Warnings: yaoi, drama, smex [later] creature!Harry, Severtius, bashing!

Rated: T [for now]

Author: Lisa Kritzinger, penname, lisa . demonic . angel

Also, thanks to Penoix who pointed out a mistake with Harry's true name in this and the next chapter.

It was a head… now a chest and arms… the torso of Cedric Diggory.

If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken, even though the thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory (was it a ghost? it looked so solid) emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort s wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel… and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke.

"Hold on. Harry," it said.

Its voice was distant and echoing. Harry looked at Voldemort… his wide red eyes were still shocked… he had no more expected this than Harry had… and, very dimly Harry heard the frightened yells of the Death Eaters, prowling around the edges of the golden dome… More screams of pain from the wand… and then something else emerged from its tip… the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso… an old man Harry had seen only in a dream was now pushing himself out of the end of the wand just as Cedric had done… and his ghost, or his shadow, or whatever it was, fell next to Cedric's, and surveyed Harry and Voldemort, and the golden web, and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning on his walking stick…

"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, his eyes on Voldemort. "Killed me, that one did… You fight him, boy…"

But already, yet another head was emerging… and this head, gray as a smoky statue, was a woman's… Harry, both arms shaking now as he fought to keep his wand still, saw her drop to the ground and straighten up like the others, staring…

The shadow of Bertha Jorkins surveyed the battle before her with wide eyes.

"Don't let go, now!" she cried, and her voice echoed like Cedrics as though from very far away. "Don't let him get you, Harry - don't let go!

She and the other two shadowy figures began to pace around the inner walls of the golden web, while the Death Eaters flitted around the outside of it… and Voldemort's dead victims whispered as they circled the duelers, whispered words of encouragement to Harry, and hissed words Harry couldn't hear to Voldemort. And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemorts wand… and Harry knew when he saw it who it would be… he knew, as though he had expected it from the moment when Cedric had appeared from the wand… knew, because the man appearing was the one he'd thought of more than any other tonight…

The smoky shadow of a tall man with untidy hair fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened up, and looked at him… and Harry, his arms shaking madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of his father.

"Your mother's coming…" he said quietly. "She wants to see you…needs to speak to you… it will be all right… hold on…"

And she came… first her head, then her body… a young woman with long hair, the smoky, shadowy form of Lily Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like her husband. She walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and she spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear…

"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments… but we will give you time… you must get to the Portkey, it will return…" his mother looked at him for a moment, before stepping even closer, Harry noticed the eyes of his father turn… sad… but he gave a firm nod and turned back to voldemort. "Harry, you need to go to grengotts, speak to the goblins and ask for entrance to the blood voult. They will understand, but you cannot tell anyone… not until you have found out… do you understand, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on his wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath his fingers.

"Harry…" whispered the figure of Cedric, "take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents…"

"I will," said Harry, his face screwed up with the effort of holding the wand.

"please don't hate us," whispered his father's voice, "do it now…"


Harry shot up in bed, eyes wide and terrified. He looked around his room before calming, ignoring the traces of nightmare still clinging to his mind.

The holiday had passed with little event, Harry had been obsessed with finding Voldemort in the papers at the start of the holidays, but after a while he really looked at things; how none of his friends wrote properly to him, how he seemed to be followed every time he went out of the house – except on Tuesdays, some drunk (by the smell of the invisible watcher) that always appeared after nine and apperrated away again a few minutes later – and how he had almost been attacked by dementors a few days ago. He had run, deciding that with the way the media was harping on about him lately, even protecting himself would be stupid. No one would believe him anyway, he was just an attention seeking liar now days. He hadn't even bothered to tell his godfather, and had owl ordered a little charm that repelled dementors; expensive, but worth it.

It was now a week before his birthday and he knew today was the day his relatives wanted him out of the house, for the whole damn day; Harry was ecstatic, it meant he could go to Gringotts without worrying about his uncle beating him about his disappearance, not to mention it was Tuesday so he didn't have to worry about his little 'followers' reporting back to Dumbledore; he didn't know why, but he was starting to doubt the man.

