Alright, so the door doesn’t lead to anywhere Harry recognizes. That’s disheartening, certainly, but nothing to kick up such a fuss about.

“Will you be quiet?” Harry hisses to Snape. “What if someone hears us?”

Harry peers anxiously around him, noting the details of this new place--a bedroom--as he searches out escape routes. The door back to the Room has faded back into the wall, so that only leaves the door that presumably goes to the rest of the house. There is also a grimy window and Harry strides over to it and looks outside. Disheveled little houses are packed like sardines on either side of a muddy river. Large smokestacks dot the landscape, all of them pumping foul smoke into the sky. If he has to, Harry decides, he can jump out the window to safety. A fat clump of bushes, just under the window, will cushion his fall nicely.

There doesn’t seem to be any immediate danger, so Harry turns back to the room and takes a closer look. He’d guess it was an attic garret from the sloped ceiling and the stuffy, slow-moving air. The walls are bare, and the only furniture is a desk, dresser and a grim little bed. Does a boy or a girl live here? A wizard or a Muggle? Hard to tell. There aren’t any hints of personalization, nothing that would give away the occupant.

“Do you know where we are?” Harry asks Snape. His professor has stopped his yowling, at least, and is sitting on the bed, head in his hands. Snape doesn’t answer, which is weird. Harry steps closer and realized that Snape is shaking, actually shaking, beneath his curtains of hair.

“Professor?” Harry asks cautiously. “Are you alright?”

Further discussion is postponed by the soft patter of footsteps just outside the door. Harry dives behind the shabby dresser and pulls out his wand. “Snape!” he whispers urgently. “What are you doing? Hide!”

Too late. The door opens soundlessly, and a small boy steps inside, closing the door neatly behind him. The child stops dead when he sees Snape sitting on his bed.

“Hullo,” the boy says blankly. “Who are you?”

At this, Snape finally looks up. His face looks oddly haggard to Harry, and his eyes are registering profound shock. He seems incapable of speech, and just stares at the child.

The boy begins to look nervous. “What are you doing here?” he asks, still in the same soft voice. “Who are you?”

Harry shoots an encouraging look at his professor, but the man remains as still—and useless—as a statue. Harry stands up, slowly, and clears his throat.

The child whirls around, and Harry gets his first good look at him. He is wearing a closed black trench coat, ragged jeans, and bright red trainers. His long dark hair is unkempt, and there are smears of dirt on his face and hands. He makes an odd, yet somehow dashing little figure, and Harry can’t help but grin.

“Hi,” he says nicely, crouching back down so he is eye-level with the boy. “My name’s Harry. What’s yours?”

“Severus,” the boy says. His eyes dart back and forth between Snape and Harry. “I’m 9. How old are you?”

“Why are you here?” The boy asks. He crosses his arms over his thin chest and looks coolly at Harry. He has obviously decided Harry is the lesser of the two threats.

“My teacher and I got…lost,” Harry says lamely. “We’re sorry to, um, intrude like this.”

The little boy frowns. “Well, you’ll just have to leave. Dad won’t like it if he finds you here.”

As if on cue, heavy steps sound on the landing. The tiny Snape flinches, and, at the same exact moment, so does the larger one on the bed. The adult Snape stands up abruptly, but once again he is not quick enough to hide.

The door opens, and Tobias Snape strolls inside. The hooked nose is clearly a family tradition.

Snape and Harry, both in full view, freeze. But Tobias only addresses his small son. “Where’s your mum?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Severus mutters. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

“When you see her, tell her to get her fat arse to the kitchen and cook me some dinner.” Tobias bangs back out, and both Snapes sag with relief.

“He can’t see us!” Harry exclaims. “Wow. This keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

“I bet I know why I can see you and Dad can’t!” the boy says, a hint of pride in his voice. “It’s because Dad’s a…” His voice trails away, and he looks suspiciously at his visitors.

“It’s alright,” Harry assures him. “We’re wizards too.”

“Oh. Well, Dad is a Muggle. I bet that’s why he can’t see you.”

“Maybe,” Harry says doubtfully. He looks pointedly at Snape. “What do you think, Professor?”

