Grim

The morning was somewhat complicated: several Gryffindor students displaced in time had had to camp in the common room overnight, and breakfast was even more crowded than last night's feast had been.

The reality of the situation, however, didn't really sink in for Harry until well towards the afternoon. Classes were still in session, and he was running through the courtyard to Herbology when he heard raised voices.

"Ho! It's the snake!"

"Bugger, is he here too? Can't shake him, can you."

"Hangs about like a right pest-- hey, where's he going? Not so nasty without all his friends, is he-"

Harry blinked. The voices almost sounded familiar. Thus distracted, he turned a corner and slammed headlong into a fleeing student, knocking him backwards and scattering his books across the cobblestone.

"Oh, no! I'm sorry!"

The student that had been so loudly dubbed "Snake" was, unsurprisingly, Slytherin. He looked up at Harry: his eyes widened, and he flinched. "Potter!"

"Er?"

The other student stared for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Sorry. Thought you were Potter."

"But I AM."

"You're never James Potter.." The stranger was a tall young man with dark black eyes, pale skin, and a nose that could courteously be described as hawkish. His face was framed by a few strands of lank black hair that had escaped from where he'd tied it back.

"No," Harry agreed, stooping to help him gather up his books. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"You look like James, though" the Slytherin said, accepting the texts that Harry'd picked up. "Related, by any chance?"

"Ah. I'm his son." Harry frowned, offering him a hand up.

"REALLY." The young man grinned unpleasantly as he got to his feet. "That'll be a bit of a shock for him. Though I'm sure no-one's surprised that you're in Gryffindor.

"Um." Harry blinked. "Is my fa--er, James, HERE? I mean, now?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Little pra-" he stopped. "Sorry. We don't get on." The tone of his voice suggested that this was an understatement on the level of saying that the Hindenburg had had a bit of a fire. "He might've told you about me, even."

"No. Not really. He's dead. He died when I was a baby."

The Slytherin's smile faded into a dark and unsettlingly familiar frown. "Oh. Damn. I'm sorry-"

"No, it's all right. Really." Harry forced a smile.

"Here, we've not been introduced." The Slytherin shifted his books to one arm, and extended a hand. "My name's Severus. Severus Snape."

-----

"Dear lord, Harry, you look as if you've seen a ghost." Hermoine frowned at him as he slid into a seat.

"Worse," Harry murmured. "For one, I've just found out my father's here. And that's not all."

"I'd imagine not. Did you know that I ran into Proffessor McGonagall this morning? Her younger self, that is. It was quite disturbing. She was with another Quidditch chaser from her school days. And you'll never guess-- her friend kept calling her Minny. Minny McGonagal." Hermoine hung her head. "I'm not going to be able to sit through Transfiguration with a straight face ever again."

"Yeah, and I've seen Lupin about, and Hagrid too." Ron chimed in. "Not to mention that Bill's come back as a third year, and I could have sworn I saw Charlie as I was going to Defense against the Dark Arts."

"And how is the new teacher?"

Since Harry had come to Hogwarts, the school had gone through Dark Arts teachers at the rate of one a year. This year's was Professor Nolen. She was a solidly built woman who managed to look imposing despite her diminutive height: this impression was aided by the fact that she'd brought along a collection of antique swords, polearms, crossbows, and other implements of destruction which were displayed about her classroom. The general consensus was that it would take a medium-sized siege weapon to displace her, and hopes were high that she'd last out the year.

"All right. A bit absentminded, sometimes, but very nice. Got a capital sense of humour-"

Proffessor Sprout glared everyone into silence, and the lesson began.

----

"Look, James, he looks just like YOU!"

Harry flinched, dropped his lunch, and tried to slide surreptitiously under the table. Ron and Hermoine grabbed him by the arms and pulled him up firmly.

"You can't avoid them for the whole school year, Harry," Hermoine whispered.

"I can try."

"Hey, kid?" This was from a stocky young man who Harry recognized as Sirius. "What's your name? Just curious."

"Yes, can you please tell us?" This far more polite address was from James Potter himself, who did in fact bear an uncanny resemblance to Harry.

"Harry Potter," Harry mumbled.

Remus Lupin, currently a willowy sixth-year, nudged his beglassed companion. "See? Potter! I'll bet you're related."

"You'd win that bet," someone drawled behind them. "He's your SON, James."

James froze, eyes wide, and Severus--for it was he-- grinned.

"Push off, Snape," Sirius snapped.

Hermoine dropped her goblet of pumpkin juice, and Ron choked on a piece of bread. Sirius stepped forward and pounded him good naturedly on the back until he stopped coughing.

James leaned close to Harry. "Are you really?"

Harry nodded. James assumed a look of near-panic.

"I never thought.. a SON... I mean.." He blinked.

"I know. It's a bit disturbing for me, too," Harry said quietly.

"You don't think I'll end up meeting myself?" James asked nervously. "I don't think I want to meet myself as a father."

Harry bit his lip, and searched desperately for the best way to inform James that there was, in fact, no chance whatsoever of such an occurence. "Probably not," he managed finally. They stared quietly at each other for a moment, feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

"-damn sight politer than his father, certainly."

"Shut up about James before I knock you into next Thursday!"

"Do try, Black, it would be terribly amusing.."

The reverie between the generations was lost abruptly. James spun around and placed a restraining hand on Sirius's shoulder.

"Don't get into a fight, Sirius. We'll get into no end of trouble."

"He started it."

"How remarkably mature," Severus murmured, tucking his wand back into his robes.

"See?! He-"

"Come on, Sirius, let's just go somewhere else." Remus led the group away, and Severus disappeared in the direction of the Slytherin's table.

