A/N : Ok this story starts off pretty badly (not that it still isn't) written but as I get into it, it gets a bit better.

Also there is quite a bit of discussion about psychopathy, Tom Riddle, and Harry Potter in this chapter, so if that's ur thing!?

I tried to outline a morally grey Harry/ borderline anti-social personality disorder. But teachers perceived him differently.

I also never see enough comparison between Tom and Harry on the emotional level, I see how their looks and how their situations are similar but never how different they are at the core of who they are. So we will see how that goesssss.

Severus glared at the remaining students sprinting up the stairs. He would rather be in his lab, but now that it was required of all staff that had children in late detention to escort them at least partially out of their class, he was not.

It was nearing the 5th month mark since the first appearance of The Figure and miraculously no one had gotten their souls taken, which Severus found quiet impressive. He was sure, someone, probably a foolhardy Gryffindor, would have taken it upon themselves to rid their school of the monster. But, it seems that most students still ended up nearly pissing themselves when they found themselves in the company of The Figure, and that apparently encompassed the Gryffindor population as well.

As the last student disappeared up the flight of stairs, he unclenched his teeth which were beginning to ache and made his way back to his classroom, his shoes clicking on the stone the only sound in the cold hallway.

The hallways seemed cooler than normal since the start of the year, the Dungeon is such a hotspot for the creature, the cold it brought with its appearance lingered beyond its departure.

Yet even with all the student's sightings and high profile in his Dudgeon Severus has yet to come across it.

None of his colleagues besides Hagrid, who had a unnatural aptitude for dark creatures, had physically seen the creature. Severus thought a couple times he caught movement out the corner of his eye but every time he turned, it would be gone.

He was frustrated, it avoided teachers and adults like the plague, and only often visited the big oaf during the day when other teachers weren't around. The mystery that surrounded the lone dementor, Severus wanted to solve. No one know how dementor's were created, and morbidly he began to think that maybe it was a witch or wizard that had died in the battle for Hogwarts and stuck around; one that had practiced the wrong kind of dark magic and tainted their soul with the black arts enough to mutate it. So that when they died, the mutated soul became…this.

This hypothesis came to him one Saturday when he got the chance to slip away to Knockturn alley to search for books on dementor's and black magics. Which books were rare and on short supply, as they were usually held close to the owner and their family.

The books he found explained the effects of working with the blackest and darkest of magics and what it did to the body and soul. It warned about rituals that if done incorrectly would melt the skin off and remove the soul leaving it forever unable to pass on. Some briefly touched on spells that worked in a similar to the way the Avada Kedavra could be used to split the soul, but instead of ripping it apart it, the black magick added to it and twisted the soul. Turning the human soul an abomination. The fate of the souls after death were not documented.

Severus didn't particularly enjoy thinking about that possibility but as time went on, with that the nature of the dementor it seemed to make sense and that possibility became more likely.

The dementor, Hagrid insisted its name was 'Puppy', seemed to prefer to spend its time with the half-giant than inside the school. Which made him think that it was not a death eater or Slytherin, who divulged in the arts, but if not them, then what kind of person would practice such inhumane acts.

Assuming his hypothesis was correct, he did not know.

Entering his classroom the first thing he noticed was the temperature and the small cloud that formed in front of his face when he breathed.

Reaching for his wand, he glanced analytically around the room. He could see nothing but that didn't mean nothing was there. Gripping the familiar piece of wood in his hand, his eyes flicked over to a barely open potion storage closet.

He wouldn't have noticed the door open if he didn't meticulously check that it was locked firmly every time he stepped out of the room. He wouldn't have any students stealing from him, remembering Potter and his friends getting past him still made him grind his teeth.

Holding his wand out in front of him, he made his way over to the side room, trying to peer between the crack of the door. He could see nothing in the little room from where he stood, with a firm hand, he grasped the bronze door nob and pulled it open in one smooth sweep.

Severus watched almost in slow motion, as his action startled the creature, the little screeching sound it made was nearly as sharp as the sound of the beaker shattering on the ground. Starring at it, it looked about as started as he was. With sloth-like motions the creatures drew it's lanky arms in close to its body and began to float further into the storage room.

Without taking his eyes off the hooded face, the potions teacher flicked his wand at the mess, wordlessly banishing the glass and the spilled draught of peace. "If you wish to snoop through my belongings, be sure not to make a mess." He snapped, taking the time to even out his breathing he didn't realize had sped up.