He was going to hail the night bus, get a lift to Diagon ally, and find out what it was his parents wanted of him – that last sentence from his father still confused him, muddled with his mind; why on earth would he hate them?

Harry sat up, looking at the old beat up alarm clock he'd fixed in his second year, looking at the stubs that used to be arms as they barely pointed out the time.

It was now five past four, and he knew his relatives would be up earlier today and therefore, he had to wake up even earlier. He got out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans and one of his many oversized top; strangely enough, he was grateful for the over large shirts, as he felt as if he was growing… well, only his back, that was, not to mention it ached like a bitch.

Deciding not to worry about it – he had read about creature inheritance that either happen at 15, 16, or 17, depending on how powerful the witch or wizard was. Harry snorted; another reason to ogle him for something he had no control over. Harry hadn't told his friends though. Hermione he knew would want to know everything, even what he didn't know and it would get to the point of 'studying' him. He didn't want that, yet he knew she would do that.

And Ron… Harry saw to looks of utter disgust and revolution and hate on Ron's face whenever he looked at Hagrid and thought no-one was looking; but Harry was always watching his friends, having grown up were family beat him and friends were nonexistent, so he always had to watch his back.

Harry sighed, brushing his now just-past-the-shoulders length hair out of his face; he had decided to grow it, and boy did it grow… Harry sighed again, confusion furrowing his brow; he had been watching his friends extra close this year, and couldn't help but notice… everything seemed forced; the smiles, the hugs, hell so much looked forced, but he didn't understand, it was like he was missing a rather huge part of the puzzle, and therefore the answer just continued to tease him.

With another frustrated sigh, Harry pushed his greasy hair – the Dursleys never let him wash it since he'd started to grow it out, hell he wasn't even allowed to look in the mirror – back from his face and went downstairs, doing the dishes and readying breakfast for his family. He didn't dare touch anything for himself, as aunt Petunia kept stock of every bread crumb they owned, and whenever something went missing, he was to blame and uncle Vernon would give him a sound beating for 'stealing when they already gave so much'. It didn't matter that it wasn't him, it was his fault anyway.

After finishing the food, for the Dursleys, Harry cast mild wandless warming charm to not anger his relatives with cold food – praying that they never found out as he would surly die if they found out 'freakishness' was as advanced as it was – and rushed upstairs, grabbing his bag and headed out, just as he heard the first stirrings of his relatives.

He went out, going to the abandoned playground near the end of the block knowing parents never allowed the kid there and knowing he was safe to call the knight bus from there.

He pulled out his want and simply held it out, watching as the massive purple bus seemed to come out of nowhere. Stan, the same pimply boy from last time, jumped down and gave his rather monotone speech of welcome. When he was done he looked at Harry as if waiting for something; after Harry did nothing but hold out his money the older teen seemed frustrated.

"Well, wha's you name then?" he asked flippantly.

Harry stared for a moment when it hit him; whatever was happening to him must be changing his features too – it would definitely explain all the extra beating he was getting.

"Dopper." Harry finally said, and ignored Stan as the boy spluttered, as if shocked he would be so against giving 'his' full name.

"we'l th'n missta Dopper, we'll be at Diagon in a moment, your our first customer today."

And with that, the bus was on the move, sending Harry to the floor along with his rather plush chair. It only took a few minutes, and then Harry was gladly getting off the bus, ignoring Stan as he went through the Leaky Cauldron, glad that no-one recognized him.

He went through the motions, walked through the wall and carried on down the road, glad that he was for once anonymous; he saw Hagrid going into Knockturn Ally, saw Mrs. Wealsey buying supplies and the sort – he wondered briefly if Mr. Wealsey had had a raise, as Mrs. Wealsey didn't seem bothered by the shops expensive prices – and he saw Mr. Malfoy give his wife a swift kiss, not meant to be seen as he handed her a small jewelry box.

Harry had always noticed these things that most people overlooked, but always kept quiet and followed the behavior of an impulsive fool; it helped keep the already overflowing attention at bay, not giving others a reason to look at him and watch him even more than he already was.

