Thems is the tough breaks methinks. I am terribly sorry it's taken me so long but I've been terribly busy with all sorts of grown up things and such. Jokes, seriously though I apologise for how long it's taken for me to write this.

Disclaimer: I keep asking but J.K. Rowling won't give me the rights. So *sigh* Harry Potter still belongs to J.K. Rowling and not me. I just screw around with the characters.

Quick refresher:

Harry grasped the little bottle in his suddenly sweaty hand.

His gaze hardened.

"Bring it bitch." He said, gulping back the mouthful and ignoring the icy feeling in favour of striding through the flames wand-first.

The door swung open and revealed a tall, slim figure, complete with purple turban.

"Hello Professor Quirrell"

The turbaned teacher didn't even turn before throwing a silent Incarcerous towards Harry who neatly dodged it, slipping to the side and calmly leaning against a column that stood there. Quirrell, arrogantly believing he had caught the first year with his spell, didn't even turn to look. Hidden behind his left fore-arm, his right hand clung tightly to the dark wood of his wand while his mind was running through the best spells to throw.

He decided on a simple one first.

Carefully aiming for Quirrell's head, he cast his first spell, "Wingardium Leviosa."

The effect was instantaneous. The purple turban rose up from Quirrell's head to hover in the air, two feet above his head.

The robed man whirled on the spot, a look of anger marring his normally nervous features but he wasn't fast enough for Harry. He'd seen the face that resided on the back of Quirrell's head; recognised the eyes and definitely the lack of nose.

"You appear to have a dangerous creature on your head Quirrell. And no, I don't mean your face although to be honest, I think that thing counts as dangerous."

Harry's magic could sense the storm of magic about to be unleashed from Quirrell's wand and quickly spun behind the column he'd been leaning against, feeling the impact of the spells hammering against the stone.

The spells ceased and Quirrell's voice called to Harry, "You're more arrogant than I'd thought. You would think to insult me when I, I am the host of the one who destroyed your life; when the power that I may now wield is far greater than any eleven year-olds, even the power of the precious Boy-Who-Lived. I could kill you right now and no-one in this castle would ever know. Scared Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes and tucked his wand under his arm, shooting a silent tickling curse at the Professor who had no reason to expect a silent casting from a child and was promptly left clutching at his stomach, laughing heartily. Harry could hear the man frantically trying to cancel the spell but could hear that he was having difficulties in forming any real sounds.

Harry walked past the struggling man and stood in front of the mirror. His eyes flicked up to the ornate golden framing and the engraved letters at the top; Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

He could feel the corners of his mouth turning down. What the hell did that mean? He paused to think, his mind trying to work faster due to the danger of the slowly calming man behind him.

It's a mirror, so maybe it's a mirror image. He read the words backwards, piecing them together until it made sense. I show not your face but your heart's desire. Harry grimaced and thought, what was his heart's greatest desire right now?

To get out of here alive and with him gone. He looked back to the mirror itself and saw his own reflection, pale and small. As he watched, the Harry in the mirror reached into his pocket. He inched closer to see what his reflection was doing when he was taken by surprise.

His breath came out in a short gasp as he was seized around the middle and thrown to the side of the room, his small body curling around one of the columns as he landed. He felt the unmistakable feeling of ropes winding around his body and almost cried out when his wand was plucked from his hand.

Quirrell smiled cruelly and kicked the young boy in the stomach, feeling a surge of satisfaction go through him when Harry let out a groan at the pain.

"Pathetic really. You are no match for m-" his voice cut off as a new one, hissing and cold, interrupted him.

"Let me speak to him."

Quirrell's hands twisted together, fidgeting with Harry's wand, "Master, you are not strong enough."

"I have strength enough, for this."

Quirrell's swallow was audible and Harry twisted in his bonds until he was facing the man. Quirrell looked down at Harry before slowly turning, showing Harry the serpentine face once more.

The words escaped Harry before he could think to stop them, "You look like shit!" Unwilling to let his embarrassment show on his face, Harry was careful to hold Voldemort's gaze.

A hissed chuckle was his first reply, "Harry Potter. Do you see what has become of me? Mere vapor, left to feed on the life of my newest servant."

"Sucks to be you." Harry mumbled, focusing his power to cut the ropes that bound him.