It seems that he is the seconded teacher to gain the company of the dementor, so if the creature was going to stick it's decrepit hands into his things, and Hagrid assured him it would, then rules were going to be made clear. Unlike Hagrid, he wasn't going to allow the thing to do whatever it liked in his potions labs.

The dementor looked awkward floating there in the small room, its torn black robe bunching up on the floor and around it's elbows. Making it look like a scorned child caught wearing its parent's cloth's. It almost made him snort at the ridiculous comparison (almost ridiculous because it might be a child).

"Come now, out!" He barked at the creature as he stepped away out from the doorframe and into the classroom once more. The cold chill that brushed his ankles and neck told him that the dementor was following him out. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that it was indeed behind him. Still in that dejected position.

Slipping his wand back into his robe pocket he turned and fixed a glare on the creature. "If you are to live up to your name and stick your filthy paws on my work I would suggest you don't. I have many dangerous things in here that would be troublesome if they got into your hands." He felt like he was talking to an undisciplined child (you might be), and he wasn't even sure it understood what he was saying.

However, it did seem to comprehend what he had said because it glanced around and with a hesitant gesture pointed at a cauldron sitting on a students table.

"Those you may touch." He nodded, "as long as there is nothing in them."

At his go ahead it gently glided over to the black pot and looked at it from under its hood before running a thin finger along the top.

Severus wondered what the student would do if he told him what had touched his cauldron.

After a few minutes of watching 'Puppy' poke around the student's table, he went to sit at his own desk.

For the next hour, his classroom entertained the curious dementor under the watchful eye of the professor, adding more and more questions to his many unanswered ones until it simply turned and floated its way out the door.

Breakfast the next morning was an affair as per usual, he found out that after the creature had left his room, it went onto scaring two Hufflepuffs who thought it was a great time to go down the kitchens.

Events like that were rare nowadays, that was one plus to the children being too scared to leave their dorms at any time past 7pm, the drastic drop in children out of bed. That meant less patrols and less chasing down stupid brats in the dead of night. Even the prefects were too afraid to do their rounds before bed. The dementor did their job for them.

Nearing the end of the meal Severus gave Minerva the look she knew means that they needed to talk. With a nod she silently agreed.

"Severus, what did you need?" She asked immediately after they entered her office, waving her hand indicating they should sit.

'Ah, straight forward as always.' "Last night for about an hours time, my classroom entertained our, illusive guest."

Minerva seemed much more interested in the what he had to say now. "Did anything happen?"

"Besides breaking a beaker full of drought of peace and taking apart a students potion kit, no, like as the half giant said it does appear to seem curious."

When the headmistress looked him in the eye, it felt like she was looking into his mind and peeling back all his occlumency barriers. "Hmm, but there is something else you wanted to talk about as well?" Sometimes he doubted her when she said that she didn't know legilimency or maybe she had her own kind?

Severus hummed. "I, had a theory about the nature of the dementor." He wasn't going to confirm nor deny the truth of his theory, even though he was sure that it held some weight with all the evidence. "After I knew the classification of the creature, I found it odd. Since dementors have not been able to get through the school wards since the war, how could have this one have?"

The older women seemed to have sensed the tenseness in his voice and sat up straighter and asked. "Are you saying you suggesting it's been here the whole time? Since the war?" An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

He gave a short nod, "Possibly, or that it just had not formed until recently."

Minerva gave him an incredulous look. "It is unknown how dementor's are born, how is it that one would have been 'formed' inside Hogwarts?"

At this the potions master pressed his lips, and linked his hands in front of him. "We all know some magicks are poisonous to the soul, especially soul magicks and black magicks. Certain spells and rituals are also known to mutate the soul. Thou there are no proper studies to know the extent of mutations that can occur or the effects." He paused. "Though through, extensive use of this kind of magick, I question what would happen if a soul had mutated irreparably, even after death of the body, that it is damaged enough to not be able to move on from this plane of existence."

It was a horrible theory, and Minerva's eyes were wide. "Severus…" Mouth working uselessly.

"While I was observing the creature yesterday, I talked to it, and it understood the meaning of the words I was saying and listened. It grasped the vials in the way I teach 3 third years, and it's hands were steady picking up the students belongings as if it were aware of what they meant, not like some mindless ogre simply sateing its curiosity."

