Harry nervously knocked on the door leading to the old, abandoned classroom. Snape had long since stopped snapping his head off every time he entered a room but it was never unreasonable to err on the side of caution. Snape still hated him – or at least that was what he appeared to do – but it was a much less aggressive hatred than it had been before the summer...

The summer where Harry had been forced to leave the Dursleys once and for all, not because he had finally convinced the Headmaster he didn’t want to go back or because they had found a safer place to hide him, but because his aunt had been killed by Death Eaters. No aunt, no protection. No protection, no reason to keep Harry in a defenceless Muggle neighbourhood with his antagonistic Uncle and pudgy cousin.

Harry supposed he should feel guilty about being glad that Aunt Petunia was dead, but he was so filled with relief that he wouldn’t have to go back to Privet Drive. Ever. Again.

Of course, living arrangements had become a bit of a problem after that, and the Headmaster had eventually decided – with much enthusiastic prompting from Harry – that it really would be best for him to remain behind Hogwarts’ formidable protections.

The door was yanked open from directly in front of him and his eyes darted to take in the stern form of the Potions Master standing barely three feet away. His lopsided grin of remembrance disappeared immediately.

“Trying to make a point, Potter? Or have you spontaneously contracted a case of deafness through severe self-absorption? What are you waiting for, boy? Get in!”

Snape gestured sharply with his right arm, which Harry hurriedly ducked beneath in an attempt to cut off the tirade.

So much for avoiding Snape’s temper...

Harry sighed and leaned against one of the old desks, watching as his teacher made his way to the front of the room. It’s not like he expected Snape to be nice; Snape was never nice. However, Harry had learned that if he was careful, the pair of them could maintain a civil, working relationship with the minimum of derisive sarcasm as long as Harry did what Snape said when he said it. He had learned the hard way that most of Snape’s instructions weren’t just a waste of time; three weeks of walking around with a bad lisp after a potions accident would do that to a person.

Unfortunately, tonight didn’t look like it was going to be one of the better ones.

“... just like your father: arrogant, bull-headed and determined to waste everyone else’s time simply because it doesn’t fit in with your ideal world view. Skin those salamanders, slice their skin thinly and hand them to me when you’re done. And be quick about it!”

Drawing a shaky breath, Harry set to his task, biting the inside of his cheek in an attempt to ignore the vitriol. Over the summer he had discovered that, while Snape was still as nasty as ever, the less you antagonised him, the fewer ways he found to deride you. In fact, there were sometimes added benefits, like being brusquely taught how to brew an antidote properly or be instructed in the precise way to banish a vampire. Snape knew a lot and Harry had taught himself to put up with the bad in order to gain more knowledge, and the more respectful Harry was towards the Potions Master, the more said Potions Master seemed not to mind teaching Harry a few clever tricks.

After four years at Hogwarts, Harry felt that finally his Slytherin side was coming in to play.

“What are you doing, boy? You should know by now that salamander skin should be sliced lengthways not widthways,” a silky voice purred dangerously.

Harry looked down at the offending ingredient. Of course, just because he was finally getting the hang of manipulating situations didn’t mean that sometimes they required more patience than he felt he could handle. Giving the inside of his cheek a final nip, he said in a ‘contrite’ voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I must have been distracted. Should I start again?”

Snape sneered down his nose at Harry’s chopping board and Harry waited quietly for the prognosis, reciting as many Quidditch fouls as he could remember in an attempt to not throttle the arrogant man.

Eventually Snape spoke, “I do not see any reason why I should waste perfectly good salamanders when these would work just as well. Just remember that next time your sloppiness will earn a detention.” Saying nothing more, Snape glided back to his own work table and proceeded to completely ignore Harry.

Harry quickly got to work again, resisting the urge to use his sharp knife to bash the head of the next salamander in. Snape could be so frustrating!

Come on, Harry. You know the reason he’s being so snappish tonight is because he’s in pain; he’s always like this on those nights.

‘Those’ nights, as Harry referred to them with sarcastic fatalism, were the nights that Voldemort chose to summon his errant spy in an attempt to teach the defector a lesson. Naturally, Snape was much harder to keep placid on these nights and Harry had long since given up trying to deflect the insults thrown at him, or even try to argue with them. The only reason Harry had been allowed to help in the first place, which Snape had taken relish in repeating many times, was because of Harry’s blood link to Voldemort.

Harry’s strange affinity to the Dark Lord, couple with the fact that the evil creature had Harry’s mother’s protection flowing through his veins, made Harry’s blood the perfect final ingredient in the potion to neutralise the Dark Mark. During the weeks that Snape summoned him to work on the potion, Harry had found himself gradually becoming more and more involved in the brewing process. It was often after these inopportune meetings and the judicious insults that came with them that Snape would finally relax enough to teach Harry something new and not always on the syllabus. Harry was hoping to extend his Offensive Spells’ armoire tonight and was already working through the right way to phrase his request.

A small smirk played around his lips as he remembered there had been a time when he couldn’t ask Snape for anything without getting his head bitten off straight afterward. He could still remember the time when he was horrified by the very idea of being in a room with Snape, a mere two months ago.

Now it was still pretty bad, but at least he knew how far he could go before Snape turned vicious. Besides, though Harry would never admit it, he was sometimes very grateful for the man’s presence. Everyone else seemed convinced that Harry needed to talk about what had happened the previous year with Voldemort, to help exorcise the trauma he must obviously be feeling. Or to be coddled, which was even worse. Snape didn’t try to get him to talk about it, in fact, the man didn’t seem to give a damn, and that was exactly what Harry needed at times; someone who looked to the future and made plans accordingly, instead of mithering Harry and insisting that he live in the past.

Harry shook these thoughts away with a measure of disgust. If he didn’t pay attention, he’d prepare the ingredients wrong again and have Snape whisper his disgust in the tone that always turned Harry’s guts to ice.

“I’ve finished the salamanders, sir.” No hesitation, no questions, just a simple statement. Those were always the safest.

Snape glided back over and sneered at them from above Harry’s shoulder. “I suggest you add them to the cauldron, then...”

Harry could tell that Snape was getting tired as the derisive drawl became more pronounced. Wordlessly, he placed the ingredients in the cauldron and held out his hand for Snape to draw the blood.

The silver knife slit easily through his arm, the sting making him bite his lip and tense as he waited for the ten precious drops to trickle down.

“There,” Snape muttered, turning away from the cauldron and carefully running his wand along Harry’s cut to close it. “Your assistance is no longer required past this point tonight, Potter...”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He was staring at the roiling cauldron partially blocked out by his Professor’s looming form.

He only had time to call out, “Professor!” in alarm before the whole brew imploded violently, dragging the frozen forms of Snape and Harry with it.

Harry came back to himself very quickly, coughing and spluttering as he was in the debris. A fine mist of dust seemed to cover everything; the air was thick with it. The destroyed cauldron sat forlornly a few feet away: a twisted black lump rising out of the floor and covered in gelatinous gloop.

Well, that could have gone better...

He slowly hauled himself to his feet, joints aching a little from being thrown against the wall, and looked around for the Professor. Sure enough, the man was standing two feet away, furiously brushing off the dust and gloop from his once-black robes. Harry looked down at himself and saw with a groan that he was covered in the same.

Upon hearing the noise, Snape spun around and came face to face with Harry, long fingers enclosing Harry’s shoulders in a pincer-like grip.

“Ow! Professor...” Harry tried to squirm away but Snape’s hold just tightened as the Professor turned him from side to side as though looking for any obvious injuries. “I’m fine!”

Snape sneered at him for another moment before releasing him and folding his arms menacingly across his chest.

“What did you do?” The deadly whisper was almost silent, emotionless and in that moment Harry knew that he was in big trouble.

“What did you put into the cauldron? What little trick did you play?” Snape’s voice was drawling and almost soundless, yet Harry could hear every syllable and his stomach was doing panicky flops in response.

Remaining calm and still in the hopes that it might limit the damage, Harry stared over Snape’s shoulder, absolutely certain he couldn’t meet the burning gaze just yet. “I didn’t do anything, sir. I think my sleeve might have dipped into the cauldron when you were adding the blood though.”

Snape hissed angrily under his breath. “Idiot boy! You know as well as I do that any extra ingredient added to the potion would have made it extremely volatile. You could have been killed!”

The man had turned away and was picking through the debris for anything salvageable before Harry could even consider working out what Snape had meant by his last statement. Instead, he gritted his teeth against the angry exclamation which wanted to yell that Snape had been just as much to blame for the slip.

“Come along, Potter, we’re going to the Headmaster’s office to report this little accident.” The tone of voice made Harry bristle again and only by biting his tongue and reminding himself that he’d be giving Snape just what he wanted did he manage to keep silent on the matter. There was something satisfying in denying him.

“Sir, will we need to brew another batch of potion for you after we see Professor Dumbledore?” he said coldly, determined to prove that he was better than Snape.

Snape seemed to deflate a little before his eyes and the man stopped on his way to the door to examine his left arm. “It appears the liberal dose I received through skin contact has been sufficient,” the man said in an indifferent tone, which, Harry supposed roughly translated to, ‘I’m fine, Potter, thanks for asking.’

Why does he have to be so difficult?

Harry stepped out into the corridor and felt a cleaning spell pass over his skin as he shut the door. He looked up in time to see a newly-immaculate Snape striding down the corridor away from him, obviously expecting him to follow.

Difficult doesn’t even begin to cover it. Why does he have to have these mood swings all the time? One minute he’s being as nasty and judgemental as he can and the next he does something like this. Why can’t he make up his mind? I’m his assistant! He should at least make an effort to be decent to me; he needs my blood to complete the potion. What if one day I decide I don’t want to freely offer my blood for the potion? What then? I mean, it’s not as if I wouldn’t, but all the same...

Continuing to silently grumble to himself, Harry hurried on down the corridor, close on the heels of the man who seemed determined to make Harry’s life as difficult as possible one way or another. Unfortunately, Snape could brood even better than Harry and unless he wanted to go back to square one with the Potions Master and miss out on any new duelling tips, it appeared Harry would have to be the responsible one.

Why do I always have to be the adult? I’ve only been fifteen for four months.

“Professor?” Harry hurried up alongside Snape. “I apologise for being so negligent with the potion and destroying one of your cauldrons. I should have been more careful,” he said formerly, praying that Snape would be impressed by his extended vocabulary, because he really was at the end of his patience now.

Snape gave him a fierce look out of the corner of his eye before sneering, “Next time you had better not make such a foolish mistake.” He paused. “However, neither of us sustained any injury so your recklessness is not too much of an inconvenience. Now, hurry up, Potter!”

Snape pushed Harry out in front, forcing him to keep walking, but Harry found he didn’t mind too much. Understanding Snapespeak was getting easier the longer he spent with the man, and as far as Harry could tell, the man had essentially stated that he’d forgiven Harry for the destroyed cauldron. Not that that did much for Harry’s fried nerves though.

Harry sighed silently and turned the corner, about to ask Snape about some Defence spells he’d read about in the library, only to come to an abrupt stop two seconds later. Snape nearly ended up tripping over him, but Harry barely noticed. All he could do was gape at the group of five people gaping back at him.

“Mum?” Harry asked incredulously. “Dad?”

Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder pulling him backwards and he found himself standing behind a white-lipped Snape – a sure sign that he was angry – who looked ready to give several months worth of detention to any one of the four Marauders, or the girl who would surely one day grow up to be Lily Potter.

“What is this?” Snape hissed. “Did you think it would be amusing to prank a Professor in such a way? Well, let me be the first inform you that you are most mistaken and that I shall personally make sure that each and every one of you will be expelled if you don’t come forward with your true names immediately. Well? I’m waiting.”

Harry found he could not decide who he wanted to stare at the most; his fifteen year old parents or his Potions Professor. The man looked quite deranged – almost as bad as the time when he had discovered Sirius had escaped right from under his prodigious nose – the whites of his eyes were very evident and the sneer was so pronounced that Snape looked like he was in a rictus of pain. He had the look of a man about to hex everything in sight regardless as to whether they were friend or foe.

Luckily, Harry managed to find his voice before that. “Professor,” he murmured softly, shakily, “I don’t think this is a prank. I think it’s real.”

Oh God. If this is real, how in the hell are we ever going to get back? What about Voldemort? What about...

The expressions of shock and anger on the others’ faces were too genuine to be manufactured or practised. However, the alternative to this being a prank was utterly impossible so Harry just lapsed into silence, glancing between the group and Snape in the hope that someone would take control and explain it all.