In answer, Snape strides to the wall and begins running his hands over it, as though trying to find the outlines of the door to the Room. “Revelio!” he snarls, but nothing happens. “Potter! Find the door!”

Harry smiles at the boy apologetically, and then does everything he can think of to find the door. A lot of pops and sparks, but nothing else. “Well. It looks like we might be here for a while, Severus.”

“You can stay,” the child decrees grandly, pointing at Harry. “But I’m not so sure about him.”

“I don’t blame you,” Harry says dryly, darkly amused that little Snape doesn’t seem to like his future self. Then the grin falls off his face. Actually, who can blame the kid? He doesn’t have a whole lot to look forward to.

“This is madness,” Snape growls, pocketing his still-useless wand. He strides over to the child. “Do you know who I am?” he demands.

“No sir,” the boy says quickly.

“I’m a relative,” Snape says firmly. “Now, then--”

“SEVERUS!”

Both Snapes cringe again. Without a word, the small Snape glides toward the door and his steps quickly fade away. As he leaves, an invisible force pulls Harry forward. He bangs into the door and falls backwards into Snape, who is right behind him.

“I think we have to stay near him,” Harry pants, remembering how he had to stay close to Snape in the pensieve. Indeed, Harry can think of nothing else but getting little Severus back in his line of vision, and blindly stumbles to the door. He rushes downstairs, barely taking in his surroundings, Snape at his heels.

The pull ceases the second Harry sees the child again.

“Give this to Joe,” Tobias is telling Severus, stuffing some Muggle money into his son’s hand.

“He’s going to want more than this,” Severus says flatly, counting the bills.

“Well that’s your problem, aint it?”

Resentment flashes in the child’s eyes, but he pockets the money and marches out the door. Harry and Snape are bound to follow, and so they do. Harry is pleased to leave the grimy, depressing little house behind. He hasn’t been outside in ages, and the smoky wind feels wonderful against his cheek.

Snape doesn’t seem to be enjoying it at all. He glances about, hatred in his eyes, as they pass shabby house after shabby house. It’s the same look Harry has, he’s pretty sure, whenever he’s forced to return to Privet Drive.

“This looks like a Muggle town,” Harry observes, as an old tramp looks right through him. “And I think Severus is the only one who can see us.”

“Why has Dumbledore brought us here?” Snape returns, voice on edge.

“Now you know how I felt when you saw the dinosaur,” Harry reminds him.

“That was different,” Snape hisses. “That was a memory.”

“And this isn’t?”

“I would remember meeting my older self, Potter!” Snape snaps back, clearly at the end of some sort of tether. Harry shrugs and sticks his hands in his pockets.

They have reached a nondescript gray building next to a dumpster. A poster of a scantily clad woman adorns the door. Severus slips inside, and Harry and Snape follow. The little boy has clearly been here before, even though this is obviously no place for children. He winds his way to the basement, where three dangerous-looking men are playing poker on an old folding table. The child marches up to one of them. “Here, Joe. Here’s what my dad owes you.”

The bald, fat man reminds Harry of Uncle Vernon, and he can’t help but admire the proud, fierce look in the little boy’s eyes. He chances a look at Snape, and is surprised by the ugly look of rage he finds there.

“This all?” Joe grunts. “He owes me twice this.” He looks coldly down at the child, and slaps him across the face with a meaty paw. Severus stumbles backwards but manages not to fall over. The other men roar with laughter.

“You tell your dad there’s more of that coming,” Joe sneers. “I want my money.” The little boy turns and flees, and Harry has to flat-out run to keep up.

Once outside, Severus breaks into a dash. The neighborhood blurs by Harry, and stays that way until the child skids to a stop. They are inside a sun-dappled grove of trees. The river, now a proper blue, tinkles merrily by, and the air is cool and fresh. The child flops the ground, hand over his red cheek. This is an excellent hiding spot, Harry thinks approvingly. They are well removed from civilization, and there is something comforting about the sturdiness of the trees.

Snape strides over to the child, sinks to the ground, and unceremoniously takes the boy’s hand away from his cheek. It’s bleeding.

“I hate it when Joe wears a ring,” The child says wearily.