Ron and Hermoine were staring straight ahead, as if in shock. Hermoine was the first to try to speak.

"Was that... SNAPE?"

"Yes."

"Snape? The proffessor? Surly sort, paranoid, hates you?"

"I don't think he hates me at the moment. He's a bit too busy hating James." Harry poked his lunch with a fork, appetite completely gone. "I was polite to him, too, so he doesn't have much of a reason to be mad.."

And Proffessor Snape had been far less vicious to him, of late. He was angry all the time-- but not at Harry. At times, he seemed almost protective . Over the summer, Harry had seen him leaving the grounds, late at night-- cradling his arm-- always, always coming back in a foul mood, pale and drawn, full of repressed anger.

"Decent, for a Gryffindor, were his words." Hermoine had deserted her food, as well. She was idly leafing through a book.

She was interupted by a screech, and she watched in surprise as a a large gray owl flapped into the hall. "What? It's not time for mail." She looked at Harry questioningly, but he could only shrug in equal puzzlement.

Ron seemed unaware that she'd spoken. He stared at the huge bird in horror. "No. Not me, not me, not me.." The hall had gone completely silent, watching the progress of the owl.

It dropped down on one of the Ravenclaw tables. A pretty girl in the upper classes accepted the envelope it carried with shaking hands: as she read it, she began to cry. Two of her friends took her gently by the shoulders and led her away as she began to sob in earnest.

"Ron, what was that?" Hermoine grabbed him by the arm. "What does the owl mean?"

"It's a ministry owl," Ron whispered. "It means that her parents are gone."

---------

"I don't think either of you quite understand," Ron explained quietly. His voice rang unpleasantly loud in the common room; the afternoon's incident had thrown everyone off. Even Fred and George were quiet, standing like twin sentries at the door. "It's really dangerous out there. There was a huge rush to get all the kids off to school, because our parents know that we're safe here. But, see, our parents aren't safe.."

Hermoine looked sick. "How many other owls have there been?"

"Just one, so far. But Patrick only lost his dad..." Ron's jaw trembled. "What if the next one's mine?"

"It won't be," George snapped from the door. "Mum and dad will be fine."

"He's right, Ron. Your parents are probably perfectly safe," Hermoine said kindly.

"Sure. Yeah, wonderfully safe, what with dad out of favor in the Ministry of Magic, and working with Dumbledore."

Harry and Hermoine shared a helpless glance.

"I think it's time for bed," Hermoine murmured.

"Yeah." Ron grabbed his things and stalked up the stairs, followed by his brothers.

----------

Harry walked out of Defense Against the Dark Arts with his head whirling. He'd been expecting another year of rote memorization, but no-- theory. Proffessor Nolen taught theory. She'd launched straight into binding symbols, and numerology loomed grimly on the horizon.

A shadow detached itself from the darkness in a corner, and grabbed his sleeve. "Potter?"

Harry jumped, and clutched convulsively at his books. "Hello, Severus."

"Look, I need your help."

"Talk to me at lunch, all right?" Harry put him off desperately. "I'm going to be late for Transfiguration."

"Ooh, yes, I wouldn't have you be late for that. Minny certainly got shirty as she got older. It's frightening."

Harry made a small, strangled sound in his throat before hurrying on.

----------

Ron nudged Harry. "You'll never guess who's heading this way.."

Harry put down his fork. "Severus?"

"When did you and he get on first name terms?" Hermoine asked sharply. "And yes, it's him."

"He needed to ask me something. I told him to talk to me at lunch."

"Wonderful," Ron said, shooting him a dirty look.

A shadow loomed behind Harry. "Can you help me now?"

"I'll try." Harry turned around to face the Slytherin, and saw that his face was lined with an uncharacteristic confusion. Both the elder and the younger were usually quite confident..

"I came to you because you seem decent. And no-one else is giving me a straight answer, and you've been honest so far..."

Harry nodded, in an encouraging "I'm listening" sort of way.

"What do you know about me?"

Harry blinked. "That's.. a bit vague."

"Come off it, Harry!" Severus looked genuinely upset. "You go pale every time you see me. Your friends-" he guestured at Hermoine and Ron "-practically have siezures when my name is mentioned-- even Slytherins are jumpy when I'm about. You all recognize me."

"Yes," Harry said, trying to collect his thoughts.

"Come on, no one will tell me-"

Harry took a deep breath. "Have you been to Potions class lately?"

"No, I haven't. And I'll thank you not to change the subject."

Real pity welled up inside of Harry, and he shook his head. "I- can't."

"What do you mean?!" It was almost a shout.

"I'm sorry- I don't know how-"

The Slytherin snarled in exasperation. "If I guess, will you tell me?"

Harry nodded. That should be safe enough...

"I do wish you'd grow a spine and tell me," Severus snapped.

"I'm sorry."

Faced with such agreeable apology, Severus's anger changed mercurially back to worry. "All right. Let's see- I've been in the news lately."

Harry shook his head.

"I'm famous?" This with an air of hopefulness.

"Sorry."

"Won the Uric the Oddball prize for strangest death?"

Harry gave him a wideyed look. "There's a prize for-- never mind.."

"Not even getting close, am I."

"I'm afraid not."

"Can one of you tell me?" Severus leaned back to stare past Harry at Ron and Hermoine.

Ron went pale and mumbled something as he shook his head, and Hermoine snapped, "Why haven't you been to Potions?"

Severus glowered in the face of these supremely unhelpful answers.

"Well?" Hermoine said, looking prim.

"I've been skipping it to make way for double Dark Arts. It's not as if it matters." Severus sighed. "Fine. Where was I?"

"Uric the Oddball?"

"Right. Let's see... Went mad, donated a lethifold to the London Zoo?..."