Someone did end up taking control, but not in the right way.

“Snivellus,” James Potter sneered, lazily drawing his wand and twirling it in tiny circles that never quite pointed in Snape’s direction, but would be able to in a second should the situation so desire it. “What the hell are you on about being a Professor? As if anyone would want to hire someone like you.”

The other three boys snickered appreciatively at this ‘humour’ while the girl tossed her head in disgust, looking very much like she wanted to turn her back and walk away. She didn’t say anything, though, and Harry felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he had a sudden, vivid memory of being taunted by Dudley.

Please don’t say that my father... that he...

Harry barely had to wait before being proved right in the worst possible way.

“What’ve you done to yourself, Snivellus?” James continued. “Think that using one of your potions to make you look older would somehow make you special?” James threw back his head and laughed as though this was the funniest thing on the planet. “And who’s this with you? One of your Slytherin pals you convinced to Polyjuice into me?”

And within a second, James’s derisive gaze had moved on to Harry, and Harry realised, that with his eyes and scar concealed by the dungeon shadows, he must look the absolute spit of James Potter. Despite the fact that, for the first time in his life, that was the very last thing Harry wanted.

No wonder Snape’s always–

“Always so very witty, weren’t you, Potter?” Snape whispered, eyes narrowing even as he drew himself up poker-straight. “Such a pity you were born an arrogant fool.”

“Me, arrogant?” James forced a laugh. “Look who’s talking!”

Harry glanced again between the two glaring adversaries and realised that, out of them all, it was only he and Lily who seemed to be the impartial parties; the only ones who might be able to calm everyone down and move the situation away from dangerous waters. And Lily still appeared to be struck dumb. Quickly ducking out from beneath Snape’s restraining grasp on his arm, Harry moved into the No Man’s Land between them all and held his empty hands out, regardless of the Marauders’ narrowing eyes and Snape’s attempts to pull him back to ‘safety’.

“My name is Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter,” he stated firmly, emotionlessly, rather reminding himself of Snape at his coldest. “The year is 1995 – at least it was last time I checked – and this is Professor,” Harry purposely stressed the title, refusing to acknowledge the irony that it was him willingly saying this, “Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Harry finished with a flourish, strangely determined to stress that Snape was worthy of respect, at least in their time because, despite everything, he was.

The girl had paled at his first revelation and by the time he’d finished, she abruptly turned around and strode off down the corridor without once looking back. Harry watched her go, refusing to be hurt by her dismissal – besides, she wouldn’t even meet him for another five years.

And she’ll be dead in six.

Harry clenched his jaw and turned towards the remaining four. Lupin was now eyeing them both curiously, no hint of animosity in his gaze, Pettigrew was gawking unashamedly, Sirius was staring with blatant disbelief and James... well, James was watching them both with a peculiar glint in his eyes. Harry wasn’t sure whether this could be considered good or bad as it left him no clue as to whether the boy believed him or not.

“Well then,” James said smoothly, looking very much like he wanted to laugh again, “the year is currently 1975, so I can only assume that we either have a couple of time-travellers or liars on our hands. I suppose we all should take a trip to see Professor Dumbledore...”

The glint intensified and Harry resisted the urge to step back behind Snape in case it turned out to be malicious. Fortunately, he did not have to make the decision, for at that moment a hand suddenly gripped his shoulder from behind and pulled him backwards again.

“Always reckless, aren’t we, Mr Potter?” Snape hissed angrily in his ear.

Harry glanced back, shocked by the note that almost sounded like... concern in Snape’s voice. Not that that was possible, though. “Err... What do you mean?”

“Forgotten the primary rule of Time-turner travel, have we?” Snape’s voice was at its very lowest and coldest; Harry resisted the urge to step away. “You. Must. Not. Be. Seen. And what have you just done? Announced to known characters from our past precisely who we are and when we came from. It appears whatever intelligence I ever credited you with has been woefully misplaced!”

“Oh.” OK, now Harry felt stupid. Very stupid. “Can you Obliviate them?” he hissed back, eyeing the Marauders who seemed to be watching their whispered conversation very closely. It didn’t help Harry’s nerves that all of their wands were still trained on them.

Suddenly, Snape straightened and stepped away from Harry. “It appears not,” he said, jerking his chin down the corridor.

Harry followed his gaze and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Dumbledore striding down the corridor towards them, Lily close on his heels. Everything would be alright now: Dumbledore would know what to do. He hoped.

Dumbledore surveyed them all from his position behind the Headmaster’s desk – the six students and one errant Potions Master – over the top of his slightly uneven, half-moon spectacles. Strange instruments whirred and clicked around the room, filling the air with their soothing cacophony. Fawkes watched inquisitively from his perch, the portraits muttered among themselves, and the catalogue of knitting patterns – which should have detracted from the general air of venerability surrounding Dumbledore – merely added an eclectic atmosphere to the room.

Snape, Harry noticed, looked less than impressed.

“I daresay I do not have to tell you that this matter is of the utmost gravity,” Dumbledore’s calm voice asked from behind the desk.

The six students shook their heads in immediate sincerity, whereas Snape just snorted and glared at a nearby portrait, who was feigning sleep spectacularly badly.

“Ah, excellent!” Smiling congenially, Dumbledore pulled out a bag from his robes and shook it a little. “In that case, would anyone care for a Dolly Mixture? I discovered them quite recently and they are really quite delicious.”

From the set of Snape’s jaw, the man appeared to be grinding his teeth. Really hard. Harry had to bite his tongue quite hard to keep from bursting out into pointless, hysterical laughter.

He easily distracted himself by watching the Marauders head for the bag of sweets with great enthusiasm; even reserved Lily helped herself to a piece. Apparently they weren’t yet familiar with the Headmaster’s delaying tactics. Now that their faces were relaxed and confident, and not confrontational and angry, Harry found he couldn’t quite tear his eyes from their familiar, alien faces.

The Headmaster was speaking again but Harry didn’t hear a word. He was too busy mapping the exact similarities and differences between James’s face and his own to pay proper attention. The way the other’s nose was slightly longer, his hair was messier, his height was greater, and his eyes were brown...

To be honest, the resemblance was spooky. Harry knew he shouldn’t be at all happy about his father’s not-so-pleasant-behaviour in the hallway, but quite honestly, this boy would one day be his Dad and he didn’t seem so bad when he wasn’t targeting Snape...

“Mr Potter!”

Harry immediately yanked himself from his daydream. That tone of voice was something he had been conditioned to obey ever since he had first set foot in the man’s classroom, and habits like that are not easily broken.

“Yes, Professor?” Harry had to admit, Snape had looming down to an art form.

“Do you really think that what the Headmaster is saying does not relate to you? That you are above listening, Potter?” Snape asked, his derision for Harry clearly evident from his tone.

It was a great pity that Snape’s extra irritability hadn’t disappeared with the pain from his Mark like it usually did. Apparently travelling to another time had shot the Slytherin Head of House’s nerves to hell. Harry almost wished he could tune him out. Hot food and a warm bed sounded much more appealing than dealing with a frustrated Snape, no matter where – or when – they were.

Harry’s eyes briefly flicked to the rest of the room. Dumbledore seemed to almost be amused by the exchange, while the Marauders looked very much like they wanted to call Snape every foul name under the sun. Harry’s near smile was immediately diminished when he saw that Lily seemed to be regarding the scene with complete indifference.

“I’m very sorry, sir,” Harry said firmly, ignoring Snape and directing his words to Dumbledore. “It’s just that it’s quite late and I’m tired. I’m afraid my mind was wandering a bit.” He smiled self-deprecatingly up at the Headmaster, hoping that his innocent expression would win over the old man. The smile almost changed to a smirk as he saw young Sirius wink at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Not at all, not at all... Harry, wasn’t it?” Dumbledore asked genially. While his face seemed passive, his customary twinkle alerted Harry that Dumbledore knew exactly what he was up to. “I’m sure we’ll all be able to get in our beds soon enough. Preferably with something to eat beforehand?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically and wondered if he had imagined hearing Snape snort.

“Excellent! I’m sure these boys here will be able to see to your nutrition after you leave. Now, Professor Snape, do you think an – well, for lack of a better word – antidote can be concocted for your, ah, situation?”

Snape drew himself up to his full height. “Of course, Headmaster.” Arrogant confidence was evident from the man’s tone and Harry almost rolled his eyes at it before remembering that Snape’s confidence in his ability was his only ticket home... save for actually living out the twenty years between where he was now to where he had been. Harry shuddered.

Snape continued, “I will require a day to make inventory, a day to set up and three days to experiment... possibly more.”

Dumbledore smiled, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, seeming not to notice that Snape had just revealed that he would have two time-travellers on his hands for at least five days. “That’s settled then!” he said, his cheerful voice ringing through the office. “Professor Snape will have the west dungeons to himself to experiment in while Harry continues going to classes. Well, I think that’s all...”

“Wait! What?” Harry stared at Dumbledore incredulously. “Did you seriously just say I have to go to classes with my... with them?” He gestured at the Marauders, who all seemed to be trying to muffle their laughter.

“Certainly, Harry. After all, we can’t have you falling behind in your education, can we?”

For the umpteenth time, Harry wondered how he could find the same person both exasperating and amusing. But then, Dumbledore always had marched to his own tune. “B-but, sir!” Harry glared at Snape, who’d retreated into the shadows. How dare he smirk at a time like this! “Shouldn’t you be Obliviating them instead of encouraging me to spend time with them? You know, so they can forget that I’m their son?” Harry waved his hand wildly again, wondering if there was anyone at all in the room who wasn’t wearing an amused expression.

Honestly! Am I the only one taking this seriously?

“Ah, Harry,” Dumbledore chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye and pulling himself together.

Harry gritted his teeth and waited with poorly concealed impatience as the old man gathered himself again.

“Now, please forgive us, dear boy. You are quite right in recognising that young Lily and James must not know about you until later on in their lives, but that is no reason not to let them get to know you now!”

Harry closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Irritation was definitely winning out over humour now. “Would you kindly explain what you mean, Headmaster?” he gritted out, glad that the Headmaster from his own time didn’t mess about as much. With Harry, at any rate.

“I do believe the esteemed Professor Dumbledore is referring to the Concealment Curse,” a low voice murmured from the dark space behind Fawkes’s perch. Harry smirked as the Marauders’ heads snapped around comically fast, almost as if they had forgotten Snape was there. Harry hadn’t. And right now, he was extremely grateful that the man was nearby to lend a little sanity to the situation, whereas a mere five months ago he would have thought the exact opposite.

“Thanks, Professor... Err, what is that?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed and he looked ready to snap some derisive comment at Harry – probably something about he could never be bothered to study – when Dumbledore intervened.

“The Curse itself is from uncertain origin and all you really need to know is that it will let you wander Hogwarts with impunity, with of course, a little discretion on your part, of course...”

“What the Headmaster means to say,” Snape cut in again and Harry felt another small surge of relief that the Potions Master was being so uncharacteristically disrespectful towards Dumbledore – Snape didn’t like to be kept in the dark about spells being cast on his person any more than Harry did – “is that the spell in question will not affect us directly, rather the people we come in to contact with. They will remember seeing us, interacting with us, yet not our names, our features, nor our words to them once we have returned from whence we came. This spell is particularly useful in botched Time-Turner accidents and for gathering information... which you should already know, Potter, seeing as I am well aware it was on the Defence Against the Dark Arts syllabus for the first week of term.”

Harry sulkily looked down at his shoes under the force of Snape’s glare, mumbling almost inaudibly, “Well, you know our Defence teacher’s rubbish this year.”

A corner of Snape’s mouth turned up. “A fair point. I shall be sure to instruct you in the Curse after we return you’d better be prepared to listen, Potter.”

“All settled then?” Dumbledore’s bright and cheery voice dispelled the tension in the room. At Harry’s nod, he directed Snape and Harry to the centre of the room. “Won’t take a minute!”

Dumbledore waved his wand in a large, looping motion, indicating the pair of them, all the while muttering in Latin. As the magic sunk into Harry’s skin, a few of the quiet words registered in his tired brain, such as occultus... specalis... oblivisci. He would have panicked at the last one if he hadn’t already known that Dumbledore wouldn’t intentionally harm him... as well as the fact that Snape didn’t seem worried in the slightest.