He entered the bank, giving the goblin at the door a respectful nod and carried on inside. He went to the nearest empty teller – there were quite a few, it was still rather early – and waited to be acknowledged. The goblin at work seemed quiet surprised that he hadn't demanded attention like the few wizards and witches around him seemed quiet fond of doing with their tellers.

"May I help you sir?" the goblin rumbled in his gravelly voice and Harry nodded with a slight bow.

"I'm here to see whoever is in charge of the Potter vault. Here is my key." Harry said quietly, not wanting attention and glad when all the teller did was nod. The goblin called another goblin – Griphook, the same goblin as the first time Harry had been there – and bid Harry to follow him, which Harry did without a word. They went into one of the many doors around the hall, Harry noticing that the marble continued here as it didn't on the way to the vaults and the two went to a door with a gold pate on it, reading Rumblenick.

Griphook spoke then. "Mr. Potter, this is your manager, the goblin who oversees the Potter vaults."

"Thank you Griphook… wait, vaults?" he started, as the door opened and an elderly goblin looked him up and down, raising a fluffy white brow as he heard Harrys question.

"Yes, Mr. Potter," he drawled in a pleasantly scratchy voice as he looked over a seemingly surprised younger goblin. "Vaults. We were going to send you another summons, as your last three were ignored."

Summons? Harry thought with surprise, and started his confusion.

"I haven't received any summons at all Mr. Rumblenick." Harry said politely, following the elderly goblin into the room. "And I came here to ask about my mother's blood vault."

"Is that so?" the goblin frowned, pulling out a stack of papers and putting them onto the desk. "We will have to look into that." He muttered before looking Harry squarely in the eye with his bottomless black gaze. "the reason we have summoned you, Mr. Potter, is because you have yet to sign documents concerning your many vaults, despite the fact that you seem to be working with quite a few other vault already and-"

"I'm sorry sir, but the only vault I have been aware of and even drawn from is my trust fund; I have had no knowledge of any other vaults nor done any business with other vaults."

The goblin looked at him sharply. "impossible, Mr. Potter, as we have been sending you missives since your eleventh birthday, and have had consent from your guardian." He took a moment to write something on a stack of parchment that burst into flames and then stood.

"When we get back Mr. Potter, we will study all dealings that you have had over the past five years. For now, let us go to the blood vault."

Harry nodded, not liking the sound of this 'guardian' and all he had supposedly done. He followed the goblin a surprisingly short distance to a door that led to a long, dark staircase.

"Only one of blood can enter the correct vault, all you do is descend the stairs and you will be led to the vault."

Harry gulped, slowly going down the stairs as the darkness swallowed him, seeming to drag him down and into the black void of bitter air. He felt like he had been going on for ages, when he stumbled, having expected another step only to meet flat ground; he hesitated for only a moment, before tentatively stepping forward, making sure it was not just another step, only larger.

As he slid his foot forward, a torch to his left sprang to life, illuminating the wall; he gasped as he saw the image – it was his mother, holding a rose. As he watched the rose petals started to fall and an invisible wind seemed to carry them along the wall, torches springing to life as the petals flouted under them, until the whole wall was illuminated; but the petals carried on, moving to the still dark floor, where a flame burst to life, seeming to follow the petals as they spiraled around the floor, creating a spiral of flame, leading to a raised dial in the center of the room.

Harry could only watch, eyes going to his mother again; she smiled softly at him, almost sadly, and pointed to the dial with a nod of her head. Harry stepped forward, being careful not to step on the still moving painted petals or the spiraling flame. He stopped at the dial, seeing nothing but a blood red rose. He looked around, seeing his mother's expectant eyes on him, and picked up the rose…

Only to drop it again with a hiss, seeing blood swell on his palm and fall down onto the rose; as if the flames had been waiting for this, the fire sprang into action again, spiraling up the dial and Harry could only watch in stunned disbelief as the rose flouted up, burning brightly. He watched the rose until the fire burned out, leaving a now blackened rose. Harry tentatively reached out, touching the charred rose with a single trembling finger.