Voldemort continued, ignoring what Harry had said, "I do remember killing your parents you know. Your father was first. Oh, he put up a brave fight but, in the end, killing him was like swatting a fly that had pestered me for too long. That's the problem with Gryffindors; they don't know when they should just give up."

Harry snorted to cover the sound as his bindings were cut right down his back, "Yeah, poor you. Maybe if he had given up I wouldn't have destroyed you."

Voldemort was clearly beginning to lose his cool, but he continued to try and break Harry, "Your mother was next Harry. I told her to stand aside, told her she could live, but she refused. She died, in the hope that you wouldn't. Funny really. How proud of you do you think she'd be hm? Harry Potter sorted into Slytherin, best friends with a Malfoy, rude to Dumbledore and clearly good friends with the resident dungeon bat."

Harry stood and shook off the ropes, smirking at Voldemort whose face showed the slightest modicum of surprise.

"I think she's a damn sight more proud of me than your mother is of you."

Voldemort's face darkened, "Quirrell!"

Quirrell turned and trained his wand on Harry. Before the raven-haired boy could even think of dodging he heard the spell cast, and felt immense pain as it hit.

Merlin the pain. It felt like someone had taken hold of his bones, his muscles, his nerves and tissue and began to shred them, setting fire to each one as they went. He fell to his knees in sheer agony as the pain continued to ravage his small body. His teeth were clenched together in the effort to stop himself from screaming, unwilling to let them have that satisfaction. The curse lifted and he dragged in a breath before it started again, the pain echoing through his limbs and pounding into his head. He couldn't stop it this time. He screamed. And Quirrell stopped.

As Harry caught his breath Harry felt himself being lifted by magic and dragged to stand in front of the mirror. Quirrell's cold voice sounded in his ear, "Tell me what you see boy."

Harry felt his heavy head forced up by the same magic until he was looking his reflection in the eyes. His reflection winked and reached into its pocket, pulling out a blood red stone and winking again before dropping it back in. At the same time, Harry felt a heavy weight slip into his own pocket.

I have the stone. Shit!

Quirrell growled, "Well! What do you see?!"

Harry put on his best shocked face before drawing his shaking hands up to the mirror, "Mum? Dad?"

Quirrell growled again and took hold of Harry's collar, throwing the boy backwards and onto the stone floor behind him. Harry landed heavily on his back and took a deep breath, trying to stop his body shaking. Realising that it was no use he scrambled to his feet and staggered towards the door. His hand had just landed on the handle when Voldemort called.

"He liess..."

Quirrell whipped around and pointed his wand at Harry again, "Where is it boy? I know you have it!"

Harry reached towards his magic, startling as he saw how low it was. He realised the torture had probably used up some of his magic. He carefully lifted his hand a tiny bit and cast a silent and wandless Accio, smiling as his wand darted out of Quirrell's pocket and landed in his hand.

He quickly spoke, "Expelliarmus!"

Quirrell's wand flew toward him and he pocketed it, keeping his wand trained on the man.

Harry smirked, "I'm going to leave now."

As he began to turn Voldemort let out a horrendous shriek, "KILL HIM!"

Quirrell lunged forward and seized Harry about the throat, squeezing tightly. Harry gasped for breath, stars beginning to fill his vision as he ran out of air.

Then suddenly, Quirrell let go, staggering backwards cradling his hands.

"Master! My hands!" Harry desperately tried to focus and saw to his disgust, that Quirrell's hands were beginning to blister before his eyes. His jaw dropped when the blistered skin began to crumble.

Harry wasted no time and, without giving himself time to think about it, he had leapt forward and clung on to Quirrell's head with both hands.

The man screamed in agony and Harry felt a brief surge of guilt before he steeled his resolve and held on even tighter, clinching his eyes shut as pain began to spread through his forehead. He felt the pain most acutely in his scar, the ache felt like it was threatening to burst his head in half.

And somehow the pain seemed to get worse. As the pain built he began to think that he should ask for the torture curse instead.

He heard someone calling his name, felt frantic hands wrenching him away from Quirrell.

He saw black hair and smelt the familiar scent of peppermint.

"Dad..." He whispered, before falling into oblivion.

Severus Snape sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair in the hospital wing, eyes fixed on his son's face. His hand rose to sweep the hair from his charge's eyes, gently resting on the pale forehead before returning to its place in the potions master's lap. He sighed and leaned back.

