The adventures of mycroft snape

Harry was standing in the middle of a room being hugged by a stranger, while Hermione was apologizing and telling him It is Tonks potion and said hugger stranger was telling him he is in fact his brother and wonder of Wonders! He is Snape's son!
There really was not a procedure telling you what to do when being told you are your last favorite professor's son, therefore Harry fainted.
But may be it is better to step back a little?
Right?
It was some days after that blasted tournament and Harry still had night terrors. Not that he had not them before, but they were just mild night mares, the usual Harry Potter stuff ones you know? For example aunt Marge bull dog chasing him and biting him, the troll thing in first year, the basilisk coming to him while he did not have the sword , et etera...et cetera.
But Merlin did he have night TERRORS!
one night it was the blasted Quirlmort, one night it was the 16 year old Riddle, one night it was demeantors and tonight would certainly get the top mark, full O. It was Riddle dancing with Quirlmort over Cedric's dead body, 16 years old Riddle kissing Ginny and Pettigrew clapping while riding a demeantor. And although Harry made sure to bite on something when he went to sleep, but it was not useful tonight . He was awakened while screaming, then he vomitted on the floor. Thanks to every deity , his stomach was so empty it was just dry heaving. Because Uncle Vernon was awakened too and he had slapped him, hard enough to bruise. Harry prayed that was not that, because his aunt would not like that much and shriek at him" what would neighbors say" in that awful awful shrill tone of her. Harry should have  known then and there that this day was not to improve, none at all.
He remained awake after, staring at the dark nothingness around him. At least he would not have to endure another kind of night terror. As he did not have his wand, or trunk, homework was out. He checked Hedwig's cage and she was still out. Harry hopefully checked his small room, maybe someone sent a letter to him? But there was none. He did not knew why he was either sad, or angry these days. Mostly angry to be exact. Harry felt alone, He was trapped here, while that monster who killed cedric was doing God know what. He felt a pang at his heart, was it actually Voldemort? Wasn't it himself? If he did not stupidly offer that God forsaken cup, would he be alive now?
Was it not sad that he saw his parents for the first time, when he was 14, and at a grave yard while dealing with his noseless ass, and just their ghosts too. No time for hugs, even if ghosts did not have the ability, No time for chats, just running for his life, with a body, while being injured-his hand was bleeding thanks to that basterd Pettigrew- and a gang of death eaters at his back. And they dared to say he had POTTER'S LUCK!
Harry's senses were alert too, and there was a nagging at the back of his head that somehow something fishy is going on, but he could not pin point what and how.
So when the morning finally arrived, he was totally tired and miserable, he burned one of the sausages, got a pot thrown at his head by his aunt, got yelled at, did not get to eat, got yelled at again and was sent to back yard to harass the bushes, where he was not seen. Because his sodding uncle had bruised his cheek. How he was being held responsible for that too, he couldn't understand for the life of him.
Duddly the  duffer and his stupid side kick, Piere the prick was out and about, and they brushed up on their Harry harassing by a game of Harry hunting which left his ankle in pain. when he was finally free, Harry went to lick his wounds in private. He had scrapped knees, a not good looking ankle, a hurt elbow and dirty face. He was not able to wash last night, so he was kinda smelly but as there was no choice, he went to  shower, which had the unfortunate side effect of encountering his harpy of an aunt delightful presence, getting a lecture, being told how Lovely Dudder would not behave like an urchin getting mud every where and after shower, he has to clean up the house too.
So Harry tided the house, then cooked lunch, and as a result of his aunt being on charity mood ( no doubt she thought she was now either goddess of generosity or Lady of benefaction)  because Lovely Dudders was on a diet, he had to eat veggi too. I mean why in hell's always burning fire Harry had to eat broccoli? It was not as if He had any meat on whatsoever, let alone fat. And broccoli? That was just God's revenge against mankind because of every shit they had done and put the blame on god. And because Harry had to eat big D's portion of broccoli behind his aunty's back, Harry was sure if he now farted, it would smell like broccoli.
As a result of Vernon not being home, He got exactly one hour doing his homework, which he totally screwed up, because his mind was not on it. Harry was sure if Snape saw what delightful discoveries he had made on various uses of moonstone, he would have kittens (or snakelets? Did slytherin have snake babies? Dinosours? Lizard kids). But he was able to nick his wand, shoving it in his baggy ugly hand me down , did he say ugly?, shirt's (if he was oh so generous calling that monsterosity a shirt) pocket. 
After all the debacle of washing the dishes and drying them was done, he got to go to front yard, out of sight out of mind, so when Vernon came, he would be absent. Harry had became awfully thirsty, but there was no way putting himself at his uncles's mercy not today of all days, which he had a bad day and last night had been awoken due to Harry shouting.
He remained there, thirsty and miserable and hot, working on the roses, roses which had thorns that cut his poor fingers quite often. It was nearly night time when he saw two guys, one a tall bald and black, the other a frowning scary women. He clutched his wand's handle in his pocket, scared shitless. Maybe it was because of that he did not see two big fat guys coming out of nowhere, throwing a kind of big capsule full of gas towards the back of the house, which promptly exploded.