The headmistresses shaking hands covered her mouth now as she looked at him in horror.

"Now I cannot confirm my theory unless it somehow shows us who it used to be, but I cannot dismiss it either. There is too much evidence to ignore."

The silence was heavy, and Minerva sat still, all of the information swirling around in her mind.

Gradually she gained some of her composure back, but the crackling in her voice still betrayed her calm face. "If it is as you think, do you have any guesses as to who it is?"

He scoffed. "Minerva, many died during that battle, it would be impossible to guess." He paused watching the women's face carefully. " But we can make some assumptions. Based on how docile it is, I doubt it is a death eater, even though they would be the most likely candidate with the kind of black magic available to them. It could possibly have been one of my snakes, we are known for having students that dabble around the dark arts but the amount of time it spends with the half giant. I know of no Slytherin that wouldn't rather have their hand lobbed off than spend an extra willing moment in his presents."

A watery half smile graced her face, it was bad attempt at lightening the mood, but he tried. "They would have." Blood purists, the lot of them.

"Did you know of any students that spent a considerable amount of time with the oaf to consider themselves, acquaintances? Possibly enough time that their soul would have sought him out when in distress?"

Regretfully she did not spend a lot of time with Hagrid, only at the great hall when they ate, and before the war even less so. With him not being a full-time teacher until recently she knew very little about him and those who he spent time with. "I don't know Hagrid well enough to tell you that Severus, you are going to have to ask yourself."

He feared that's what she would say.

"Very well." and he moved to stand but a hand gripped the sleeve of his robe from over the table.

"What do we do, if what you think is true?" She sounded lost, though to an untrained ear you wouldn't have noticed.

Severus sighed. "Nothing, what is done is done. There is nothing we can do."

Defeated, she let go of the black fabric and sat back in the armchair. She didn't even hear her deputy leave as she mulled over the information.

It was so wrong, even the possibility that there was a human soul inside of those creatures.

Her mind brought up images of the war, all the dementor's covering the sky as they descended on a war-torn Hogwarts, the soulless bodies of students tossed across the courtyard like forgotten toys. That was probably done by horribly mutated souls of HUMANS. Humans that had practiced some of their world's most unforgivable magic but humans none the less, and that made her wonder why this one was so different.

Severus had guessed it was the soul of a student, not one from Slytherin but from a different house. Ravenclaw was her next guess, they had they brains to find the resources, but why? If the person had sought out the magic and used it, why not turn out like the other dementors. The kind of person to search out that certain magick were people like Riddle and Carrow, psychopathic and blood thirsty, becoming a dementor would not change them in the least.

As far as she remembered, there was no one who stuck up as that, and people like that did stick out. You could pick them out in a group, they were different from everybody else, not in the way that they looked different, but that they couldn't be the same as anyone else. They thought they fit it, because they acted like they did, but everyone could see it. It was in the eyes, that lack of emotional comprehension and connection, that look they get on their face when people talk about love and compassion; like they're disguised at the mere thought of interacting with a human being without the intention of making them suffer.

Those types of people are cold and disconnected, act like everyone is stupid and oblivious and when they get caught, well, they must have slipped up because how could someone see through their perfect disguise. Riddle had thought the only person who noticed his discrepancies was Dumbledore, but no. Everyone knew, besides the few teachers that were enamored with his charm. When Tom and his gang weren't around, people talked. They talked a lot. Stories of the curses Tom had thrown around when he was mad and what he had said were tossed around the 3 houses like a quiditch ball on fire. No one ever talked about it outside the safety of the house walls because it was kept secret; as if it was some terrible inside joke that the Slytherins weren't allowed to be a part of. And the consequences of letting that joke slip… no one felt like joining Murtle.

No one stood out as a Riddle in the years leading up to the war, she would have remembered.

But again, an evil voice in her mind whispered the name, Harry Potter.

She rubbed at her forehead and put her head in her hands. Harry Potter. When she first met the 11-year-old with the bright green eyes and black hair, her first thought had been young Tom Riddle. Those cold green eyes staring at her from behind those small circles of glass, clothes 4 sizes too big hanging off his near emaciated body, and the acting he did while around teachers was on par with Riddles skills. Those stony smiles he offered teachers gave her an awful nostalgic feeling and for a while, she did indeed think he was going to be another Lord Voldemort.