“All done.” Dumbledore clapped his hands, making Harry jump as he was violently dislodged from his drowsing thoughts. “Now why don’t you six all run along? You look asleep on your feet, Harry. Severus, if you could stay behind so I could have a word...?”

The worry came back and hit Harry full force as he realised he would have to be separated from Snape – his only link back to his own time – and what’s more, he would be sharing a dorm with the four boys in front of him; one of whom he’d never met, another who he wished he never had, one he cared for dearly, and one who had once been his mentor. And Lily – there was another matter entirely. She’d spent the whole time in the office avoiding his gaze or pretending he didn’t exist, and the sense of foreboding and hurt was growing stronger in the pit of Harry’s stomach the longer she did so.

Overwhelmed, tired and confused, he turned to Snape, hoping the man would be able to help, would have some kind of answer as to why something like this had happened to him – them – yet again.

Snape sneered and gave a curt nod. “Go along, then,” he snapped, and strangely, Harry felt his spirits sag even further. He turned towards the door, which James was holding open, only to be stopped by the sudden clearing of a throat. “And, Potter?”

Harry looked back and met Snape’s black eyes without flinching. “Yes, sir?”

Snape abruptly turned and glared ferociously at the nearby portrait of a past Headmistress, who looked vaguely offended. “Be careful,” came his curt reply before he turned and proceeded to ignore Harry completely.

Harry felt his lips turn up in a slight smile. “Yes, sir. Goodnight.” He nodded to both the Professors before ducking out of the office, his heart lighter already.

Harry ran down the staircase, ignoring the Marauders behind him in his hoped to catch up with Lily, who was already at the bottom. Here it was, the perfect chance to get to know his parents and already one of them seemed less than impressed with him. He had to know why.

“Hey, umm, Lily...?” It felt weird to call her that, but she stopped readily enough and turned to face him from where she stood just beside the stone gargoyle. She did not, however, say a word instead simply looking at him as if he were something to assess.

“Err, hi.” Harry smiled shyly and stuck his hand out to her. “I’m Harry, well you probably already heard, but I thought I’d introduce myself properly seeing as...”

The words ‘seeing as I’m your son’ refused to come.

Lily’s face softened a little, and she looked as though she was about to say something, when something behind Harry caught her eye and her face froze into its impassive expression once more.

“Oi, Evans!” Harry heard James Potter call out. “All right?”

Lily’s mouth thinned to an invisible line, her expression making her look so remarkably like Petunia when Harry had done something else wrong that he almost took a step back. Without saying a word, Lily turned and strode off down the corridor at a fast pace, not looking back once; not at James... nor at Harry.

She hates him.

The realisation caused a peculiar ache in Harry’s chest.

Lily hates him. I thought they loved each other. Everyone said they loved each other...

He took a glance at James, who looked remarkably unconcerned and seemingly unaware of the bombshell that had rocked Harry’s perspective of what the world was – what he thought it had been – once again.

“Hey, don’t mind her.” James slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders and steered him down the corridor. “Evans is always like that.”

“Yeah, ‘cos she thinks you’re conceited, mate,” Sirius added, ducking James’s friendly swat at his head.

“Shut up, Padfoot!” James said, then laughed.

Harry looked at them all with amazement. Out of Snape’s bitter stare they all seemed in much higher spirits, and now that Harry was no longer associated with Snape in their mind, they were treating him well too. He still wasn’t sure whether or not to dismiss James’s nastiness to Snape, but then, it could have been a simple case of Snape constantly antagonising the Marauders. After all, the man never did realise when he pushed too far and Harry couldn’t see him being any different as a teenager either.

“So what do you say?”

James slight squeeze caused Harry to look up at the taller boy. “Say to what?”

“To becoming a Marauder of course!” James crowed. “Come on, you’re practically one already!”

Harry felt his mouth stretching into a smile as he glanced around their faces. Tonight, even Pettigrew didn’t look that bad; the boy was smiling happily and reminded him strangely of Neville. “Umm, yeah sure.” Then, with more enthusiasm, “That sounds great!”

Fred and George will be mad with envy if... when I get back.

Sirius came up from behind and bumped his shoulder. “Bet you know all about us, eh, Prongslet?”

“Yeah, I think I know pretty much everything...” Harry trailed off, staring at Sirius.

Wait a minute. Prongslet?!!

“Don’t you dare!” Harry growled as he rounded on Sirius, not sure if he should start laughing in amusement, or scowling in ridicule. “I’m not, nor ever will be a Prongslet!”

The Marauders fell about laughing; James and Sirius throwing back their heads and laughing aloud while Peter snickered in the background. Even Lupin had to stop walking to clutch his sides.

“You sh-should have seen your face!” Sirius howled, sounding more like the huge, black dog he transformed into than ever. “Utterly priceless!”

“Yeah, well...” Harry pushed away from James and pretended to sulk, but he couldn’t stop a large grin spreading across his face. He was really here! Really back in time with the Marauders, and what’s more, he had a whole week to spend with them. “As long as it’s not cute, I suppose I can leave it up to you... No.” He glared at Sirius. “You’re not calling me ‘Prongsling’ either.”

“Hey, Prongs,” a soft voice called. “Why don’t we use...?” Lupin made a vague hand motion that seemed to make absolute sense to everyone else apart from Harry.

Completely baffled, he stared at Lupin, hoping to receive an explanation. The other boy just smiled enigmatically and continued down the corridor to the Fat Lady. “We’ll explain when in the dorm and don’t have unwanted eavesdroppers,” Lupin explained, pointing at the wall in front of them. “The password is ‘Troglodyte’.”

As the Fat Lady’s portrait swung obligingly forward Harry noticed, possibly for the first time, how all the portraits in the vicinity were staring at them with masked curiosity, some being more overt about it than others.

No wonder Dumbledore knows everything that goes on in the castle.

Harry scrambled through the portrait hole... and immediately tried to duck behind James. As stupid as it sounded, he had completely forgotten there would be other people in the Common Room – all of whom were currently staring at him in disbelieving amazement. Harry cursed the fact that the spell Dumbledore had put on him wouldn’t come into effect until a week had passed. What he wouldn’t give to have all of these people forget he’d ever been there!

“Hey, everyone!” His would-be father seemed to have no compunctions about being stared at and cheerfully Harry to the front, despite the other boy’s attempts to stay behind him. “I’d like you all to meet Harry Potter, he’s going to be staying with us for a while!”

Those in the room gaped at the two Potters, evidently not able to credit what they were seeing. Harry closed his eyes and prayed that he was somewhere, anywhere, else.

Then someone, Harry didn’t know who, piped up, “This isn’t another prank of yours is it, James?”

“Certainly not!” And suddenly, James had launched into a full explanation of what had happened, adding details here, exaggerating there until it sounded like Harry Potter, brave adventurer, had decided to go back in time to visit his parents when they were young, only to be caught by evil Snape – who had somehow tricked Dumbledore into making him a Professor – who had ended up falling through a magical time vortex with Harry.

Now it was Harry who was the one gaping as the entire Common Room listened closely to every word that came out of James’s mouth. Some were even stealing astonished, or admonishing, glances at Harry and Harry couldn’t think of a single thing to say to counter the flow of words, especially now that Sirius had joined in the description. He felt like the rug had been pulled out from underneath him – again – as he listened to such blatant embellishment.

Suddenly someone’s hand grabbed his wrist and began to tug him through the room. Harry stumbled, almost falling and tried to pull away before realising the person who had his arm was none other than Pettigrew.

What the hell is he doing?

Suddenly, a horrible thought occurred to Harry.

He... he isn’t a Death Eater already, is he? But then, what would he want with me? Voldemort has no idea who I am yet!

Before he had opportunity to work himself up any further, Harry had been pulled into the boys’ stairwell and his wrist was released. Pettigrew turned back and smiled wanly at him before beckoning him further up the stairs. Intrigued despite himself, Harry followed. The boy in front of him was acting nothing like the pathetic coward he had met on the same night he met Sirius, nor the fanatical Death Eater when Voldemort had been resurrected. In fact, Pettigrew seemed as normal as any fifteen year old boy could be.

After about two dozen steps, Pettigrew reached a dorm door and pushed it open, Harry followed him in and after some more silent gesturing, shut the door behind him.

Pettigrew sighed in relief as he flopped down on one of the four-posters. “I hate it when those two start doing that,” he commented blandly enough, but Harry could sense the real emotion behind his words.

Intrigued despite himself, Harry settled down on the adjacent bed. “What do you mean?”

Pettigrew shrugged, face flushing slightly as he looked down and started to fiddle with the sole of his shoe. “Dunno. Draw attention when they’re lying, I guess. When they take it too far. Makes the rest of us look stupid. I could tell you hated it too.”

Pettigrew’s tone was almost accusing and Harry found himself staring, unable to stop as he began to see Pettigrew in an entirely new light; just a few minor changes to his looks and personality and Harry would have been looking at Neville. The realisation caused a very unpleasant clench in Harry’s stomach as his perspective shifted.

“Err, yeah. Yeah. I always hate it when people stare at me for no good reason.”

Harry let out a sigh as Pettigrew relaxed, though he couldn’t help but wonder what precisely had been the point when this normal enough teenager had turned into the man he had been in Harry’s time. Maybe the process had already begun... Harry shivered at that thought.

“So, uh, are they like that a lot?”

Pettigrew gave a small smile. “Nah, not always. Most of the time they’re brilliant!” Pettigrew’s face lit up and became more animated. “They’re really cool and always letting me ’n Remus join in on stuff they won’t let anyone else do! And we always do loads of pranks that are really funny, like last month, they...”

Harry sat back and let the words wash over him, smiling and nodding in all the right places. This boy in front of him was the child he had overheard Madam Rosmerta talking about in his third year. This was the boy who would never even dream of betraying James Potter, and at this moment in time Harry was finding it very hard to hate him.

The dormitory door burst open, startling Pettigrew enough to make him fall off the bed with an alarmed squeak as a rowdy James and Sirius stumbled into the room, followed by a half-stern, half-amused Lupin.

“Ha! Did you see them all?” Sirius said loudly as he threw himself on his bed. “They believed every word!”

“Really, Padfoot,” Remus sighed, giving Harry a long-suffering look. “How many times have I told you that lying causes more trouble in the long-run?”

“So what?” James snorted and starting rummaging through his trunk. “It was completely hilarious, wasn’t it? Why should anyone care what’s true and what’s not? Hey, Harry!” he shouted over, stopping his search for a moment. “You’re already a celebrity here. Wouldn’t be surprised if people start asking for your autograph!”

Harry winced and hid his head in his hands. “I hope not,” he groaned quietly.

James heard him though and came over, tipping a rather large armload of chocolate frogs into a surprised Harry’s lap. “Why not?”

Harry looked up and watched, fascinated, as a crease appeared between the other boy’s brows, the same way it did for Harry whenever he was puzzling over something. “I... Loads of people think they know me before they’ve even met me in my time, like,” Harry laughed derisively, “like a celebrity. I had hoped to get away from that here.”

And away from the memories...

James frowned for another moment before his expression brightened considerably. “All right, then! Anyone tries to pester you and they’ll have us to deal with! Anyone starts acting stupidly, we’ll hex them so badly they won’t be able to find their ar-” Lupin cleared his throat loudly, “-elbow with both hands. Yeah?”

Harry blinked, stunned, and glanced over at the others, who were nodding determinedly and then back at James. Ron and Hermione always stuck by him when the rest of the general populace started being too idiotic, but they never acted like they could stop any rumours before they started...

Harry felt a huge grin spread across his face. “Thanks. That would be great!” He bit into a chocolate frog and munched happily. His stay in the past already seemed to be looking up...

Blearily, Harry rubbed his eyes and reached blindly for the place where he normally kept his glasses on the side table. Slipping them on, he sat up and glanced around the familiar surroundings of his four-poster with the curtains closed.

Better wake Ron up now. Heaven knows how long it will take otherwise.

Stumbling out of bed, he slowly walked over to the four-posted next to his... and got the shock of his life.

His own head was lying on the pillow.

With a muffled yell, Harry leapt backwards, got his feet tangled in someone’s clothes and fell to the floor with a loud thump.

“Huh? Wass’happenin’?” The boy in the bed opened brown eyes and started searching for his glasses like Harry had done only minutes before. Similar noises of unwilling people being disturbed from their sleep could be heard from the other beds as well.

The boy – James, Harry remembered – squinted down at Harry, who was lying tangled on the floor. “Huh? All right, Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice was shaky, “Jus’ forgot about what happened, is all.”