“I know,” Snape replies quietly. He dips his hand into the river and washes the blood away. He leaves his hand on the boy’s face longer than is strictly necessary, and then moves his hand to the child’s long, unkempt hair. He cards his fingers through it, once.

Severus looks up at the man, and Harry’s heart clenches as he sees the familiar ache in both pairs of dark eyes. “You look a lot like me.”

Snape seems to sense where this is going. “I’m not your father.”

Severus frowns and pulls away. An uncomfortable silence fills the thicket. Harry keeps his eyes down, feeling, again, that he is intruding on something private. He’d known that Snape had had a crummy childhood. But seeing it in the flesh makes it a lot more vivid.

“Severus!” squeals a new voice, and Harry looks around for the source.

A small red-headed girl bounces into view. She is wearing a pair of crisp jeans and a pretty blue jumper. Her bright green eyes are sparkling with curiosity as she takes in the two visitors. “Who’s this, then?”

“You can see them too?” Severus says excitedly. He jumps to his feet, slap forgotten.

“Of course,” the girl says haughtily.

“I think only magic people can see them,” Severus informs her. He immediately fumbles in his pocket and draws out some black licorice. “Want some?”

“Alright then.” She delicately takes a strand and begins to nibble on it as she considers the newcomers. “So you two are magic, are you?”

Harry swallows and nods at his nine-year-old mother. He sinks to the ground so he can look at her properly. They really do have the exact same eyes. “Magic,” he repeats, feeling dazed.

“I’m Lily,” she says, bemused by his reaction. “What’s your name?”

“Harry.”

“Oh, I’ve always loved that name,” Lily says happily. All the color drains out of Harry’s face, and she looks away, discomfited. “Who are you?” she asks Snape.

A wide smile breaks over the professor’s face, utterly transforming him. It is the first time Harry has ever seen him really smile. He kneels in front of Lily and kisses her hand gallantly. “I am Sir Gawain, madam, and I am at your service.”

This is so unexpected that Harry can only ogle at Snape. Lily, however, giggles and snatches her hand away. “Are you then? Lovely. Severus, you can be the Green Knight.”

The little boy scowls and shoots Snape the precursor of the infamous Snape glare. “Why can’t I be Gawain?”

Lily puts her hands on her hips. “Because he called it. Now you be the Green Knight.”

“Fine,” Severus grumbles. He straightens up, muttering to himself, eyes firmly closed. “Now!” he says fiercely, and his skin turns bright green. He opens his eyes, looking pleased, and shoots a darkly triumphant look at Snape.

“Oh, brilliant!” Lily says, clapping her hands. “Well done Severus!”

And now some pink mixes with the green. Harry can’t help but snort. Severus greatly resembles a miniature version of the Wicked Witch of the West.

“I never get to play with other magic people!” Lily says, fluttering around them. “Well except for Severus of course,” she adds, shooting a sly glance at her bright green companion. “Now,” she continues bossily. “Harry can be the Lord and I’ll be his wife the Lady.”

Both Snapes glare at Harry, who at this point is so confused that he can only shrug. He’s never heard of Sir Gawain, but like the Snapes he is more than willing to do anything Lily likes. He looks back at his professor, and a silent agreement passes between them to let the rest of the world go hang.

Lily’s reign is supreme.

“So first Gawain beheads the Green Knight,” Lily says imperiously.

Obligingly, Snape picks up a twig. Harry surreptitiously shoots a spell at it, wondering if it will work, and is pleasantly surprised when it transforms into a fake axe. Lily squeals and claps her hands. “Oh, well done!”

Smirking, the adult Snape bows and then pretends to behead a reluctant Severus. Lily directs the three of them for the next half-hour, and the little grove fairly pops with magic as Gawain meets the Lord and Lady. Finally Gawain, wearing the Lady’s green girdle, is restored to Camelot.

Lily shoves some transformed props away and plops to the grass. She leans over to the river and drinks thirstily. Then she lies on her back, looking dreamily up at the trees. “I never liked how that story ended.”

Harry and a slightly green Severus flop on either side of her. Snape leans against a tree across from them, a small smile on his lips. For once, his lack of magic seems to have slipped his mind, and he looks more at ease here than Harry has ever seen him. “Why not, Lily?”

