Chapter Text
“That’s the best you’ve got, Malfoy?”
The blond stiffened, then straightened his collar with that insufferable air of superiority he always wore like a badge. Classic Malfoy.
"You're not even worth my time anymore, Potter."
To Harry’s surprise, Malfoy actually started turning away.
He only attempted to do a harmless Slugulus Eructo and he is walking off?
Harry's hand tightened around his wand. Part of him wanted to hex Malfoy for the cheap shot, but there was a little voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Hermione, telling him to be the bigger person.
Harry exhaled slowly, trying to convince himself. There were better things to do, after all. He had homework, Quidditch practice - anything was better than wasting time on Malfoy’s games.
He's backing off. Just let it go.
Harry began walking in the opposite direction when he felt something catch him around his ankles, making him stumble and trip face down. He could hear Malfoy’s laughter exploding in his ears.
"Still falling for a trip jinx, Potter?" Malfoy drawled, his voice full of mockery. "You’re even more pathetic than I thought."
If Malfoy wanted to provoke him then he bloody hell was doing a good job at it. Harry was dying to wipe off that smirk from his face.
Guess I do have time today after all.
Harry pushed himself up, wand in hand, and whirled on Malfoy. He found some satisfaction in the flicker of panic that flashed across the blond’s face.
“Furnuncu - ”
“Potter!”
Harry’s heart froze. That voice. Cold, commanding, and venomous. Slowly, he turned, his stomach sinking as Professor Snape strode towards them, black robes billowing like a dark cloud ready to strike.
“Casting spells in the corridor? And against another student?” Snape’s dark eyes narrowed. “Why am I not surprised?”
Harry slowly lowered his wand and tried composing himself. This wasn’t right, if only the man could’ve come a minute or two earlier he could have seen he wasn’t the one that started it!
"Professor, thank Merlin you’re here!" Malfoy’s voice oozed fake innocence, stepping into his role as the victim with disgusting ease. "Potter was about to assault me!"
Harry clenched his fists. The sheer audacity of Malfoy’s act made his blood boil.
“It wasn’t like that, Professor - ”
"Really? It wasn’t? Weren't you just moments ago pointing your wand at another student, ready to curse him?" Snape interjected, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“It was Furnunculus!” Harry yelled in frustration. “The worst that was going to happen was him getting pimples!”
And really Malfoy could use some so he would stop being so shallow! But Harry knew better than to voice that out loud.
“Intent is what matters, Potter,” Snape said icily. “Once again, you presume yourself above the rules. Thirty points from Gryffindor, and detention with me on Saturday. Five o’clock sharp.”
“What?” Harry’s voice cracked with indignation. “But I’ve got a Quidditch match on Saturday!”
Snape’s smirk deepened, and Harry felt his stomach twist with rage.
“Typical Potter,” Snape drawled. “Believing the world - or a Quidditch match - can’t go on without him.”
Malfoy snickered in the background, and Harry’s knuckles whitened around his wand. He forced himself to take a deep breath, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.
“That’s not what I meant,” Harry ground out through clenched teeth. “And Malfoy was the one who jinxed me first!”
“Funny, that’s not what I saw,” Snape said dismissively, turning on his heel. “Saturday, Potter. Don’t be late.”
Harry stared after him, his mind racing with a mix of anger and disbelief. He bet if Snape had seen with his own eyes Malfoy had started it he would still find a way to spin it into blaming him.
This wasn’t just unfair-it was completely unjust.
“Oh, like hell I am!” he blurted out, the words escaping before he could stop them.
Snape stopped. His head turned slowly, his eyes gleaming with malice.
“What was that, Potter?”
Harry met his glare head-on, his chest rising and falling. “I said I’m not doing it! You’re not being fair! I was defending myself, and you won’t even listen!”
Snape’s expression darkened as he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “I’ll decide what’s fair, Potter.”
“Well, then I’ll speak to Dumbledore!” Harry shouted, his frustration boiling over. “I’ll tell him you’re punishing me unfairly!”