James smirked. “Idiot,” he muttered cheerfully before settling back into his bed with a sigh, evidently preparing to go to sleep again.

“Oh no you don’t, James.” Lupin walked over and yanked the covers off the bed. Somehow, implausibly, Lupin was already dressed. “We have class in half an hour and I don’t to wait forever for you to get your sorry hide out of bed.”

“Remus!” James whined, trying to curl up in a ball. “Trying to sleep!”

“Up! Before I use Aguamenti on you.” Lupin raised his wand threateningly.

“Fine!” James rolled out of bed and onto the floor with a muffled thump.

That seemed to satisfy Lupin, who turned away to face the remaining two beds. “The same goes for you too, Sirius, Peter.”

Soft curses met these words but Harry noticed, with no small amount of amusement, that neither of them tried to defy this demand.

“Well.” Lupin turned to Harry and gave a benign smile that had become so familiar during his third year. “I have to go and make sure the younger years are up. Want to come?”

“Err,” Harry said, remembering what James had said about him probably being viewed as a ‘celebrity’. “Thanks but no thanks, Prof... err, Lupin. Moony,” he corrected at Lupin’s reproving look. “See you in a while.”

Lupin smiled again and walked out of the door, leaving Harry to stumble through getting up while thinking about the impossibility of somehow being in 1975. It was not a comfortable thing to think about at eight o’clock in the morning.

Bet Snape doesn’t have to get up and have to face PEOPLE this morning. Lucky git. But, of course, he’s down in the dungeons, conducting RESEARCH and probably doesn’t have to show his face even once all week. Whereas I, yet again, have to face being stared at for the whole time I’m here.

Harry sighed, realising that his inner rant wasn’t helping matters much and glanced over to where the others were almost ready as well, thankful that they didn’t look anymore awake than Harry felt.

“Come on,” James muttered, a huge yawn splitting the middle of his statement. “We’ve got to get down to breakfast now, ‘else they’ll be nothing left.”

Sleepily falling in to line behind James, Harry walked down to the slowly filling Common Room and out the Fat Lady’s portrait. All the way down to breakfast, Harry could feel eyes on him, but a few choice glares from James and Sirius stopped anyone from approaching or whispering within earshot. Harry was definitely starting to enjoy being an honorary Marauder.

The Great Hall became significantly quieter when they entered, but still no one approached, and Lupin had even managed to save them a seat away from everyone else, so when they sat down to eat, the mutterings though present were not decipherable and Harry was able to eat his bacon and eggs in peace. He missed Ron and Hermione already, but his future father and friends had already proved to be more than adequate company.

He spotted Lily down the table and waved, but she seemed to be deliberately avoiding his gaze and didn’t look up once. Harry sighed and went back to his breakfast, pretending not to feel unhappy.

He only became aware of the conversation around him when Sirius ducked his head and muttered, “Any minute now,” under his breath. Harry sat up straighter as he suddenly noticed all four of the Marauders were stealing surreptitious glances at the staff table. There was a loud shriek just as Harry turned his head in time to see a teacher staring in horror at her skin, which was completely bright-green.

“Yes!” Sirius and James hive-fived over the table while Pettigrew snorted in the background, none of them caring one jot about the bilious teacher glaring at them.

“That’s Professor Cassidy, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Lupin murmured lightly, voice trembling in suppressed amusement. “She doesn’t like us much.”

“Really?” Harry muttered back dryly, watching Dumbledore chuckle as he restored the Professor’s colouring. Snape didn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. “I wonder why.”

At that moment, Dumbledore rose to his feet and clapped his hands, immediately causing silence to fall across the Great Hall. “Good morning, everyone! I have a couple of notices this morning which must have just slipped my mind last night.” Several students laughed. “Now, dungeon five has finally been restored to its former colour and will be open for those who wish to practice extra potions. I have been asked to remind you that fluorescent yellow is not a preferred colour for a dungeon wall and could the perpetrators desist from decorating in future.”

Dumbledore twinkled at the Marauders over the now openly laughing students and Harry found himself laughing as well, imagining Snape’s face if such a prank had been carried out in his dungeons.

“On our next note, James Potter’s future son and a thirty five year old Severus Snape have accidently travelled back in time and will be staying with us for the coming week. Oh! And our school caretaker, Argus Filch, has reminded me to let you know that while corporal punishment is no longer permitted here, cleaning the dungeon floor with a toothbrush can be harrowing and painful, so please refrain from filling his office with dungbombs for the foreseeable future. Now, I think that is all. Off you chop and fill your heads with knowledge! Don’t worry; I’m sure it will have left again by the time evening is upon us!”

Dumbledore sat down again and promptly began to read the Daily Prophet as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Harry stared at him in the complete silence following his announcement, as dumbfounded as the rest of the school. He vaguely noticed that even the teachers were staring in disbelief.

Well, at least some things never change...

“Still mad, then?” Harry muttered faintly under his breath.

“Oh, undoubtedly,” Sirius said cheerily, grinning at the gobsmacked expressions of everyone in the room. “Pass the bacon, would you?”

Fingers numb, Harry did precisely what he was told, vaguely wondering if he should wave, now that the entire school save Dumbledore had turned their attention to him instead.

“See? It’s not so bad,” Sirius commented as they walked down to the dungeons. Amazingly, nobody seemed to want to approach the Marauders directly, despite the fact that Harry really was a time-traveller – confirmed by Dumbledore don’t ya know – because apparently, anyone who got on the wrong side of the Marauders suffered semi-permanent side-effects. Harry still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand, it was to his benefit, but on the other, it didn’t really seem all that fair to someone who was just curious...

Shrugging, he settled outside the Potions classroom with the other four, glancing around at his ‘class-mates’ with interest. Nothing seemed to have changed much over the coming twenty years; the Slytherins were still glaring and the Gryffindor girls were still giggling and sneaking glances.

Why couldn’t Snape and I just have taken Polyjuice and Obliviate everyone who saw us? Damn Dumbledore!

Harry immediately felt guilty about his thoughts and tried to shut out the little voice that seemed to want to grumble about his situation as much as possible. After all, this was a once in a lifetime chance to learn about his parents and their friends.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius muttered. “Look who’s here.” He pointed down the corridor leading deeper into the dungeons, where a skinny, black-haired boy was leaning against a wall, large nose buried deeply in a book. With a thrill of shock, Harry realised the boy was none other than Snape.

Before he could stop them, James and Sirius were striding towards young Snape. All the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck rose as he watched them go to stand on either side of the smaller boy.

No, don’t...!

James snatched the book out of Snape’s hands and squinted at the title. “What’cha readin’, Snivellus?”

“None of your business, Potter!” the boy snarled as he made a grab for the book, greasy hair swinging in ratty strings around his face.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Sirius grabbed Snape’s bony shoulder and pushed him back against the wall, pinning him down. “We still haven’t got you back from the time you ratted us out to Filch.”

Young Snape’s eyes darted frantically around the small space, looking for a way out, and they settled on Harry, who was too stunned to move. The boy’s face stretched into a sneer. “Well, well. It seems that Potter ended up spawning. Such a pity he couldn’t have made a better contribution.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that, Snivellus?” James snarled, golden sparks flying from the end of his wand as he stepped back and pulled it out. “Who asked for your opinion anyway?”

“It’s not as if any normal person would ask him for it!” Sirius said and laughed; the sound cold and harsh in the darkness of the dungeons. He roughly released Snape and pulled out his own wand. “Feeling lonely were you, Snivelly?”

Harry could only stare, something cold lodged in his throat and chills running down his spine, as he watched the awkward, gangly boy in front of them, the vicious sneer only partially visible through long strands of greasy hair.

Snape’s wand was out and his eyes were darting to each and every one of the Marauders; James and Sirius, the aggressors; Pettigrew, watching eagerly from the background; Lupin, who seemed determined to appear temporarily blind and deaf; and Harry, who was frozen to the spot. The only thought that seemed to fit in Harry’s head at that moment was how utterly impossible it was for Snape to be a teenager.

Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. You didn’t think he’d just sprung from the ground, did you?

The galling thing was that the answer was yes.

“Expelliarmus!” “Impedimenta!”

Snape managed to dodge the second spell, but his wand fell victim to the first, spinning away through the air to land easily in James’s hand, and the Slytherin boy froze, seemingly in horror, as he realised he was completely at the mercy of the Marauders.

“Now, Padfoot, what shall we do with him?” The same nasty glint was back in James’s eyes that had been there the night before. “Stick his feet to the floor? Transfigure his robes? Or something altogether more entertaining to teach the slimeball a proper lesson?”

Sirius’s laugh was downright malicious this time as he raised his wand and prepared to hex the defenceless Snape. Harry felt anger boil up in his stomach and he scrabbled for his wand, determined to teach Sirius a lesson in humility he wouldn’t forget.

“Sternueremus!”

Snape was suddenly doubled over in a huge sneezing fit which over as quickly as it started, but was strong enough to leave him weak and shaking.

How dare he even think about attacking someone who’s defenceless and outnumbered?

And then Harry saw something that made his blood freeze. There, so far back in the shadows that his form could almost be imagined, was the real Snape, watching the confrontation with all the intensity of a vulture closing in on its meal.

“Stop!” Harry was almost startled at how loudly his voice rang in the narrow corridor but the temper he was in made it easy to ignore. “He’s unarmed and outnumbered, for God’s sake!”

Snatching Snape’s wand out of James’s unresisting hand – ignoring the sharp sting the unknown wand gave him as his fingers came into contact with the wood – Harry crossed the four foot gap between the Marauders and Snape, and shoved the thin stick of wood at the other boy, who immediately grabbed it without a word.

Harry wasn’t expecting thanks, nor did he get any. The younger Snape glared at him with such concentrated hatred that Harry felt himself taking a large step back, wondering what the hell he had done to deserve it this time.

“I don’t need your charity, Potter.” The word was said with as much venom as it had been the first time Snape had called his name from the class register.

Harry said nothing, instead watching the way the Slytherins were looking at Snape with disgust, then at the Gryffindors who seem to have nothing but hatred for the fifteen year old... all save for Lily who stood across from them, pity welling in her eyes. Snape would loath pity and he knew that if the young Snape looked in either Harry’s eyes or his future mother’s, that would be precisely what he would see.

Soft footsteps echoed through the corridor.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Harry closed his eyes as the soft, deadly voice echoed from the shadows, much closer than he could have thought possible.

When did he move?

Snape, however, didn’t spare a second glance for Harry, instead choosing to unleash the full loathing of his gaze on the Marauders. James and Sirius still had their wands in their hands and by the look Snape was giving them, Harry was suddenly very glad he’d never managed to get to his own before he lost his temper.

“Fighting in the corridors is against the rules, Mr Potter, Mr Black. No matter what you might think, you are not exempt from the rules.”

Sirius and James were currently gawping in a very unattractive way, Harry noticed. So were most of the other people in the corridor. Obviously they had heard the Headmaster’s notice at breakfast but had chosen not to properly believe it.

Well, they’re paying for it now.

Realising that young Snape had slid back into the shadows and was watching the scene with a wary eye prompted Harry to do the same. As long as you stayed out of older Snape’s way, you could survive mostly intact. Unless your name was Potter, of course. Luckily, Snape had found a much better target for his unfair discipline methods and that was just fine with Harry.

James finally managed to reclaim his voice after a lot of sputtering, which, in his case, was a very bad idea. “What the hell, Snivellus? Just because you never amounted to anything more than a dried up old schoolteacher doesn’t mean you suddenly have authority over us!”

Harry was hit by the temptation to either put his hand over his eyes and groan aloud or smirk widely at the school bully getting his comeuppance.

You’re not the one with the advantage this time, James.

“Indeed,” Snape whispered softly, the venom in his tone enough to make anyone flinch. “Let us see what you make of this then. Thirty points from Gryffindor for fighting in the corridors. Each.”

“That’s not fair!” Sirius roared. Gesturing towards the place where young Snape was lurking he continued loudly, “He had his wand out as well! And I don’t see you reprimanding him! Though I suppose that would be too Freudian for even you to handle,” he finished with a vindictive drawl.

For God’s sake, Sirius. SHUT UP!

“...and a further twenty points from each of you due to your blatant disrespect of an authority figure,” Snape finished calmly, a nasty smirk hovering around the corners of his mouth.

“But, that’s...” James seemed to have finally grasped the full implications of the situation. “That’s one hundred points from Gryffindor.”