It had been three days. Three days since he'd realised where Harry had gone. Three days since he'd rushed through the defenses to reach his sons side. Three days since his son had almost died in his arms.

His head came forward to rest in his upturned hands. He felt so stupid. He'd known that Quirrell was up to something. Hell, he'd threatened the man. Yet he hadn't known. Hadn't been there when his son needed him. It was his fault. He was the adult. He should have been there to help. And he had completely failed in his responsibility as a father.

Beside the potions master who was ensconced in a little pit of self-loathing, a certain green-eyed Slytherin was slowly becoming aware of the world again.

Harry blinked rapidly at the sudden increase in light. His eyes watered slightly at the faint burn the sunlight left him with. He went to lift his hand up to brush them away but felt as if his hand weighed a ton. He turned his head to the side, feeling the soft brush of a pillow on his cheek before his eyes focused on the man beside him.

"Dad..." he croaked, his voice hoarse.

He watched amusedly as the black-haired man jerked and his head flicked up, obsidian eyes meeting emerald for the first time in three days.

"Harry," he breathed, "Let me get you some water."

Severus quickly summoned the jug and a cup and carefully poured a full glass before repositioning Harry so that he could drink comfortably.

Harry drank the water eagerly, downing half the glass before his father pulled the drink away.

"Be careful Harry, you haven't eaten solid food in three days. It might make you sick." He smirked at the eleven year olds look of contempt.

"Dad!" Harry exclaimed, suddenly remembering, "What's happened to the stone. Please tell me you didn't give it to Dumbles."

Severus smirked, "No I didn't give it to the Headmaster. I sent it to back to Mr Nicholas Flamel. He told me quite a fascinating story about it, one I'm sure you'll want to know later."

Harry frowned and looked at the window opposite his bed. The light streaming in was a pale yellow.

"Is it morning already?" he asked, horrified to have passed out for so long.

Severus previous smirk broadened into a grin, "Yes it is morning. You're little adventure however, happened three days ago."

He paused to let the information sink in before Harry exploded.

"WHAT?!" The black haired boy spluttered before finding his voice again, "I missed exams! I've been working hard all year. I was going to be top of the class. What about transfiguration? I have a bet going with Minnie that I'll beat her score from first year. I can't do that now! Wait, what am I thinking? Screw exams, what about the others? Draco, Neville, Luna, Hermione; are they okay?"

Severus clapped his hand over Harry's mouth when it became clear he wasn't going to stop talking any time soon.

"Your friends are fine. Draco was healed within half an hour of entering the infirmary and none of the others were injured. You're the one they're all worried about. And I'm worried about you as well. Harry, you showed signs of nerve damage. What kind of spell did Quirrell put you under?"

Harry paused to think about it, shivering as he remembered the agonising pain.

"It was a spell, I didn't hear him say it but... it burned. It felt like someone was carefully shredding every one of my nerves into pieces and setting fire to my remains. I've never felt pain like it before. I thought the Dursley's were bad but," he shuddered, "this was something different."

Severus who, up until this point, had taken all the news fairly well, suddenly went very still and sat with his eyes closed, breathing through his mouth in an attempt to calm himself. It wasn't working.

Quirrell had cast the bloody CRUCIATUS curse on his son. His son had gone through unimaginable pain all because of him. He felt it when his grip on his angry magic slipped and quickly covered Harry and himself with a shield charm.

Every single one of the windows in the infirmary broke at once, flinging glass all over the stark, white room. The shards pattered against the shield as they hit, bouncing away and onto the floor. Severus held the charm until all the shrapnel had landed before silently casting a mass reparo to fix the shattered glass. As the windows pieced themselves together he looked down at his son who smirked up at him, although there was a hint of awe in his eyes.

"Nice control there, dad."

Albus Dumbledore's bearded jaw was unable to stop from dropping. 'Dad?'

This couldn't be right. Severus was meant to hate Harry. He was meant to see how similar Harry was to his father and to hate the boy's guts. That was what he was meant to do.

Dumbledore hadn't told anyone else of his plan. He wasn't stupid. They would call him cruel, delusional even. They didn't understand that it was necessary. For Harry to grow up with a strong sense of right and wrong, light and dark, good and evil. He wasn't meant to have a father figure, or any adult to trust in general. Dumbledore was going to be that person. He was meant to be Harry's mentor. He would mould Harry until the boy was willing to accept the burden of the magical world upon his shoulders. But the brat wasn't anything he'd expected.