Until she saw him a couple weeks later with the Weasley and a bushy haired muggle born girl. The smiles he had were a bit lopsided but genuine, not the practiced porcelain one's young Tom had. He still didn't seem to be emotionally on par with the other kids his age but he wasn't a Tom. That was the important part to her.

Though throughout the years, he had a few times where he made her question her assessment of him. The first time being the end of his first year, right after the stone business. She had listened to Dumbledore explain what had happened down in the tunnel, Harry had killed Quirell in self-defence after the possessed teacher attacked him, burning off the man's skin with his bare hands.

At first, she had been appalled that he had been placed in that situation in the first place, then by the fact he wasn't offered any support after. Watching someone burn to death right before your eyes was surely a traumatic experience, especially for an 11-year-old.

The next day when she was going to confront Harry, she observed him laughing with his friends. Seemingly unbothered by the death of his professor, she continued to observe him through the day, but he showed no signs of the event even taking place. If she hadn't been told, she would have never known this little boy was a murderer.

Small events continued to shake her confidence in him but the one time in his supposed to be 6th year when he successfully casted the Cruciatus Curse. Carrow had just spat in her face, when the next thing she saw was him screaming and withering in the air in pure agony before being thrown into the bookshelf with a crunch and falling to the floor, motionless. She had stared at Harry in shock before yelling at him, but she remembered this confused look on his face, like he didn't comprehend what he did was wrong and said "But he spat on you."

It was so simple, like it justified inflicting unimaginable pain onto someone but it stopped her from saying anything else.

She never thought him capable or able to learn black magic though, no. Harry Potter was strictly watched, the books he took out monitored and where he spent his time over summer was documented. There was no place he went that they didn't know about, which made her wonder when he was able to learn and practice the Cruciatus curse, because she refused to believe that was his first time casting.

Sitting in her chair she pondered these things, for months, after Dumbledores death Harry Potter and his friends disappeared on a mission the old headmaster had assigned them. Could he have possibly learned black magick in that time period, with his friends around and as a wanted criminal? Or were they apart of it? It was a hard time for everybody, he could have felt like it was the only way.

But Harry Potter was dead (she hoped) there was no way to ask him, but his friends weren't. They were married now, with one child. She would have to ask them, but was it right for her to pull up such terrible memories of their deceased best friend? It had been heart breaking when they admitted to omitting having a best man and women because they had planned for Harry to have been both and it hadn't felt right having anyone but Harry there.

But there was that ache in her chest that told her she need to find out the answers'.

She decided that she would wait for Severus to come back with what Hagrid said and they could go from there.

Closing her eye's and letting out a shaky breath, she leaned her forehead into her arms. Just when she thought the war was in the past, in seemed to dig itself up from its 6-year grave.

As soon as Severus left Minerva's office he headed for the grounds.

He discovered that whenever he found himself doing extra laps around the school, the cause was the dementor.

Huffing slightly he crossed the courtyard, making an effort to keep a distance between himself and the groups of students spending their Sunday afternoon outside.

Standing on the crooked wooden steps of the half-breeds hut, he raised his arm and knocked firmly on the door. With a crash, and a few thundering footsteps the door opened and he was greeted with a large, enthusiastic grin and Severus groaned internally.

"Ah, proffeso'r Snape!" The cheerfulness made the man want to cringe. "What can I be doin' fer ye?"

"Good afternoon Hagrid." He returned politely.

The giant seemed to take to the polite greeting as a good sign and waved the younger professor in. "Come in, an sit down. What is it you be need'n?"

Entering the small hut, Severus choose to sit in a large wooden chair by the window. Briefly he thought about how his feet no longer touched the floor but ignored it by crossing his legs and propping one foot on a bar under the chair.

"Minerva and I have come to a conundrum that required us to know who you spent your time with before the war ended." He decided that was a good way to ask, politely and with little personal connection.

Hagrid's smile looked a lot more strained now. "If ye don't mind me ask'n proffesser, why do ya be need'n ta know that?"

"Nothing is known for certain yet but if it is you will be the first to be told." No, he did not want to tell the oaf yet. If he did, complication might arise from the half-giants overly large heart if things went south.

"Alright, I trust ye." Snape let out an unnoticeable sigh of relief. "Not many visit'd me down 'ere, only 'Arry, Ron, an E'rmione did durin' their' time, a few Hufflepuff's an Ravenclaw's came after class's sumtimes fer tea or fer 'elp on som'tin." Hagrid told.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "No one else? Any Slytherins spend time down here?"