“I always wanted Gawain and the Lady to end up married, but he goes off to Camelot and leaves her alone.”

The smile falls off Snape’s face. “I assure you,” he says quietly, “that Camelot was overrated.”

“Besides,” Harry interrupts, feeling annoyed for some reason. “The Lady was already married to the Lord. So Gawain couldn’t have married her.”

“That’s true,” Lily says thoughtfully. “And they seemed quite happy together, didn’t they?”

“They were happy together,” Harry says fiercely. “I know they were.”

“Well, whatever,” Lily says, losing interest. “I still think it would have been more romantic for Sir Gawain to dash off with her.”

Snape smirks triumphantly.

“You know what I never liked about Sir Gawain?” Severus says, twiddling a blade of grass between his fingers. “The Green Knight doesn’t die after he gets beheaded. He ought to die, but he doesn’t. And then later why doesn’t he kill Gawain? They made a deal, but he lets Gawain off with a scratch instead of beheading him.”

“Ew!” Lily says. “You’d rather the lot of them died? That’s gross, Severus.”

The child shrugs sullenly, but offers no further protest.

Lily looks back over at Snape. “You never said your real name,” she says accusingly. “Who are you really?”

“He’s my teacher,” Harry quickly supplies.

“At Hogwarts?” Lily says, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Er, yes,” Harry says. “He was teaching me to Apparate, you know—and I made rather a muddle of it, and we ended up in Severus’s bedroom.”

“He’s a relative of mine,” Severus says, eying Snape beadily. “He said.”

“A distant relative,” Snape says firmly. “You may call me Professor. Do not concern yourself beyond that.” He looks sternly down his nose at the pair of them. “Understand?”

“Yes sir,” the children answer in unison. And, just like that, the spell of the forest has broken, and they are no longer playfellows. Severus and Lily look at each other uneasily, as though they are just now realizing how cheeky they have been with a future Hogwarts master.

Lily turns toward Harry, clearly determined to pump him for information before the professor whisks him away. “What house are you in? Do you like Hogwarts? Are you Muggle-born or not? Is it true what Severus says, that it doesn’t matter?”

Harry shoots a look at Snape, who is staring fixedly at the ground, brow wrinkled. “I’m in Gryffindor,” he answers. “And I love Hogwarts.”

“And your parents?” Lily demands. “Muggles or what?”

This is possibly the hardest question Harry has ever had to answer. He swallows, and looks straight into her familiar green eyes. “My dad was a pureblood and my mum was a Muggle.”

“So you’re a half-blood like me,” Severus pipes up. “And that’s not a problem, right?” he asks Harry uncertainly. “People don’t tease you about that?”

“Not about that, no,” Harry says quietly.

“Good,” Severus breathes, just as softly.

“My parents are Muggles,” Lily interrupts crossly, clearly wanting to regain the center of attention. “Sev’s grandmother told me they kill Muggle-borns at Hogwarts, but she was just trying to scare me, wasn’t she?”

Harry nods vigorously.

“Nasty old woman,” Lily continues scornfully. “Well good, I didn’t fancy going off to school only to get killed.”

Absolute silence greets these words. Then Harry sits up and grabs his mother’s shoulders. She looks back at him, startled, her eyes wide.

“Listen, Lily,” Harry says urgently, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Don’t make Pettigrew your Secret-Keeper, okay? Use Remus or Sirius.”

“POTTER!” Snape roars. He jumps to his feet and grabs Harry by the collar. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Harry bellows back. “IF YOU THINK I’M JUST GOING TO SIT BACK AND LET HER DIE--”

“What?” interrupts Lily, sounding close to tears. “I’m not going to die! What are you talking about?” Young Severus is at her side at once, and there is a glint of warning in his eyes as he silently watches the confrontation.

“You once told me you didn’t have any stories of your mother,” Snape says, nose to nose with Harry, dropping his voice to a murmur. “Allow me to share one. Once upon a time, someone warned Lily Potter to change her Secret Keeper. She did, and the Dark Lord never found out where she lived with her husband and child. So the Dark Lord rose in power, unchecked, because the Potters were in hiding. And the Dark Lord killed Muggles and Muggle-borns and blood traitors, because there was nobody to stop him. The Grangers, certainly. The Weasleys, probably. And little Harry Potter never even had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, because his mother did not die to protect him!”