First a Slytherin, friends with Draco Malfoy and the crazy girl from Ravenclaw, Lovegood. When he'd become friends with Granger and Neville he had some hope for the boy, but this hope was quickly squashed as he saw the attitude that the group directed towards the youngest Weasley boy.

Dumbledore frowned. He had hoped that Harry would become close friends with the Weasley family. Having the light family helping to steer him in the direction of the light would have been perfect for his plans.

And now this. This major kink in his design. He pondered the way Harry had said the word. It had been said with familiarity, with the air of someone who had said the words many times to this particular person. There was no hesitation, no slight pause to show that he wasn't completely sure about the title. It had slipped from his lips without the slightest thought. Automatic.

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes dimmed as his mouth was drawn into a deep frown. That one word had confirmed what he'd suspected.

Harry and Dumbledore were far closer than mere student and teacher, and had been for quite a while.

Feeling a sudden surge of righteous anger, Dumbledore drew himself up to his full, and rather impressive height before throwing the doors open and stalking through them, lilac robes billowing behind him.

Snape and Harry both turned their head towards the door at the sound, eyebrows arching in unison at the sight of the indignant Headmaster. Dumbledore stormed down the aisle until he reached the bed on which Harry lay, right next to Madam Pompfrey's office.

"I knew it!" He hissed angrily. Snape and Harry looked at him with blank expressions.

"You tricked me. You," Dumbledore said, pointing an accusing finger at the potions master, "kidnapped Harry from his relatives care. You took him knowing precisely why he needed to stay there. No wonder he was such good friends with MR Malfoy. You probably left him there didn't you? In the company of Malfoy's for Merlin's sake. And you Harry, how can you truly accept Severus as your father? What about your true father. He died to save you."

Harry rose slowly from under the swathes of linen, standing unsteadily on the stone floor until his father's hand came up to steady him.

"You, headmaster, have overstepped your bounds as both an educator and as a magical guardian. It is not your concern whether one student should spend the holidays with their relatives or with their legal," he was careful to stress the word, "guardian. Professor Snape is my father, whether you like it or not. He has legally adopted me and I am perfectly contented with that. What right do you have to complain when you didn't even realise I was gone? Did you ever even check up on me as you said you were doing? Did you ever once see me at my relatives?"

Dumbledore visibly deflated, "No I did not."

Harry nodded, "I am glad of that." Dumbledore looked questioningly at him.

"I'm glad, because otherwise I would be faced with the knowledge that you knew I was being abused and still left me there. At least this way I know you were simply an ignorant old man who thought that sharing blood with someone meant that they loved you. I envy your naivety."

Dumbledore spluttered at that, "You have no right to speak to me like that! I am your headmaster and as such you must show me respect."

Harry snorted, "I'm afraid it doesn't work like that Headmaster. My father taught me that someone must earn your respect; it should not be given freely."

Snape jumped into the conversation, "You see Headmaster, I know how your mind works and so I will warn you now. If you contest my guardianship, you will have the Malfoy family and all other seats held by former Slytherin's against you. House loyalty is an amazing thing isn't it? I know that Lucius has kept in touch with all his old house-mates and they are more than willing to do him a favour, especially against the notoriously biased Headmaster Dumbledore. You do recall my years at Hogwarts do you not Headmaster? It seems that many of my former house-mates were rather," he paused to think about his next choice of words, "upset about my treatment at the hands of the Gryffindors and you. I am a Slytherin, I will do anything to protect that which is worth my protection. And Harry is worth all the protection I have to offer."

Albus suddenly realised something, "You took the stone! Where did you take it? It should be destroyed!"

Severus smirked up at him, "I returned it to Mr Flamel of course. It's odd isn't it Headmaster that, when I asked him, he told me it had been taken. He'd been very worried that he'd never get it back. Mad isn't it? Perhaps, in light of that piece of information, you might realise that you are definitely not in the right position to be making threats."

Dumbledore paused, regarding the two set faces before him. He knew that, should he choose to do battle with the Slytherins, they would reveal every injustice he had ever committed against them.

The old man shook his weary head and turned to leave, at the doors of the infirmary he turned to the two once more.

"I am... disappointed."