Hagrid looked surprised for a moment before shaking his head. "Slytherins? Ain't no Slytherins ever be hang'n round, yer snakes ave never want ta spend time 'round me." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Like I've said, only 'Arry an 'is friends."

Nothing was making sense. If the only ones that even bothered visiting Hagrid on a regular bases were Potter and his two mutts, than there were only 3 options. Weasley, Granger, and Potter, and two out of the three were still alive. Unless of course, Hagrid downplayed the connection he had to the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students. Which was highly unlikely, the half-giant would welcome every friendship he was offered with a large hug and made sure he boasted about them to whoever listened.

Oh did he remember how often he talked about Potter.

Than out of process of elimination, everything pointed to Potter; and that made him snarl. There was absolutely no way that Potter had practiced that kind of magic. He was much too light and much too stupid.

Perhaps his hypothesis was wrong.

Gracefully sliding from his chair and thankful to have both feet firmly on the ground Severus nodded his head in the other professors direction. "Thank you Hagrid, now I must go report to the headmistress." Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and left.

Upon reentering the school, Severus stormed through the halls an angry scowl on his face that made students stumbled out of his way as he approached.

Shaking his head he refused to dwell on what the oaf had said. Harry Potter did not have the skills nor the time necessary to learn that type of magic.

No, it was not Potter.

Snapping the password at the gargoyl 'Mihi credite' he once again entered the familiar office. Minerva was still sitting at the table where he had left her 30 minutes ago.

"What did you find out?" She asked him softly, not bothering to turn around.

Moving to sit in the chair he previously occupied he looked at the head mistresses troubled expression. "No one but Potter, Weasley, and the Granger girl ever visited enough to be considered anything but acquaintances."

As he said that, her face became even more troubled. He mulled over this, could she have possibly thought of something after he had left?

"When I fist met Harry Potter." She began abruptly, "he reminded me of a young Voldemort when he first started school."

Severus drew his eyebrows together,' a young Voldemort' he did not get that impression from the boy. Then again, he did not go to school with Voldemort, what would he know about what he was like back then.

"Minerva, what are you talking about?"

"They both orphans with that messy, uncontrolled black hair, and those cold eyes only people who have never known love could have." She looked over at Severus. "They were so alike, I wonder how many times we had come close to losing Harry."

The potions master sneered. "No love? That boy was worshipped before and after his death, he was so disgustingly light he -."

"He tortured Carrow with the Cruciatus curse. He was not as light as we thought." She sighed almost exasperatedly. "He wasn't bothered by using it either, even after he killed Quirell, they didn't bother him."

Severus took in a sharp intake of air through his nose. "Minerva, I don't believe Potter was a dark wizard."

"No, no, but he was… different from the other children his age. How many 11 year old's do you know that could brutally kill someone and be able to eat a full breakfast and laugh the next day? Harry Potter could, so could Tom Riddle."

"Potter and Riddle were psychopaths, is that what you are trying to convey?" He questioned stiffly, never had Potter crossed his mind as psychopathic. Potters occasional cold behavior to him could always be chalked up to a spoiled brat giving the cold shoulder, but perhaps there was more to it than that.

The old headmistress shook her head sadly. "Not a psychopath like Voldemort, but he didn't feel emotions like we do. He could tell the difference between right and wrong but never felt guilt over his actions." She rubbed at her eyes tiredly. "He had difficulties understanding certain emotions, but he was not evil."

He took a moment to digest this information. This was all new to him, this new side of Potter he never saw. Very strange, he found it, Potter a psychopath? It would explain why punishments never worked on him, so many detentions did he assign that boy, but it also left him wondering about how Potter really was. If this was true, than how much of Potters personality was a mask? Were his friends only seen as a tool in the young man's eyes, much like Voldemort's first followers?

The three of them were as thick as thieves since their first year up until Potters demise, they would sacrifice themselves for each other like the Gryffindor's they were. Unless that was a fake as well, to train his 'friends' to jump into battle to protect him. So many unanswered questions.

"You think the boy was capable of learning black magic?" He deduced.

"I am unsure, but I would like to figure out what happened during their year away. That is the only time Harry could have gotten ahold of that type of knowledge."

Slowly she stood up and paced over to the window and starred longingly out the slightly dirty glass. Watching a group of students run across the court yard.

"Severus… I miss them."