“Well done, Mr Potter,” Snape purred mockingly. “You seem to have grasped the conception of calculation superbly. Now,” he snapped, voice turning harsh again, “another word out of either of you and you will both be receiving detention until you leave this school. Am I... understood?”

James snatched Sirius’s forearm to forestall any further brash comments and nodded tightly.

Sneer curling the edge of his mouth, Snape gestured sharply at the classroom door. “Good. Now get in. All of you!”

A sudden heaviness settled in Harry’s stomach as he realised that it was Snape, and not whoever was the Potions Professor in this time, who would be teaching the class.

Why? I thought he was meant to be working on the antidote.

Warily, he slid into the seat beside Lupin and stared at the back of Snape’s head. Snape remained snidely oblivious as he turned and surveyed the rest of the class.

“Professor Slughorn is temporarily indisposed and as such, I have the dubious pleasure of covering your lesson. Rest assured that any punishments I give out are fully valid and will have yet more serious consequences if ignored. I should hope that take this as fact without having to...” Snape’s eyes slid to James and Sirius, “test it out.”

Harry just gritted his teeth and concentrated on his potion as the lesson started, hoping that Snape wouldn’t revert to his old antagonism towards him in the middle of it.

Lupin was a surprisingly easy partner to work with and, thankfully, Snape seemed determined to ignore Harry’s very existence, instead choosing to demoralise James and Sirius – and sometimes even Pettigrew – at every opportunity. Young Snape stayed quiet but watched everything through an unnerving mask of impassiveness, looking, to Harry, rather like a serpent waiting to strike.

It was not an impression that inspired confidence.

As the end of class approached, and as Harry was slowly beginning to relax into the idea that worst might be over, James finally reached the end of his patience.

“Yeah, that’s right! Lord it over us just so you can comfort yourself with the fact that you’re nothing more than a pathetic bully who...” James continued on, calling Snape every foul name under the sun and Snape just stood there, watching, his face blank, until the boy had finally run out of steam.

Only then did he speak. “Mr Potter.”

The whole class had turned towards the confrontation the minute James had opened his mouth but now they could only sit, frozen. Snape’s mouth was pressed in such a thin line it was completely white and his normally blank eyes were burning with anger.

Young Snape and several other Slytherins unconsciously shifted so that they were closer to the door. Harry would have willingly joined them if it hadn’t been for the fact that Snape was between him and the way out. Instead, he stood his ground and braced for the explosion.

Now he’s in for it...

“My failings?” Snape’s voice was so soft that even James would have had to strain to hear it through the bubble and hiss of boiling cauldrons. “Why should anyone be interested in my failings when yours are so much more spectacular?”

James flinched, evidently despite himself, and gripped the table in front of him tightly as blatantly mesmerised as prey before a deadly snake would be. All Harry knew was that whatever was coming would be big... and he had a terrible feeling that he knew exactly what it was. His throat stretched with the effort to say ‘No!’ but no sound seemed to be able to make its way out.

“At least I wasn’t incompetent enough to get myself killed at the tender age of twenty one along with my young wife.”

The silence in the dungeon was suddenly deafening. James looked like he was going to be sick, Lily was sobbing quietly and Sirius looked ready to commit murder. Even Snape seemed to have realised he’d gone too far.

Harry didn’t even have time to think, he just knew he had to react.

The whole room flinched as a chair crashed loudly to the floor. “You liar!” Harry yelled, voice hoarse with suppressed anger as every grain of respect he’d had for Snape in the past months crumbled.

“You’re lying,” he continued, voice quieter, yet just as intense.

Quick, something, anything I knew about Mum...

“They’re both alive and you know it. Mum’s just published a book on her Charms work, for Merlin’s sake! And Dad’s got a high-paid job at the Ministry. How dare you say that they’re both dead!”

Snape seemed to have caught on quickly enough to Harry’s attempt for covering up his slip. Mouth curling into his customary sneer, he spat out, “I’d hardly call a career as an Auror lucrative. More likely, your father is simply basking in his extremely generous family fortune.”

Unable to think of anything else to say, Harry stood silently, his breath whistling harshly through his teeth as he resisted the urge to scream at Snape for having been so callous.

“Bottle up your potions and leave them – labelled, mind you – on the desk. Then, you may leave. Mr Potter, senior,” Snape flicked a careless finger in James’s direction, “you will report to your Head of House and let her know that you are expected to complete a month’s worth of detention for your continued disrespect.”

It was proof of how shaken James was by Snape’s ‘lie’ that he only managed a weak sneer before he left the classroom. Young Snape seemed to be in turns delighted and worried with the way things had turned out, which only served to fuel Harry’s ire at the one who had started all of this.

“Mr Potter, junior,” Snape continued. “Stay behind.”

Harry sighed heavily and turned back from where he had just been about to escape through the classroom door. Lupin gave him a sympathetic look and pressed a chocolate frog into his pocket when no one was looking. Evidently, even as a boy, he still had the idea that chocolate could solve everything. Harry was still touched by the gesture, though.

Returning to the front of the classroom, Harry stood still, eyes straight ahead and waited as the last few people trickled out of the door. He didn’t look round even when the lock clicked or when Snape started clearing up. In fact, it was only when Snape came and stood directly in front of him that he was forced to move his gaze from a stone in the wall to Snape’s face.

“Mr Potter... Harry.”

Normally Harry would have been gratified to see Snape even a little discomfited but today he was so angry he didn’t care in the slightest.

How could you do that? How could you even think of telling them, let alone saying it out loud? I thought even you would have more common decency than that! More fool I.

“Slughorn, the Professor for this class, will be teaching again after today. Seeing as he knows the layout of the dungeons and the store ingredients in this time better than I, he offered to set up a work room for me in exchange for teaching his classes. Rest assured, I will be working on the reversal potion for us before the day is out.”

Silence. Harry simply stared at Snape, imagining using his pestle to smash in the man’s ridiculous nose while he waited for whatever else he had to say.

“Your timely actions today were... well thought out.”

After what you did, do you really expect me to accept THAT as an apology?

Snape was silent was silent for a moment, almost as if he really had expected an answer to that. The man finally cleared his throat and said, grudgingly, “What I said today was not intentional, nor was the potential damage it might have caused had you not been able to salvage the situation. My... apologies for that.” The last part had almost sounded as if it were painful to say.

Harry met Snape’s blank gaze unflinchingly, feeling his jaw tighten. “With all due respect, sir: fuck you.” He turned and ran for the classroom door, silencing and locking spells crumpling easily before his temper-fuelled wand, and then he was running, running, with no destination in mind, feeling more betrayed than his brain logically thought he had any right to.

“Hey.” Sirius sat down beside him and clapped a hand on his arm as Pettigrew sat down on the other side. “You alright, there?”

Harry gave him a wry smile. “Just peachy, thanks.”

“That Snape,” Sirius sneered viciously, “right bastard he is.”

“Ha!” Harry threw his head back and glared at the ceiling. “You can say that again.”

Pettigrew chuckled weakly. “Snape’s a right bastard,” he muttered, before quickly glancing around as if there was someone besides Moaning Myrtle able to hear them.

Sirius snorted. “And I thought the Snape we have was bad. Looks like some things get worse with age.”

“Yeah,” Harry joked weakly, “like mould.”

Sirius threw his head back with a loud bark of laughter while Pettigrew snickered somewhat nervously. “Never a truer word said. We’ll get him back, mark my words!”

Harry’s smile was stronger this time. When Sirius had hexed the unarmed Snape, Harry had been so angry with him, but that was before he had thought Snape capable of doing what he did... And right now, Harry was prepared to hate Snape just as much as he had before the man had started privately tutoring him.

“How’re we going to do that, then?”

Pettigrew let out a laugh which he immediately tried to cover by putting his hands to his mouth. Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder again, winking conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, James and I have already started cooking something up. I’ll tell you all about it later, but first there’s something we all want to show you. One question though: what’re you doing in a girls’ bathroom?”

“An abandoned girls’ bathroom,” Harry replied, smirking. “No one ever comes in here and...” – he flicked a glance towards the sink – “it brings back a few interesting memories. I felt like being distracted from thinking about the greasy git for a few hours.”

“Ha, greasy git! Good one!” Sirius snorted as he hauled Harry to his feet. Peter got up too and started following them towards the door. “What interesting memories exactly?”

“How about brewing Polyjuice in my second year so that me and my friend could sneak into the Slytherin Common Room.”

“Wow...” Pettigrew gasped. “You brewed Polyjuice?”

“Well... My friend Hermione – she’s the smartest in our year – brewed it while me ’n Ron helped with shredding and stuff. We even stole stuff from Snape’s private store to get it done...”

That line of conversation was enough to carry them all back to the Common Room – Pettigrew and Sirius quizzing him every step of the way – and despite the fact that he was careful not to mention the Basilisk, Harry still felt it was rather imprudent to discuss something so secret in the corridors... not that he could bring himself to care of course.

“Hey, James!” Sirius yelled as soon as they entered the dorm. “Right little rule breaker you’ve got here. Evans would be really unhappy.”

James looked up from a book he was studying and set a phial of blue liquid in its centre. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sirius managed to ruffle Harry’s hair affectionately before he managed to break away from his future godfather’s hold. “Illicit brewing, sneaky plots...”

“Perfect Marauder material!” the two black-haired boys chorused. James laughed and chucked the phial of potion resting on the book at Harry, who easily caught it midair. “Drink half of that. Been working ever since supper on it.”

Harry glanced at the liquid dubiously. “What is it?”

James leaned back and smirked casually. “Drink it and see.”

Harry gave him a sour look. “If I wake up tomorrow covered in yellow tentacles, you’re dead!” All four Marauders opened their mouths to protest, but Harry waved them away, thinking that if you couldn’t trust your parents, you couldn’t trust anyone. “All right, all right! I’m drinking.”

The drink was very warm on its way down and almost immediately he felt a hot tingling spreading the full length of his spine. Lifting his eyes, he looked towards the transfixed Marauders, strangely hearing Snape’s voice in his head telling him what a dunderhead he was for drinking an unknown potion. He easily brushed it aside.

“All right, guys.” He took a deep breath as the tingling hit a new peak. “I’ve drunk it now. What does it do?”

“You’ll see in a minute,” James told him eagerly.

“What...?” Harry gasped and almost blacked out as his whole body fizzed and crumpled simultaneously.

Strangely energised, he opened his eyes and gave a soft cry. Everything was so sharp, so bright! A bright flash distracted him for a moment and he turned towards the huge creatures inhabiting the room with him. A large shape moved towards him and he hissed in anger before realising it was only Boy-Who-Smells-Like-Rat. He blinked in surprise as he realised his thoughts were strangely indistinct.

What on Earth did they do to me?

Large hands closed around him and gently lifted him off the ground before allowing him to settle comfortably on the leather-covered forearm. Fingers stroked the feathers on his chest and he chirred in enjoyment even as his mind raced.

Feathers? What? What AM I?

He shifted uncomfortably as his stronger senses started to pick up on the emotions swirling around him; the one holding him tasted of nervousness and a darker resentment of never-being-good-enough. The dark pelted ones both tasted of excitement but while one seemed completely carefree, the other’s mind wasn’t quite focused on the situation, indicating a suppressed worry about something. And the brown-haired, tired-eyed one...

He shuddered. That one’s scent practically screamed danger.

He hissed again and ruffled his feathers, confusion filling his mind about what on Earth he could be. Yes, the emotions, or moods, he’d sensed were something he would have picked up on in his human form, but now they were so much sharper, clearer, and his mind was focusing on them as if his life depended on it.

Wait a minute... Human form?

Before he could get much further with his reasoning, the world changed again and he fell to the floor with a heavy thump. His senses dwindled until he was just Harry once again, breathing in the dusty air of the dorm carpet. Conversely, his brain seemed to fill with extra, almost needless thoughts and he gasped as his reasoning returned.

“You... you...” He scrambled to his feet and turned towards James. “Did that potion just turn me into an Animagus?”

James laughed loudly. “Not quite. It’s the starter potion to show you what shape you have. From here on in, it’d be a whole ton of Transfiguration work to become an actual Animagus.”

“Yeah.” Sirius leaned against his bed while vigorously shaking a square of card as if to cool it. It looked suspiciously like a developed photograph. “Took us three years to actually change into our animal forms without any outside help.”