The rose disintegrated, ash flouting to the petals painted on the floor, were they touched the first petal in reach; it was as if a switch had been hit, and all the rose petals froze in place. Harry watch, the petals freezing until they reached the rose in his mother's hand. There the rose hardened, and Harry gasped as the rose turned into a door knob, and his mother froze in place, silent eyes watching him in a frozen moment of time.

Almost shyly, Harry walked over to the now still painting, sad that the life was gone, and grasped the handle. He pulled and wasn't surprised when it easily gave, opening to reveal a safe.

Inside were a box, a book, and two envelopes. He slowly took the envelopes, and was surprised to see not only his name… but Severus Snape's name as well.

He tucked his potion masters letter in his back pocket, gently breaking the seal on his own letter and felt warmth spread through him as he was greeted by the beautiful red script.

My dearest Hadrion

I can only imagine how old you are right now, but old enough to know the truth is for sure. I hope you can forgive us for keeping this from you, but James and I had planned to tell you on the day you reached your creature inheritance; for we knew you needed your father to get through this.

You may wonder at that, and the truth is, James Potter is not your father.

Harry stared at the line in shock. James Potter wasn't his father? How could that be? Impossible! He looked just like the man, everyone knew that… except… lately he looked nothing like James, if he looked at it like that… he looked down at the letter again, eyes wide.

I know you are shocked, and it's hard not to be; but you see, I had to hide, I had to hide you to protect your father, the man he was serving – had been forced to serve by someone I once trusted dearly, but we'll get to that now – and I went to a close friend, James. James did a ritual that, although not making you his blood, made you look like him until your inheritance and legally made you his heir. We knew that the man we once trusted was up to something, and so kept this a secret.

We hope you can forgive us for keeping you from your father, but he couldn't know.

If you have met him, then I apologize now for how he will have treated you; after all, I am his soul mate, and how would you react if the other half of your soul betrayed you and seemingly bore your tormenters – James was cruel during school, and I have yet to forgive him for the horrors he put your father through, along with Remus and Sirius and Peter – son. Honestly Harry, how would you feel?

And now, your father's name is Severus Tobias Snape.

Harry stared at the name in shock; many people though he hated his potions master, but he had always been grateful at the honest emotions of the man, even if they were negative and he didn't know why he was hated. He had spent ten years of his life not knowing why his relatives wanted him dead after all, what was it to him why he was hated?

And the worst was he could not fault the man, as how was he meant to blame a man for acting on a broken heart.

I hope you find him, and make sure you give him the letter as well, it will tell him everything, and hopefully you can forgive him if he has wronged you, for he will feel enough guilt for hating me and possibly you without you rubbing it in his face.

Sorry if I snap, my child, but I fear Dumbledore put you with my sister's family, and if so, I knew it.

Albus Dumbledore cannot be trusted; he is a manipulative bastard who puts shame to the 'light side' as he uses as many if not more dark magic that Voldemort. Now know, dark is not evil, but how you use magic that makes a person good or bad. Albus is bad!

Please be careful, and read our will, we have sealed it so only your blood can open it. And it has to be freely given with every intent of your own to work.

I love you my son, and forgive me.

Lily Anne Snape.

Harry stared at the paper in shock, before sighing; everything seemed to happen to him. He tucked the letter away, taking the book and the box out as well before closing the safe. His mother's painting was awake again, and smiled at him.

"I have waited so long for you, and now I can sleep soundly. I love you Harry." She whispered to him, and froze again, all magic leaving her and spiraling into Harry, filling Harry with a sad love. He felt tears stream from his eyes, and walked up the stairs in silence, surprised when it took him only two steps before he was in the goblins office again and took a seat, looking at Rumblenick.

He handed Harry the stack of papers, and he read through them; he was shocked at what he had found – a hefty sum of his money had been taken every year since before his first year and put into five vaults, one to Mrs. Molly Wealsey, Ron Wealsey, Ginny Wealsey and Hermione Granger and also to a muggle vault that belonged to his relatives, along with an even larger sum being taken at random times over the years and put into the Hogwarts headmasters vault. He was also disgusted to find a marriage contract between him and Ginny that had been made after first year. He looked up at the goblin, furious.