Snape’s lips curled into a mockery of a smile. “Be my guest.”
Harry didn’t need to be told twice. With his blood still boiling, he turned and stormed down the corridor, muttering several curse words under his breath.
He initially had no intention of reporting anything to Dumbledore simply because he felt like the man had better things to do than to listen to yet another stupid fight between him and Malfoy but he had it. He had it with Snape always being biased when it came to his Slytherins.
Most specifically, he had it with Snape being biased when it came to him. It wasn’t his fault his dad had been awful to Snape when they were younger. He wasn’t his father, no matter how much Snape seemed determined to pretend otherwise!
It was not even about the Quidditch match; he was simply tired of being punished for things he didn’t do - sick of being a scapegoat for Snape’s grudge against his father. He shouldn’t have to keep putting up with this.
By the time Harry reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster’s office, his anger had dulled into bitter determination. He raised his fist to knock, but stopped short when he heard voices from inside.
“How do you think Harry will take the news?” Professor McGonagall’s voice sounded concerned. “The poor boy’s been through so much.”
Harry froze. Were they talking about him?
“He really has, Minerva,” came Dumbledore’s calm reply. “But what else is there to do? Keep the information from him? And Severus?”
Keep information from me? And Snape?
There was a pause before McGonagall answered, her tone careful. “Of course not. They both have a right to know, but we must deliver the news gradually—not all at once.”
Harry’s curiosity sharpened into suspicion. What did Snape have to do with this? And why were they talking about breaking news to him like he was some fragile child?
He edged closer, straining to hear.
“We should tell Severus first,” McGonagall continued. “I don’t imagine he’ll be exactly thrilled, but he’s an adult. He can process it better than Harry, and Merlin knows that boy has been dealing with so much recently.”
Harry bristled. McGonagall was talking about him like he was some emotionally unstable mess. He wasn’t! If anything, he was far more mature than a man who held grudges against teenagers. He could handle “mature topics” just fine- he’d always faced things that the average person his age wouldn’t even think about.
And if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was people keeping secrets from him.
“I agree,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “Perhaps Severus might even try to rebuild their relationship once he knows the truth.”
Harry almost laughed out loud. Rebuild their relationship? With Snape? The man would sooner give Gryffindor house points than make an effort to get along with him!
“Do you really think Severus will eventually accept Harry?” McGonagall asked hesitantly.
Harry’s confusion deepened. What is going on? Why does Snape need to have a better relationship with me? And why the bloody hell would he need to accept him? And as if he cared if that man accepted him anyway!
“But of course, Minerva,” Dumbledore’s voice spiked cheerfully, “no matter the history, nothing is stronger than a bond between a father and son.”
Harry wanted to snort at the overly sentimental statement before he actually processed it.
Wait a minute…father and son!?
“I still can’t believe it myself,” McGonagall admitted. “But you’re right, Albus. Beneath his exterior, Severus is a good man. I don’t think he’ll reject Harry—not once he knows the truth.”
Dumbledore’s cheerful tone grated on him. “Of course not. I believe Severus will step up and be the figure Harry needs.”
Harry’s stomach churned. He didn’t want to hear anymore, but his feet refused to move.
Dumbledore continued, his happy tone irritating Harry by the second, “Knowing it’s something that ties him with Lily will for sure spark something in him even if at first he denies it.”
His mother…and Snape?
She wouldn’t…not when she had James. Or would she?
No. This was nonsense. A sick joke.
He backed away, shaking his head as their words echoed in his mind. Dumbledore and McGonagall couldn’t seriously believe this, could they? Surely this was some elaborate prank - something Snape had orchestrated to humiliate him.
The man had always hated him and no doubt this was all made up by Snape to further torment him and mess with his mind!
Yes, that must be it.
He already had a father despite him being long gone.
Harry turned his heel and rapidly walked away, not wanting to hear another word. Dumbledore and McGonall should really be ashamed of themselves for gossiping and lying about such baloney!