Harry resisted the urge to say only three years? and climbed shakily to his feet. Lupin hurried forward to help him and Harry almost flinched as an echo of the bird’s fear resounded through him. However, it was fairly easy to overcome.

“Thanks, Moony. So, what was I?”

“Ta da!” Sirius brandished the card, thus confirming it was indeed a photo, in front of Harry’s nose. “Fantastic shot, don’t you think? Should be marked to go down in history.”

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes as soon as he caught a glance of the cross-eyed kestrel, which was clearly the subject of the shot, blinking in evident confusion. “Oh, yes. Brilliant.” Then, unable to help himself he took the photo from Sirius and had a closer look. The kestrel was looking less cross-eyed, but was still visibly confused. “This... this was really me?”

“Yep!” James said cheerfully, leaning over his shoulder to get a closer look. “You must be a really great flyer if you got a kestrel for an Animagus. Good on ya!”

“I’m... not bad, yeah,” Harry agreed, flushing at the praise.

“So,” Sirius started, his tone suddenly weighted down by mock-seriousness, “the potion of animal wisdom hath spoken! What shall we call this latest Marauder to truly induct him to our order?”

The gravity of the situation was almost immediately broken by James shouting, “Shut up, Sirius, you prat!” and tussling him to the floor, but the sentiment remained the same.

“How about ‘Windhover’?” Lupin asked quietly. “Kestrels are sometimes known as that in certain parts of the country.”

“The Moony hath spoken!” Sirius yelled, arm flailing widely as he tried to throw James off. “I dub thee, ‘Windhover’!” He reached over to touch Harry on the shoulder, but ended up whacking him in the forehead as James yanked him back again.

Harry didn’t mind. He was laughing too much to really care.

“Well, at least it’s better than Prongslet,” Harry muttered after everyone had calmed down again, shooting a dark glance in Sirius’s direction. “I’ll tell Snape you tried to steal ingredients if you ever call me that again.”

Sirius’s eyes went huge. “Oi! That’s not playing fair!”

“Nope,” Harry said cheerfully. “But it’ll stop you from calling me that again, won’t it?”

There was a lot of grumbling from Sirius’s general direction which Harry decided to take as a yes. “So, what’re going to do to get back at the lying git?” Harry could feel his temper rising from merely remembering what Snape had said. He shoved it back and turned to James. “Sirius said you had something in mind?”

James’s face paled a little as worry started to crease his forehead. “Listen, Harry,” he murmured softly, seriously. “Was what you said really the truth? Was Snape really lying?”

Harry felt a sharp pain constrict his throat and he suddenly found it very difficult to force words out past the lump in it. Only his fury at Snape, which had increased tenfold the moment he glimpsed the insecurity in James’s face, made him able to speak at all. “Of course he was lying!” he snarled, temper thick in his tone.

“You an’ Mum are alive and well and probably worried sick for me right about now.” His throat closed tighter, but he forced himself to go on, feeling strangely protective about his father’s innocence of the horrors ahead. “Besides, why would Snape say that stuff about Aurors being rubbish if it weren’t a lie to start with? It’s not like Snape would try to cover up to protect our feelings!”

James’s expression cleared, a huge grin splitting his features. “Yeah! Yeah, ‘course! It’s not like Snape would ever do anything but try to make us miserable. Slimy bastard.”

Sirius’s expression was almost feral. “We need to do something that’ll really teach him a lesson.”

“Nothing dangerous!” Harry and Lupin snapped almost simultaneously before giving each other sheepish grins.

“We don’t want detention, do we?” Harry continued. “Besides, they’re pranks; they’re meant to be funny, so no humiliation either,” he said firmly, giving them all a stern look. “We can still drive him mad, but the last thing we want is a Snape with good grounds for retaliation. He can do much worse than us ‘cos he’s a teacher. So, be careful!”

Lord, I sound like Hermione. Ha! As if Hermione would ever willingly participate in this.

“That’s another thing,” – Sirius was scowling at him, which couldn’t be good – “when we were sorting Snape out earlier, you gave him his wand back! What the hell was that about?”

Harry sighed and fought the urge to cradle his head in his hands. “Have you ever tried sneezing with broken ribs?” Harry had once and he never wanted to repeat the experience.

Four brows wrinkled in confusion. “But Snape doesn’t have broken ribs...” Sirius paused and then added uncertainly, “Does he?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Not as far as I know, but that’s not the point!” He leaned forward and looked at them all intently. “If Snape had had broken ribs this morning, he would have been in agony by the time the spell ended. In fact, if someone’s ribs are broken badly enough and they have a sneezing fit, one of the ribs could end up piercing the lung and killing that person!” He was pretty certain that was true. He’d heard it on the telly once while he was still stuck in his cupboard.

Still, even if it wasn’t true, it sounded authentic enough and that was all Harry needed. The Marauders were all looking green.

“Err, so no sneezing fits. Got it,” Sirius nodded sharply and Harry almost snickered aloud at his quick capitulation.

“OK,” Harry said, glad he’d managed to at least teach one of them some sense. For now. “Any other ideas of what we can do?”

“A few,” James said, rallying. “But we already have,” he winked at Pettigrew, Lupin and Sirius, “plans for tomorrow; and then it’s the full moon on Sunday night” – Lupin smiled wanly – “but after that we can begin working on what to do with Snape.”

“Or, in other words, setting into motion The Great Campaign of ‘Getting Snape’,” Sirius agreed.

“And I thought you were strange when you were an adult,” Harry muttered, smirking.

“Oi! Keep going on like that and we’ll never tell you about the food fight we’ve got planned for tomorrow lunch!”

“Food fight?” Despite himself, Harry perked up with interest. “What food fight?”

“Ah, alas!” Sirius yelled over James’s attempt at explanation. “I have divulged the plan! Too soon! Too soon!”

“Err...” Harry frantically glanced around at the other Marauders, “Is it just me, or is he getting even weirder?”

Lupin sighed. “He gets like this, sometimes. You just have to ignore him. Mostly.”

“Hmph.”

“There, see? He’s sulking now.”

“Now, back to the Fantastic Food Fight!”

“I spoke too soon,” Lupin muttered despondently, causing Harry to snort with barely concealed laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much carefree fun. Sure, Voldemort was still out there, but he wasn’t Harry’s concern anymore. Not in this time.

In fact, his high spirits lasted all the way through the remainder of the evening. After Sirius had explained their Plan for the upcoming, grand food fight, they all snuck down to the kitchens for food; second supper for the Marauders and – at the others’ insistence – a veritable feast for Harry, who hadn’t had the heart to go down to either lunch or supper.

The House Elves outdid themselves as usual and the five boys stumbled back to the dorm stuffed and happy, their pockets laden with sticky cakes for later... or possibly even for breakfast.

It was only when Harry was lying alone in his bunk, listening to the peaceful, steady breathing of the others, that he had to fight the sharp sting at the back of his eyes as he remembered that within a mere twenty years’ time, one of the occupants of the room would be dead, another would be half mad from an unjust incarceration, one would be traitor to them all and the last would end up lonely and downtrodden, struggling to find work in even the simplest of professions.

And at that moment, Harry’s own future didn’t look much better than theirs.

“Psst, Prongs... Prongs!” The bespectacled boy didn’t turn around and Harry had to hide snickers behind his fork at Sirius’s unsuccessful attempts to gain the other boy’s attention. Sirius eventually gave up and chucked a bread roll at James’s head. “Oi!”

“Huh?” James turned round and blinked owlishly, his hair looking messier than ever. “Thought we weren’t starting ‘til pudding.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and used his wand to retrieve the errant bread roll. “I just wanted to say get ready.” He cast a shifty look at the staff table. “Snape the elder has ascended from the depths and we need this to start quickly if it has any chance of being a success.”

James cast a glance up at the Head Table – where Snape was looking just as nasty as usual – gave a thumbs up, and turned back to trying to get Lily’s attention, who was currently having none of it.

Sirius cast his eyes to heaven. “Why is no one taking this seriously? There hasn’t been a truly successful food fight at Hogwarts in over thirty years!”

Harry quickly covered up his laughter up with a cough and patted Sirius on the arm. “Don’t worry, Padfoot. We’re taking this seriously, we’re just... err... acting casual.”

Lupin dropped his fork and doubled over, almost shaking with laughter. To be honest, Sirius’s enthusiasm was pretty amusing; the boy was practically squirming in his seat, rather like an over-excited puppy, easily alerting the teachers to the fact that the Marauders had something planned.

Once glance at Snape was all it took to see that he at least was on full alert for ridiculous pranks. Gathering all his courage, Harry met the man’s eyes and glared, receiving a vicious glare back for his efforts. But then, amazingly, Snape’s gaze dropped and slid away... at exactly the same moment that the first course melted away into pudding on the four House tables.

“Now!” Harry hissed, eyes still fixed on Snape while his hands reached for whatever was nearest. “Do it now!”

“Right you are, Windhover!” Sirius replied jovially before hurling a jam tart with such force that it splattered the full width of the Hufflepuff table opposite.

There was a moment of delicious stillness as those nearest all turned and stared at the still grinning Sirius, who even had the gall to casually lean back and cheerfully say, “Oops!”

And then James leapt onto the table with a shout and used his wand to send a whole tureen of custard over to the Slytherin table, where it obligingly dumped itself over their heads.

Suddenly the air was full of flying food. Most of it was chucked at the Marauders, who gleefully retaliated in kind, but some puddings flew wide, splattering innocent people and causing them to get their own back on whichever unfortunate person had such atrocious aim. And within seconds what had previously been a peaceful Saturday lunch, descended into complete and utter pandemonium.

Most girls were screaming about their hair and running for the exits, but a fair few were also joining in – some even going so far to band together and gang up on certain boys. James Potter was one of these unfortunates.

Harry didn’t care; he was having the time of his life. Ducking and diving to avoid whatever food product was coming his way, he kept grabbing the puddings that were closest and chucking them into various knots of people with surprising accuracy. It didn’t matter that he kept slipping on the sticky floor, it didn’t matter that most of the teachers were screaming at them to stop – Dumbledore was just sitting in his chair and laughing, his beard half-covered in an errant cherry pie – all that mattered was making sure that the fun continued as long as possible. And getting as much of the Great Hall plastered in foodstuffs as they could, of course.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and this particular display was quickly put to an end by an irate McGonagall and an amused Flitwick casting a weather charm that immediately soaked the student population to the skin.

Harry panted heavily, glancing forlornly at the huge cream cake he’d managed to get his hands on seconds before. It was a bit soggy, but would still have made a more than adequate missile. He was about to put it down when a pincer-like grip suddenly closed around his other arm.

Crying out in shock, Harry looked up, right into the face of a furious Snape who was, miraculously, completely clean.

“What were you thinking, indulging in this foolishness? You are supposed to be setting an example!” the apparition hissed venomously. “Remind me to assign you two months worth of detention once we return to our own time for orchestrating this farce!”

Harry tried to tune out the vicious words and the hypocrisy in them and, in doing so, caught a glimpse of young Snape watching them and frowning from over adult Snape’s shoulder. The boy’s robes were still a complete mess but he didn’t make a move to correct them, seemingly content to stand and watch Harry with a pensive expression. And then... young Snape’s gaze briefly dropped to the cake in Harry’s hand before returning to his face. A single eyebrow arched and Harry struggled to keep a grin off his face.

Why not? It’s not like I’ll EVER get another chance like this one...

Returning his gaze to Snape’s outraged expression, Harry let the smile out... and brought his arm around in a wide arc, which ended in the cream cake landing with a loud splat on Snape’s face.

The grip on his arm loosened in shock and Harry was off running without even a second glance at the funniest sight he had ever laid eyes on. He didn’t see the Professor scrape the food from his face and send a murderous glare at Harry’s back. Nor did he look back and see Lily Evans walk up to the laughing young Snape and scold him for making such a mess of his only set of robes.

Harry didn’t stop running until he was a good way around the lake. Only then did he double over, hands on his knees, and laugh until he thought he’d fall over. The look on Snape’s face as the cake had headed towards it was worth all the detentions in the world and the outlet of his anger against the man had felt utterly brilliant.

Harry briefly thought about suggesting to the Headmaster of his time that a good way to deal with students’ anger at Snape would be to line them up and have them chuck various food products at him and started laughing again.

Eventually, he managed to calm himself enough to catch a breath and cast a wary eye at the castle as he sank down onto the grass verge by the water. You never knew with Snape – the man could appear out of nowhere.