“I don’t care,” Harry says wildly. “Who says that is what will happen? You aren’t a Seer!”

“Are you really so selfish, Potter?”

“Why can’t I take what I need?” Harry demands. “And it’s not so bloody selfish for a kid to want his parents!”

“Changing the past is exceedingly dangerous, you foolish boy! Taking that dinosaur was risky enough, but this is pure stupidity. You have already altered things so much that you may have changed, or even erased, your own existence.” Snape’s voice goes up a notch. “Does that not concern you?”

Harry frowns deeply. “I’m willing to take the risk.”

“You must remain alive!” Snape hisses. “Lily and James must produce you, and you must remain alive to vanquish the Dark Lord! You are the only one with the power to do so!”

“Someone else can do it, surely!” Harry nearly stomps in frustration. He is so close to telling Lily everything, to fixing everything, if Snape would just shut up and leave him alone!

“You are the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord,” Snape repeats, almost as if he is quoting something. He points a bony finger at Harry. “You have to let her die, Potter, so she can give you the protection that will destroy the Dark Lord!”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to see Lily again? A fully-grown Lily?”

“Stop it, Potter!” Snape says huskily. “Do not tempt me! You must not tempt me!”

“You could have another chance with her,” Harry whispers, an odd gleam in his eyes. “We both could.”

A look of bitter longing sweeps over Snape.

“That’s right,” Harry says softly. “Sometimes you have to take risks, Snape. What if this is why Dumbledore sent us back here? To stop her death from happening?”

“STOP IT!” Snape cries. He shoves Harry violently away from him, and Harry tumbles to the ground.

“Leave him alone!” Lily shouts, and she throws her small body over Harry’s, arms thrust wide to protect him. Severus, meanwhile, runs at Snape, kicking him sharply in the shins. “Don’t hit him!” he yells fiercely, baring his sharp little teeth. “I thought you were different, but you’re just like all the rest! Now get out of here!”

Snape flinches under the onslaught and picks Severus up. He holds him at arm’s length, waiting in silence until Severus tires himself out. It takes quite awhile. “I will leave,” Snape promises quietly. He looks past the boy, locking eyes with Harry. “I will leave after Harry does what is right.”

And not what is easy, Harry thinks dully to himself. He can feel Lily’s heartbeat thudding on top of him. She feels like a hummingbird—just as small, just as fast. Just as fragile.

“It’s okay, Lily,” Harry says heavily. “He’s not going to hurt me. You can get up.”

Harry’s once and future protector disentangles herself and runs over to Snape. “Put Severus down,” she demands. Snape does so and squats down to address his younger self. “Remember this,” he says in his rumbling voice. “Remember that you deserve better.” The boy says nothing, but reaches a hand out to Lily, and the children huddle together uncertainly.

“Lily, Severus, come here please,” Harry says softly, hating himself for what he is about to do. They exchange glances, but do as they are told. Harry looks first at Severus, at this pale neglected moth doomed to flutter into the night. He wants to hug him, but knows the boy won’t appreciate it. He offers a hand instead, and the child solemnly shakes it.

Then Harry turns to his mother. Here he cannot help himself, and he envelops her in a hug, burying his head in her long red hair. For a moment he allows himself to forget the future, and just remember the smell of her hair and the intake of her breath. She is alive, now, and that is as good as it is going to get. “I love you,” he says, her hair muffling his words. He breaks away, and her green eyes are wet. “You are a strange boy,” she whispers.

“I know,” Harry whispers back. He takes out his wand before he can lose his nerve, pointing it at the pair of them. He opens his mouth to deliver the crucial, horrible word:

“Obliviate!”

And then he and Snape are whirling away, Merlin only knows where, maybe to their deaths. Does it matter?

The last thing he hears is Lily’s voice, saying something about it being time for tea, and then a sob catches in Harry’s throat, and he is howling into nothingness as he spins.