Then there was shouting and fire and ashes in his eyes and ears and mouth and his lungs burned like hell. That was when the tall bald black guy came, and tried to grab him. Harry dutifully stumped on his toes, kicked like a brat and elbowed him in his nose. The guy cursed something awful which might have made Vernon's father glow in pride (the guy was a sailor) : Harry, Mister potter, stop! I am with Dombledore, just…brat! Stop it!
Harry had a mind to stick his toungue out: oh? Like Moody was with him? No thank you mister vulture. The guy stopped and bited a laugh: vulture?
Harry shouted while running: bald and all.
The guy was closing in on him: right, I am from the order!
Harry was confused for a second, like, what? Order? Order to what? Which order? Dombledore had an order? To put what in order? Dombledore ordered? When the guy captured him from behind: gatcha! Then looked at his still puzzled face, :It seems you are not aware of any thing. Portus!
Then shoved the showlace portkey at him, while trying to cast a patronus.
Then Harry had appeared in some strange house, when there was voice like Remus arguing quite loudly with a voice like Sirius about ruining a potion of all things? And paternity potion? Was Remus or …god forbid Sirius going to be a father? 
His thread of thoughts were cut by Hermione shouting: Harry!
Then the ginger stranger kid had said something like: Harry? Harry Potter!
Then hugged him.
Then said how he is happy he has found his brother, and that he had never had a big brother and…
Wait a minute? Brother? Harry did not have one, right? His brother, from james, his mom was not pregnant before him? After him?
But Hermione was not correcting the guy, and Hermione almost always corrected what was wrong, she just kept repeating it is Tonks potion.
Then the ginger stranger said he was being silly, that his mother was a holmes, and they shared a father who was a Professor at Hogmart named Snape.
Hermione still did not correct him.
So Harry, overwhelmed so much (seriously what on earth? And really, HOGMART), feinted and ended the terrible day (day mare, did we have such a thing?) by his own hand, may he have been delusional and dreamed all of that.
Because fate always liked pulling Harry's leg, He got his first, special glimps of Voldemort's shit of mind that day.
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Greg talked about many things, there was a whole lot of things Sherlock has not a clue about. They apologized from Molly and John, and left them to catch up on juicy rumors they did not have time to share in the last week or so. As Gregory suggested they went to a public bar. ordered some drinks and  sat at the least crowded corner. It was still early and few people wandered around. Greg while playing with the new engagement ring in his left hand said " you knew how many times there was an assassination attempt against him while we dated?
Six. For starters tell many how many of them you are aware about. When he saw the look on Sherlock's face he sighed: none? So this is gonna be harder. Listen, we were involved, and we kinda dated, as much as he was able, but mostly, We talked about things, things that mattered to me, things that mattered to him, our problems and such. Those, sorry, those are private. I acted as his medical proxy on two of those assassination, I meant after those. Taking decisions for him when he could not himself. Once he had to hve his spleen removed, another was when his right hand had completely shattered and they wanted to cut it off.
Sherlock spat his drink, eyes wide, terror on his face: Wait, what?
Gregg just continued: which I did not let them to, as you last see he had two hands. The first was two days or so before debacle with hell hounds and liberty industries. Last was somehow at the time you had your encounter with Moriarty, before we broke up.
Sherlock argued: but, his spleen you say? Two days? I talked with him on the phone when I used his identity card. I saw his response was off, late but…no way that was on two days time. When I was shot, It took me a week to stand on my own, and I am much younger..
Gregg shrugged: well he is smarter than you, and that bitch sis of yours..no do not interrupt me.he is smarter, and your sis is a bitch, you not agree? Get the fuck out.
Sherlock wanted to protest, but seeing the look on his face, remained silent. 
Gregg resumed: so he said, when I asked him how the hell? He said he was always able to do so. Tell his mind to heal him? He was not clear. But said when he was 13, his sibling had stabbed his shoulder, and he told his mind to heal so he could go to a chess match a week later. And a week later, he was up and about and won that chess thingy. His mind was like that. Wanna know how? Ask him yourself.
Sherlock got what was not said. That sibling being most likely Eurus…and that answered his questions. Where was Mycroft when he was kidnapped by cabby Moriarty. He was about to lose his hand, and Sherlock did not help one bit by screwing the trial by aggravating the jhdge and being thrown out and got himself in a cell with jim the jolly killer. If Sherlock said he was just ashamed, he was a total git. He was repeled by himself.
Sherlock bite his lip, " detective, are you, do you know who maybe…who maybe his confidant now?'
Gregg took a look of him" just a letter"
: a..letter? written to?
:nope, just a letter . a single letter. A one letter.
: wha…a..what?
" I took a pic his medical proxy after me, changed into a letter. R. and that is it.
Then he picked up his phone: sorry, Molly's calling me to pick her up. I gatta go.
Sherlock did not even understand he was gone until an hour later, because he was trying to catalogue every R in his mind palace.