He shivered slightly in the chilly, October air but immediately perked up as he saw three familiar teenagers making their way towards him, waving madly. Sitting up straight, he waved back and within minutes they were beside him, panting and laughing, their breath making steamy clouds billow out in the chilly air around them all.

“That,” James stated emphatically, “was the most brilliant thing I have ever seen!”

The rat James was holding twisted out of his grasp and transformed into Pettigrew, who was almost doubled over with laughter. “Did you. See. His face!”

“Yeah! Nice one, Windhover!” Sirius threw his head back and let out a bark-like laugh. “If only we had had a camera!” Slowly, smirking, he drew said camera from his robes with one hand and a set of photographs with the other. “Seeing as we’ll be forced to forget about you by the end of the week, I think you should have these.” Sirius handed the pictures over, sending Harry into fits as he looked through them all.

Lupin was trying to look disapproving, but judging by the way his lips kept attempting to turn up at the corners, he had enjoyed it just as much. “What happened to your ‘don’t humiliate Snape in public rule?”

Harry snorted and lay back in the grass, staring up at the pale, grey sky just as a shaft of sunlight broke free and lit the other side of the lake. “It was worth it! Have you any idea how many hours I have sat in that bastard’s class wanting to throw something at him? Definitely worth it.” Truth be told, Harry was starting to feel a little guilty about what he’d done – not to mention nervous about the consequences – but the feeling of satisfaction still outweighed the bad, making Harry more than willing to brush it aside. For now.

Sirius laughed again and leapt to his feet from where he had been crouching by the water’s edge. “C’mon, everyone! Let’s sneak into Hogsmeade. Everyone up at the castle will be looking for us so they can put us in detention” – Sirius made a face – “so we might as well stay out of everyone’s way for a while.”

“Uh... Padfoot?” Lupin was looking towards the castle with a very grim expression.

“Yeah, Moony?”

“We may have to delay the trip out... until another time.”

“What? Oh, drat!”

McGonagall was striding towards them, forbidding expression already clearly visible on her face. Harry felt his heart sink; something told him they wouldn’t be able to get away this time...

Hours later, arms and legs aching from kneeling and scrubbing the floor of the Great Hall, the five boys stumbled back to the Tower and fell into bed. The teachers had ended up setting extra essays for the rest of the student population who had participated in the fight – after all, the House points system would have been rendered completely useless, and there weren’t enough teachers to supervise all the detentions needed, so essays had been essential – but for the instigators, they had decided that they alone would be the ones to clean up the mess.

They had been allowed to stop at six for supper – everyone else received theirs in the Common Rooms – though after that, it had been straight back to work.

It was all rather unfair in Harry’s opinion – they’d only started the fight, not caused the majority of the mess. Luckily, Dumbledore seemed to share this outlook when had wandered past the Great Hall at about midnight; a convenient fifteen minutes after McGonagall had turned in for the night. With a muttered, “Goodness me, I wonder where all of this mess came from...” and a wave of his wand, which immediately left all surfaces sparkling, he sent them off to bed.

In fact, Harry could have sworn he heard a muttered, “Fifty points to Gryffindor for a most brilliant prank,” as he ascended the marble staircase, but he was really too tired to tell...

Unfortunately for the Marauders, Sunday morning didn’t start off as well as the night before had finished. Awoken at the crack of dawn by Madam Pomfrey insisting that the resident werewolf needed to spend the day preceding the full moon in the Hospital Wing – not that she actually came out and said this of course – is not the best way to be pulled from your sleep after a late night.

After a sleepy and grumbling Lupin had left the dorm to the continuous accompaniment of, “I noticed yesterday you were looking awfully peaky; you really have to look after your health better, you know, especially seeing as you’re already delicate...” there had been no chance to catch a few more hours sleep. McGonagall had come in almost as soon as Madam Pomfrey had left and immediately dragged them off to start the punishment essay that everyone else had finished ages ago.

Still, it hadn’t all been bad. Aside from it being a perfect excuse to avoid Snape, there were also a lot of opportunities to talk and learn more about each other in the silent library. Harry had learnt that, at the age of nine, James had collected Muggle stamps, managing to accumulate an impressive (for a wizard) three hundred before finally giving up.

Pettigrew’s father kept hawks – hence the reason why the timid boy had been able to handle Harry so expertly when he was in kestrel form – and he himself expressed a desire to open a business that trained hawks instead of owls as message bearers.

Sirius had – apparently – the summer before he came to Hogwarts, stolen a Muggle motorbike and taken it for a joyride around London, resulting in many of Her Majesty’s Police Force being Obliviated, a smashed up bike, and a broken arm, caused when Sirius had had to swerve violently to avoid a lorry travelling in the opposite direction. Harry wasn’t sure about how much of this tale should be believed. But, knowing Sirius, there was a very good chance it could all be true.

According to the others, Lupin – unsurprisingly – wanted to go into teaching, but also wanted to see if he could get into a Muggle University first and learn more about their culture. Lupin the boy had an almost fierce curiosity of the world around him and Harry couldn’t help but feel sad as he thought of how that interest had been practically squashed out of him by the various cruelties the world had heaped upon him.

He, himself, told the daring tale of how he rescued the Philosopher’s stone – conveniently leaving out any parts referring to what had happened to any of the Marauders or Lily – thinking it sounded like such an unbelievable tale that none of the other boys would even think to ask after themselves.

Unfortunately, all further conversation was curtailed when a younger-but-barely Madam Pince came and hovered over them like a bad-tempered vulture. Sirius quickly found a way around the ‘no talking’ rule by successfully Transfiguring Pettigrew’s spare parchment into a frog, which he promptly sent hoping speedily across the shelves with an irate Madam Pince chasing after it. Harry had had to hide his laughter by stuffing his sleeve in his mouth.

But, as Harry had learned to his own cost over the years, one could not avoid Severus Snape forever. And so, just as the four boys had packed up their books to head back to the Tower, he was again cornered by McGonagall, who snootily informed him that Professor Snape was awaiting his presence in the west dungeons. Apparently she was still annoyed about the Great Hall incident and made no attempt to get him out of it.

It was a tired and sore Harry – still stiff from cleaning – that limped down to the dungeon that evening, wishing more than anything that he could take a wrong turn and conveniently get lost in one of the Castle’s many confusing corridors.

This, irritatingly, did not happen.

With much reluctance, he knocked. “Professor Snape?” he called, almost wincing at the hypocrisy of using the title.

“Enter!” The voice was sharp and unforgiving, and Harry knew without a doubt that he was in for it.

“Err... Hello, sir?” Harry whispered, opening the door and peering at the inscrutable back of his Professor, who was currently bent over a cauldron.

The man didn’t

“You, well, you sent for me?”

Still no answer.

“Oh, for pity’s sake!” Harry snapped, the short lead on his temper breaking. “Your younger self practically told me to chuck that cake at you, so logically it should really be you that you’re punishing, or giving the silent treatment, or whatever! Never mind the fact that’s it’s impossible, you’d probably give it a good enough go; you’re stubborn enough–”

“Mr Potter.”

Harry clamped his jaw closed, suddenly realising how far he’d let his mouth run away with him. If he wasn’t going to be punished before, he certainly would be now.

“Sir?”

“Chop those daisy roots. I need an extra pair of hands for this stage in the process.”

Harry blinked. Had he just heard right? Evidently, seeing as Snape was still pointing a long, yellowed finger at the offending roots. Shrugging, he headed over to the chopping, sparing a calculating glance over his shoulder at his puzzling teacher. Snape certainly didn’t look angry, but with Snape that meant nothing.

However, after several more moments spent in silence, Harry felt ready to change his opinion. “So, uh, is this it, then? You make a stupid mistake, I cover your head with pudding and we’re square?”

Still no answer. Harry was beginning to wonder if Snape had somehow managed to end up the wrong side of a selective Silencing Charm. Now, that would be poetic.

Deciding he rather liked this new, unresponsive Snape, Harry decided to continue talking out loud and to hell with the consequences. “We should have used this system before. It would have saved so much time, and probably ended with fewer hard feelings on both our parts–”

“Potter!” Snape whirled around and glared at him for the first time that night. “Are you ever going to shut up?”

“You haven’t asked me to yet, sir,” Harry replied quietly, steadily meeting the man’s gaze.

Merlin! What am I doing? I’ve spent far too much time with the Marauders! Oh well, too late to back out now...

And then, astonishingly, Snape sighed and turned back to his own cauldron as if nothing had happened. After another few minutes of chopping and brewing in their usual, silent routine, Snape took a breath and muttered, “Well, it’s better than listening to Slughorn prattle on about his special little club all day. Your company is most certainly... preferable.”

Harry almost dropped the knife. It was his turn to whirl about and stare at Snape, but the Professor didn’t seem inclined to look up, instead choosing to scowl ferociously at the brew before him.

Slowly, Harry convinced himself to turn back to his own station and carry on working on the daisy roots, his hands feeling numb and clumsy as his mind whirled. What Snape had said was about as absurd as the man saying that he actually liked him, which was blatantly ridiculous. It was as if the world had turned on its head. He felt as dizzy as the time he had stepped into the golden mist in the Triwizard Maze.

Harry snorted and shook his head violently, trying to stay focused as Snape assigned him several different tasks throughout the evening. Occasionally he roused himself to ask questions on exactly how he was meant to do things – he wasn’t going to make the salamander mistake again – and Snape answered snappishly, but he answered nevertheless. It seemed as if they had managed, somehow, to get their relationship back to where it had been before this whole Marauder accident, and, even more shockingly, it seemed to have been improved somewhat by the series of impossibly peculiar events.

Harry wasn’t complaining. He was shocked, certainly, but definitely not complaining. He even manage to persuade Snape to coach him in a few obscure Defence spells – after the promise had been made that he wouldn’t practice them out of Snape’s sight – and had, to his own surprise as well as Snape’s, managed to recite them back word perfect.

Finally, midnight drew near and Snape firmly pointed him towards the door.

“If you are caught for being out after curfew, that is your own failing and not mine. I refuse to write a pass for a student so notorious for sneaking out.”

Harry hid a smirk behind his hand. “Thanks for protecting my reputation, Professor,” he answered cheekily.

Snape pretended that he hadn’t heard. “I have successfully separated the different components that are necessary for the potion but the combinations require more consideration. Rest assured, Potter, you will be back among your fawning sycophants in no time” – Snape sneered – “though you seem to have acquired some here as well.”

Harry felt the back of his neck heating up as he tried to control his temper. “Any sycophants I have acquired here is through no fault of my own!” he snapped, imitating Snape’s style of speech. Yes, of course he knew what sycophants were; he’d looked it up in a dictionary the last time Snape had insulted him that way. “I am sorry about humiliating you in the Great Hall, but you deserved it and you know it!”

Furious, Harry turned and stormed towards the door, only to be brought up short by a softly snarled, “Potter.”

He really did think Snape was going to kill him this time – those black eyes were promising murder – but Harry raised his chin and glared straight back, furious that Snape couldn’t seem to last an evening without putting him down at least once.

And then the moment passed. Snape leaned back against the nearest counter and briefly rubbed a hand over his face. “We are both tired. Go to bed, Potter, and be careful. I don’t think I need to remind you that it’s a full moon tonight?”

Harry shook his head slowly. “No, Professor. Goodnight.” He slipped out of the door, wondering if he’d imagined the softly echoed ‘Goodnight’ from the room behind. Snape was acting strangely indeed... almost as if he was expecting something bad to happen...

The dorm was deserted, as expected, but Harry found a quickly scrawled note from Sirius saying, Windhover, we’ve gone to find Moony. Wish you could come along. Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail. Harry smiled and chucked the note on his bedside table, the feeling of foreboding that had been brewing in his chest all the way up from the dungeons evaporating.

Nothing was going to happen; Snape would brew the potion, Harry would spend some more time with the parents he’d never known – well, parent; he really wished Lily would stop avoiding him so he could at least learn a few things about her – then he and Snape would drink the potion and go back to where they were supposed to be and everyone here would forget they’d ever been here.

It made Harry a little sad thinking about it that way, but he supposed that was what made the moment all the more precious. Walking over to the dormitory window, he peered out over the grounds and up at the beautifully bright full moon.

A flicker of movement caught his eye and he quickly turned his gaze to the Forbidden Forest. There, flitting right at the edge of the forest, he could make out a huge, grey, lupine shape loping between the trees. If Harry squinted hard enough, he could just make out the large, black form of a dog and the tall shape of the red deer made thick by its winter pelt. The moonlight reflected off an odd lump on the stag’s antlers and Harry smiled as he realised that that must be Pettigrew.