But no matter how much he wanted to dismiss it, doubt began to creep in. Dumbledore wasn’t the type to spread baseless rumors, and McGonagall…she was always so stern, so no-nonsense. Why would they lie about something like this? Or talk about it as if it was a fact without a doubt?
And it’s not like they knew he had been eavesdropping…
Harry clenched his fists tightly, his heart pounding. He needed answers. Now.
He didn’t know why Dumbledore and McGonall had implied Snape was his…Merlin he didn’t even want to think about it or say the word. But he was going to get to the bottom of this.
He needed to know where they had gotten all of this from and he couldn’t wait until they spoke to Snape. He had to see the man first.
However, one thing was certain.
No matter where they had gotten their sources or what anyone said, nothing was ever changing the fact that James Potter was his one and only father.
“I need to speak to Snape. I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Harry told his friends after potion class, hoping they wouldn’t question him.
To his relief, Ron and Hermione seemed eager to escape, probably off for another private makeout session without Harry third wheeling.
“Alright, mate. See you,” Ron said, grabbing Hermione’s hand as she smiled, and the two dashed off the classroom.
Harry stayed behind, pretending to pack up his books while the rest of the students filed out. He didn’t need his family business turning into even more gossip fuel by tomorrow, thank you very much.
He waited until the last student was gone, leaving only Snape at his desk, hunched over a pile of essays. The professor’s quill scratched furiously across parchment, and Harry could already imagine the torrent of failing marks Snape was no doubt dishing out.
For a moment, Harry hesitated. What was he even doing? Did he really want to confront Snape about what he’d overheard? What if it wasn’t true? What if it was? And even if it was, what good would it do to tell Snape now? Hell, how exactly was he supposed to even tell Snape something like this? “Oh, by the way, you’re my dad”—yeah, right. Snape would probably faint right there and then.
Only Snape would be awful enough to have wasted years hating his own blood. But what else could be expected from someone like the man?
Besides Harry loathed the man, Snape easily ranked a solid fourth on his “most detestable people” list, right behind Voldemort, Malfoy, and the Dursleys. Of course the feeling Snape felt towards him was no doubt even nastier but Harry didn’t care one bit.
He had lived fine without a proper guardian all his life, why would he need one now? And Snape outta all people no less!
Maybe Snape didn’t have to know anything of what he had heard. After all, if something wasn’t broken why fix it?
Deciding some things were better left unsaid, Harry turned his heel and began to depart from the room until a voice called him out.
“Since you’ve decided to linger, Potter, perhaps you’d care to explain why you’re still here?” Snape drew without looking up.
So Snape had noticed he stayed behind but was ignoring him. Typical Snape.
“It’s nothing important,” Harry said, his voice a little too high-pitched to sound convincing.
Snape looked up, dark eyes narrowing as they bore into Harry’s. “I’ll determine what’s important. Speak.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably under the professor’s piercing gaze. He really should have rehearsed this. “I...uh...you and I - we’re...um - ”
Snape’s lips curled in amusement. “Astounding, Potter. Every day, your brilliance shines brighter.”
“Really?” Harry asked, momentarily thrown to realize an insult was coming.
“With your boundless stupidity,” Snape sneered, his lips curling into a triumphant smirk. “And your inability to form coherent sentences.”
Harry felt his temper flare. He balled up his fists, his resolve to stay calm crumbling under Snape’s insults. “Oh, I’m stupid, huh? Funny, that’s something else we apparently have in common.”
Snape’s expression darkened, and for a moment, Harry wondered if he’d finally pushed the man too far. “You insolent little - ”
“What, going to take off points for Gryffindor now?” Harry interrupted, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Go ahead. I’m used to it.”
Snape rose from his chair, stalking closer. His dark robes billowed slightly as he loomed over Harry, his voice low and dangerous. “Believe me, Potter, I am prepared to do far more than take points. Your arrogance knows no bounds. Just like your - ”
“Shut up!” Harry shouted, cutting him off.