The end of year feast was well under way by the time Harry managed to slip into place beside Draco, sighing disappointedly as he realised it was dessert already. The hall was bedecked in Slytherin colours, a giant tapestry of a silver snake hung behind the head table.

The Draco, noticing his best friend's arrival, quickly punched him in the arm and glared.

"You scared the crap out of me! Snape came back out of that chamber after I'd just woken up and you looked like you were dead you twit! What were you thinking almost dying? He should have almost died, not you!"

Harry heaped his plate with spoonfuls of berries, adding a dollop of whipped cream to the mound of fruit.

"He didn't need to almost die Drake, he's dead."

Draco paused with a spoonful of ice-cream half-way to his mouth.

"Sorry, he's what?" Harry considered it a testament to the element of surprise that Draco had actually forgotten his table manners for a moment.

"He's dead Draco. I managed to kill him."

Draco furrowed his brow, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

The two continued to eat and chat about random things before two Ravenclaw's and a Hufflepuff accosted them, forcing the people on either side to move as they seated themselves at the table.

"Harry we were all so worried!" Hermione gushed, crushing him in a sudden hug that left him gasping for breath.

Luna smiled serenely at him and said a simple, "Hello Harry. The snargalumpfs are in your hair again."

Harry grinned at her and, after extracting himself from Hermione's hug, wrapped the blonde in a tight hug, smiling when she quickly combed through his hair with her fingers.

Neville just smiled at him, an unsaid, 'Glad you didn't die!' coming from him.

Talk turned to exams and Harry was relieved to hear from Hermione that they had been cancelled as 'a school treat'. Harry understood completely, still frustrated that he hadn't even had the opportunity to try and beat darling Minnie in exams. Neville, on the other hand, was as happy as the rest of the school that exams were cancelled, saying, "I still get nervous when it comes to tests. Maybe next year I'll be brave enough."

Before long the desserts disappeared and the entire school turned to Dumbledore as the old man rose with his arms spread as if he wished to hug the entire school.

"Congratulations! We have finished another year at school. To those who are leaving; Good luck. You will need it as you move forward into the world. To those who are staying, work hard so that when you too leave this school, luck will be the only other thing you need. Now the house points stand thusly; Gryffindor in last place with 298 points, Hufflepuff in third with 367 points, Ravenclaw in second with 420 points and Slytherin win the house cup with a grand total of 480 points." The hall erupted into cheers, Slytherin clapping louder than the rest in pride of their house.

"However," Dumbledore called, "In light of recent events, I have more points to give out. To Mr Neville Longbottom, for outstanding work in repairing a dangerous plant and for true loyalty, I award Hufflepuff 50 points!" The yellow and black table broke into applause, some of the members making their way over to Neville at the Slytherin table to pat him on the back. To his friends' amusement, the black haired boy blushed crimson as two fifth year girls kissed him on each cheek before running back to their table.

Dumbledore waited until the cries died down before continuing, "To Ms Hermione Granger, for healing a friend and sending for help, I award Ravenclaw house 50 points." One of the tables in the middle repeated Hufflepuff's performance, only this time, two seventh year boys came to solemnly shake Hermione's hand.

"To Ms Luna Lovegood, for the cool use of logic in the face of fire, I award Ravenclaw 50 points!" Ravenclaw's were slightly more hesitant to approach Luna but soon enough, two of the seventh years came forward and shook both her hands at the same time, making the dreamy blonde girl giggle.

"Now," and the hall descended into silence, "To Mr Draco Malfoy, for the most exquisitely played game of chess that Hogwarts has ever seen, I award Slytherin 50 points!" Slytherin broke into applause and Draco looked up to the Head table to see his godfather nodding toward him, obviously proud.

"And finally, for bravery and strength, doing what had to be done to protect the students of this castle, I award 60 points, to Mr Harry Potter, of Slytherin."

The hall exploded, hearty cheers sounding from the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Most Gryffindors pouted at having lost the house competition by such a land slide however the Weasley twins were on their feet, cheering louder than anyone else in the hall.

"Congratulations again Slytherin. This makes the seventh year in a row."

Harry smiled up at his father.

Life was good.

And that's it! That's first year. Well pretty much. I've decided that there are some events I'd like to add and some chapter need revising so this will be edited and revised but none of the new stuff will change the storyline. It will merely add to it.

Please review. I know I don't deserve it but I'd like it.