.

Green was the first impression Harry received. It was his second impression as well. Everything in the room that could be decorated was in various shades of deep green.

"It's very green," said Harry, stepping past his father and into the room. The room was actually tasteful. It was just so green...

"Yes, one has to wonder why they called it the Green Room," said Snape. He made to leave and Harry knew he had to ask his question now.

"Father?"

Snape pulled up short, and Harry could see his shoulders bunching up under his robe.

"Why did you let Hagrid take me outside today?" he asked.

"Did you have a good time?" asked Snape.

"Yes, but-"

Snape nodded his head forcefully. "Then there is your answer." He left in a swirl of black robes, the door clicking shut behind him.

Harry stared after him for a moment, trying to understand, then sighed and got ready for bed. Pyjamas (green) were laid out for him, and he found the toilet through one of the other doors. His books from earlier were on a chair near the door, though he ignored them for now.

Harry settled into the bed. The soft blankets and mattress felt strange to him after so many years in the cupboard. He stared up at the ceiling for awhile, trying to think.

His parents' murder - or, rather, one of his parents being murdered. Groundskeepers. Voldemort. Paternity Potions. Spies. Fidelius Charms. Magic and Hogwarts. And, of course, a certain dark-haired wizard. Life was so confusing, and Snape was the most confusing thing of all.

Eventually, he drifted off to sleep. He dreamt that his father was in the room. Not the half-formed picture he had imagined for years, but the sneering wizard he had met today. Snape was staring down at him with those inscrutable black eyes. Harry wanted to talk to him, wanted to find out why there was so much sadness in his face. He wanted to know if he was the cause of that sadness.

He tried to speak, but the Snape in his dream jerked back, fading away into the darkness. Everything was black then. Harry waited for a long time and noticed that it was getting brighter, as if dawn were coming. But this was not the brightness of the sun, unless the sun shone green. The green light grew brighter, so bright he threw his hands up to shield his eyes. His scar burned. Mocking laughter surrounded him, echoing through his mind.

Harry sat up with a shudder and found his hands pressed tightly over his scar. He watched the door to his room swing shut with a small click, and shivered as his sweat-soaked body reacted to the cool air. Was he still dreaming? Had that even been a dream? He lay back down, pulling the covers close and turning on to his side. A few breaths later, he was asleep. If he had any more dreams, he couldn't remember them in the morning.