"sadly to say, Mr. Rumblenick, but I have consented none of these, and would like to see the will that has been mentioned in these files as well as to know who my 'guardian' is and also have to ask how to retrieve my money and destroy this marriage contract."

The goblin looked surprised, and then Harry saw fury seep into the goblins eyes. He pulled out a scroll, which Harry could see held a magical seal and handed it over. "Only you can open this, as stated in your mothers much simpler will. Her will simply said that only your blood may open this will."

Harry nodded, already knowing that, and took the will; he was rather surprised to see it already spotted with blood, and looked up at Rumblenick enquiringly.

The goblin seemed amused.

"Albus Dumbledore arrived with a vial of your blood hours after your mothers will was red, stating that as your guardian he had required your blood and attempted to open the will. He was rather frustrated when it still would not open."

Harry shared a small smile with the goblin before pulling at the cut in his palm from the rose, and waited until a tiny drop was visible, smearing it onto the parchment.

Instantaneously, the scroll unrolled, opening into his lap. He looked at the parchment before reading.

I, James Andrew Potter hereby name Hadrion Tobias Snape, my sole heir through the blood adoption ritual Sanguinem Perfecta, so mote it be.

All estate and vaults belonging to the Potter family now belong to Hadrion Tobias Snape and at the reading of the following will, Hadrion Tobias Snape will be emancipated from the Ministry of Magic by binding blood magicks.

Hadrion Tobias Snape will put in the legal guardianship of Lucius Malfoy, spy of the light to dark lord Voldemort. Any transactions not consented by Lucius Malfoy before the emancipation of Hadrion Tobias Snape will be illegal and retracted immediately.

If the Potter heir consents, the following will be receiving money and properties.

To Remus John Lupin, 10000 gallons and the Potter family home in France will be given.

To Sirius black the family home in Ireland and partial guardianship of the Potter heir, and though he was not the secret keeper, we loved him dearly.

To Peter Pettigrew; if this is being read while he is secret keeper, I hope he rots in hell for betraying us, which he obviously did as we have yet to change the will.

To Severus Tobias Snape, 15000 gallons and the right to access the Potter vaults and all potions stores owned by the Potter family.

To Lucius Malfoy, the Potter veela vault.

As it has been done, so mote it be.

Harry stared at the will, a slow evil smile spreading across his face. The whole issue of getting his money back and getting Albus off his back as a guardian was taken care of, as well as his godfathers freedom, he'd have to have the will read soon. He looked up at the goblin and smiled.

"I would like to postpone the official reading of this will until I have my father's consent, but also I was wondering if there is any way to receive missives and summons and the such without own post?"

"Yes Mr. Potter-"

"Snape." Harry cut in quietly, looking at his hands. "It's Mr. Snape."

All was silent for a moment, and then the goblin snorted delicately, causing Harry to look up.

"You seem to be a magnet for the excitement in life, aren't you Mr. Snape?"

Harry laughed, and was handed a small box. "That is a direct link from us to you; you will be receiving your mail from us through there now. Have a good day Mr. Snape."

Harry got back to the Dursleys an hour later, a shrunken bag that would regrow to its original size when he gave the password tucked safely in his sock, so not to have his uncle confiscate and destroy everything. He snuck upstairs and lay on his bed, carful of his tender back.

He pulled out the book from the blood safe and saw a half bat/dragon half human staring at him from the cover, wings spread and tail swishing across the cover.

The blood book of HydraIgnas
beings of the dragon blood.

Harry looked at the book in confusion, when it dawned on him… he was a HydraIgnas…

How the hell was he meant to hide that from his relatives?

Okay, that's the first chapter; this is mainly FAMILY and drama – meaning, romance, humor, angst, horror, porn, hell anything you can expect a newly fledged [though 15 years late] father and his teenage sub son [yes this is an uke!Harry story] can possibly go though in a magical school while you're a bloody winged thingy. Should be fun! But who should I put Harry with? Not Ron. As you might have noticed, this is slight Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, Ginny bashing. I don't know why, but Ron has always ticked me off and so has Ginny but Dumbledore is suddenly one of my not so favs as well as Hermy… sometimes… yeah… REVIEW PLEASE! Also… yaoi!