Snape’s expression froze, clearly taken aback by the outburst. Harry felt a surge of satisfaction but kept going, his frustration spilling out in a rush. “You always say I’m just like my father. Well, wouldn’t you love to know the truth?”
Snape narrowed his eyes. “What truth? Spit it out, Potter, or kindly leave my sight.”
Harry stared at him, his anger further bubbling to the surface. He wanted to yell, to tell Snape exactly what he thought of him, but instead, he said, “I overheard Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall talking about me. About us. ”
Snape folded his arms, unimpressed. “Eavesdropping now, are we? How very Gryffindor of you.”
“Shut up and listen!” Harry snapped. “They said - ” He hesitated for a moment, then plunged forward. “They said you and I are related.”
“Related?” Snape repeated and Harry rolled his eyes, much to the professor’s displeasure.
“You heard me and in Dumbledore’s own words he said…no matter the history there is no stronger bond than a father and son.”
Snape’s face paled, looking genuinely stunned without words before it turned into fury. “What idiotic prank is this, Potter? Did Weasley put you up to this?”
What was seriously wrong with the man? He really thought he had nothing better to do?
“Why the hell would I joke about this?” Harry snapped.
“Language, Potter,” Snape growled. “And because your desperate need for attention knows no bounds.”
Harry laughed, cold and humorless. “Desperate for whose attention? Yours? Don’t flatter yourself. Why would I ever want to be your son? You’re a coward, a Death Eater, and a spineless bully!”
Snape concluding that Harry would ever taint the memory of James Potter by pretending Snape was his father was insulting itself!
Snape’s face twisted into a mask of wrath, but Harry wasn’t done. “James Potter was ten times the man you’ll ever be!” Harry shouted. “He died protecting me, he was brave, he cared about others, and you? What have you ever done except join a blood supremacy cult?”
Snape’s hand slammed onto the desk. “OUT! Leave, or so help me, Potter - ”
Despite the professor looking more intimidating and furious than anything Harry’s ever seen him, he wasn’t scared or much less backing down.
Snape thought of him as an arrogant attention seeker? Might as well give him that then.
Harry’s voice dropped to a low mocking with faux pity. “But you wouldn’t know anything about being a decent person would you, Snivellus? You wouldn’t know about protecting others because you’re just a self-loathing -”
The sound of Snape’s hand striking Harry’s face echoed through the room, cutting off the words.
The force sent Harry stumbling, his head colliding with a stool. Pain exploded everywhere and Harry felt like the room was spinning. A sharp, warm sensation trickled down the back of his scalp. Bringing his fingers to the spot, he pulled them back to see blood smeared across his skin.
Everything was silent except for Harry’s ragged breathing. What the hell just happened?
Snape…slapped him. Across the face like a ragged doll.
Not even the Dursleys had ever drawn blood from him and Merlin knew how much they despised him.
He stared up at Snape in shock. The professor’s face was ashen, his dark eyes wide with something almost like horror. For a moment, neither of them spoke until Snape took a hesitant step forward, reaching out.
“Potter,” Snape began, his voice soft, almost pleading. “You’re hurt, let me take you to the Hospital Wing.”
Harry immediately rejected Snape’s hands as they briefly touched his shoulders. How dare the man even try to touch him after this?
“Don’t touch me!” Harry shouted, scrambling to his feet and stepping back. Anger burned through him, hotter than anything he’d ever felt before. “I HATE YOU!”
Snape froze completely, his outstretched hand trembling slightly before it fell back to his side.
Harry’s chest heaved with a mix of outrage and humiliation. “There’s no one more horrible than you,” he spat, his voice breaking as an angry tear slid down his cheek. “I hate you so much!”
Snape’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He looked almost...helpless.
Harry turned on his heel and stormed out of the classroom, his head pounding and his chest burning with hatred and frustration.
Behind him, Snape collapsed into his chair, burying his face in his hands.