Suddenly, the wolf stopped and lifted its muzzle to heaven, an unearthly howl breaking out across the silent grounds. The dog joined in, its joyful barks a marked contrast to the melancholy of the wolf. The stag reared and boxed the air in front of it before letting its forequarters fall and turning gracefully toward the forest. After another moment, the wolf broke off its song and followed after some gentle persuasion from the dog.

Harry sat and watched them until they were no longer visible. He felt awed and humbled and utterly grateful for what he had just witnessed; a part of his heritage, a part he would never truly know, but had been allowed to come closer to than he ever had before on this night. Content and happy, Harry went to bed and fell into peaceful dreams.

“Today we instigate The Plan!” Sirius gestured far more eagerly with his toast than the bags under his eyes suggested him capable of. Lupin was still in the Hospital Wing, but Madam Pomfrey had informed them, to their delight, that he would be out by lunchtime.

“What plan?” James grumbled, his head resting on the table while his glasses were held safe in one hand. “I don’t remember any plan.”

“The Great Snape Plan!” Sirius exclaimed, practically bouncing in his seat. “We’re starting it today! Ideas? Any ideas, people?”

“Shh, not so loud,” Harry muttered, casting a glance at the staff table where Snape was acting his usual hawk-like self. “Ears like a bat that one.”

To be honest, he was feeling a little guilty for agreeing to prank Snape now that the man had started being Snape-decent to him again, but then, he did need taking down a peg or two sometimes. He could be very arrogant...

Hmm, what a dilemma...

Harry shrugged and turned back to his breakfast. It was too late to back out now and this way he would be able to curb some of the Marauders’ more dangerous ideas – he really didn’t like the way they looked at Snape, almost predatorily sometimes.

Still, he didn’t want to have that particular conversation just yet – that was guaranteed to end in a loud argument – and they seemed decent enough to everyone else. If they had turned out to really be the bullies they had appeared to be when he first met them, they would have received such a bad hexing, they wouldn’t have been able to walk straight. Instead, they just seemed like four, normal teenage boys who were a bit full of themselves. And who happened to hate Snape with a passion... but then, Snape hated them back equally. So who had really started it all?

It was so confusing! What would be the right thing to do? Confront them now or wait until they, God forbid, ganged up on young Snape again?

Sirius effectively distracted Harry from continuing any further in his line of thought by accidently whacking James in the head with his toast and the resulting grumbling that followed, where Harry had to calm James down before he accidently restarted the food fight again. Lily, who was sitting near them, took one look and turned away in disgust. Harry felt his heart squeeze even as he forced himself to ignore it.

“I have an idea!” Sirius muttered, after having apologised to James.

All five Marauders leant in. “What?” Harry asked while internally praying that it would be somewhat subtle.

“Fruit salad!” Sirius exclaimed gleefully.

Harry was about to ask what on earth he was talking about when he suddenly noticed that the other the Marauders were laughing and clapping Sirius on the back.

“Don’t worry,” James whispered, nudging his arm. “Even Moony wouldn’t think there’s anything wrong with this. Watch.” He pointed towards the staff table just as Sirius muttered a spell under his breath.

The adult Snape, oblivious, spooned up some more of his cereal into his mouth... and froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. Convulsing with laughter, Sirius pulled out the same camera he’d been carrying around all week – apparently it was a belated birthday present from James’s mum – and snapped a picture of Snape staring down at his spoon as though it had tried to start a conversation with him.

“What the...?” Harry glanced towards the other Marauders, who were quickly pretending to not notice Snape glaring in their direction... while simultaneously convulsing with silent laughter.

“The spell makes everything he eats with his spoon turn into Fruit Salad after he’s put it in his mouth,” Sirius snickered. “And he’s not exactly the type to spit it out again. Quick! He’s coming!” Sirius snatched his arm and quickly dragged Harry after the others and they hastily left the Hall.

“Don’t you think it’s rather obvious who did... whatever you did, since we were the ones who ran?” Harry asked as they walked towards the Charms classroom. While Harry still had to attend classes, he didn’t have to take notes or do any of the homework, which suited him just fine, especially as it annoyed the other Marauders so much.

“He’d have worked it out anyway. Serves him right, sitting there like he owns the place!”

“James, he’s a teacher, he’s supposed to look like that,” Harry said, feeling more than a little longsuffering. “I didn’t suggest the prank war just so you could follow up on whatever grudge you have against the younger one. I suggested it in case he actually did something to provoke us. Which I took care of, if you remember, with that cream pudding.”

“Yeah, right,” James sneered, suddenly rounding on Harry. “This is Snape we’re talking about. Even if he hasn’t done anything yet, he’ll still be planning it, so he deserves everything we do to him! We’d all be a lot better off if he’d never been born!”

Sirius was nodding in agreement, and Harry felt the dormant anger boil up in him again, this time there was no stopping it.

“Would you listen to yourselves?” he spat, glaring at them all. “If you truly believe that, there’s no difference between him and you; or at least the ‘him’ you think he is! How dare you think you have the right to decide who deserves to exist and who doesn’t? You might have forgotten, but I’m from the future, and I can tell you now that a world without Snape would be worse: a lot worse!” Harry knew he couldn’t say that Snape had spied against Voldemort in the first war, not only because Snape being an ex-Death Eater would invalidate his point, but also because it wasn’t his secret to tell. How he wished he could, though!

Suddenly a hand reached out and, without any warning, pulled his glasses from his face. “Hey!” Harry grabbed in the direction he’d last seen them and snatched them back from Pettigrew. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked as he shoved them back on his face.

Pettigrew shrugged. “Nothing. Just checking if they were rose-tinted.”

That smarmy little...!

As Harry stared at the self-righteous smirk that had spread itself across Pettigrew’s face and all the hatred he had felt for Wormtail suddenly came flooding back like a storm of ice.

“You slimy, little rat!” he hissed, stepping forward and looming over the smaller boy like Snape had done to him. “I ought to learn to become an Animagus just rip you to shreds!”

“Don’t you dare!” Sirius snarled viciously, pulling the terrified Pettigrew back by the shoulder and standing protectively in front of him. “Don’t you dare threaten him! If you like Snape so much, why don’t you go and spend time with him?”

Breathing hard, Harry looked from him to the others; James had his wand out, Sirius was glaring, eyes gleaming with some unholy light, and Pettigrew was still cowering behind the taller boys. And in that moment, Harry knew that he couldn’t tell them why they shouldn’t trust the boy they were so rigorously defending. Aside from the fact that he didn’t want to make the same mistake as Snape, he knew it wouldn’t make any difference; everyone would forget he’d ever been there by Thursday evening, and, judging from the Marauders’ pugnacious faces, that would probably for the best.

“Fine!” he snarled back. “I’ll do just that!”

The corridor was very long, and he felt the glares aimed at his back every step of the way.

Well, I always knew it was too good to last.

Harry hadn’t gone to see Snape, he knew how that would probably end: a vicious “Why aren’t you in lessons, Potter?” and then a swift boot out of the door. He hadn’t particularly wanted to deal with that just yet, so instead he’d headed up to the dorm and lain down on the bed, fully prepared to brood for a few hours.

Bastards. All of them.

Still furious, Harry threw himself off the bed to pace the length of the room and back again.

Who are they to judge Snape? Who are they to judge ME?

He stopped abruptly and stood, breathing hard, in front of one of the dorm windows – consequently the same one he’d watched the Marauders with awe through the night before.

Well, the morning certainly shows them up in a different light, doesn’t it?

Gripping the sill, Harry glared out into the grounds below, wondering if he should have gone to Snape after all; the man certainly seemed to appreciate his presence more if last night was anything to go by. Besides, past incidents had taught him that both of them could scream blue murder each other and not experience any great change in their relationship.

What he really wanted to do was fly until it didn’t matter anymore, but he wasn’t angry – or malicious – enough to steal someone else’s broom merely to settle his thoughts, so that option was out.

Better go and talk to Snape; at least I’ll be able to shout at him if nothing else.

But, as he turned towards the door, a glint caught his eye and his gaze automatically snapped in its direction.

It was the glass phial that held the potion which had turned Harry into the kestrel, sitting innocently under a heap of James’s discarded robes. Harry bit his lip indecisively. It wasn’t stealing, per se... It would merely be drinking the remainder of something that had been made for him, without asking. James had said that, while the potion was easy enough, one of the ingredients was impossible to get hold of without a licence... unless you were the son of someone who harvested said ingredient, who James conveniently was. Which essentially meant that Harry would be drinking something that belonged to the Potter family anyway – and he really was desperate to fly.

Making a split second decision, he snatched up the phial and hurried over to the window, throwing it open as wide as it would go.

Let’s see... James said that a full phial lasted five minutes, and I’ve just got a little over halfway left. Three minutes. Plenty of time for a kestrel to get from the seventh floor to the ground. Easy. Yeah.

Harry glanced at the drop and gulped, realising just how far seven floors was when you didn’t have a broom.

Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll be fine. You trust yourself on a broom, don’t you? So you should be able to trust yourself in a body specifically designed for flying! You’ll be fine.

Taking a deep, deep breath, he climbed up onto the sill and downed the potion, which tasted strangely like burnt sugar and seawater mixed together. Nasty.

Crossing his fingers, Harry crouched and waited for the change. And waited and waited. And just went he was about to give up, the change happened, making him feel like a piece of paper that had suddenly been scrunched up into a much smaller shape – peculiar but not particularly painful.

As soon as Windhover saw the open sky before him, he didn’t even think, just simply launched himself into the huge, wide openness and he didn’t feel angry anymore but free, free, free!

Dipping one wing, he swooped in a long, graceful arc, flying faster and faster like an arrow from a bow, only pulling up from the dive when the ground seemed impossibly close.

However, the nearness pulled a bit more of the human part of Harry to the front of his mind than was strictly wise when in flight, and he ended up flapping wildly to try and avoid ploughing into the ground. Luckily, the kestrel’s natural instinct to hover saved him and Windhover settled comfortably into the energy-consuming wing-beat, his eyes automatically scanning the ground for prey.

There! A mouse!

Windhover dived, snatched, and almost caught it before it whipped away into longer grass. Giving a warbling cry of exasperation, the kestrel flew up again and went to settle on the top of Hagrid’s hut, listening to the half-giant’s movements inside while his eyes scanned the ground for more prey. However, all the small animals of the area had heard the kestrel’s cry and had gone into hiding, meaning that Windhover would be out of luck. For now.

Idly preening one wing, Windhover huffed and eventually decided to give in to the inexplicable part of his mind which seemed to be screaming at him to get OFF the roof and under cover NOW. He cast a glance over his shoulder in confusion. There wasn’t a goshawk in sight, so there was no particular reason to flee, was there? The phrase three minutes repeated in his mind, confusing him further. What was a ‘minute’? Could you eat it?

Chirring in annoyance, Windhover spread his wings and flew into the trees of the forest, settling on a branch too close to the ground to his liking, and then...

Trying not to yell at the sensation of unexpectedly being inflated back to ‘normal’ size within the short space of a second, Harry gripped the branch and concentrated on not falling off.

As soon as he’d got his bearings back, Harry held onto the trunk and laughed quietly. Being a kestrel was so fantastic! He’d have to start studying the Animagus Transformation as soon as possible! Windhover saw the world so differently it was almost radical – he’d almost eaten a mouse, and had actually looked forward to the idea for Merlin’s sake!

Amazing, brilliant...!

Harry only remembered he was over one hundred metres inside the Forbidden Forest when a twig moved beside his hand. While the forest didn’t seem to mind letting a kestrel in, it didn’t seem too fond of the idea of letting the human the kestrel had transformed into stay.

“OK, OK, I’m going,” Harry whispered to the peculiar, twiggy creature that was shaking its fist at him.

The twig creature drew its lips back in a snarl and pointed imperiously to the ground.

Harry glanced down and realised the ground, which had seemed so close to Windhover, was actually much further than he’d anticipated. Unfortunately, the creature was getting impatient and it looked very much like it would like to take a chunk out of Harry’s hand with its tiny, pointy teeth. “Err... right. Wish me luck!” he hissed under his breath.

Harry pushed off, fell about two metres, being careful to absorb the impact by rolling, and fetched up in the middle of a large thorn bush.

“Ow!” he yelped into the stillness around him.

“Mr Potter.”

“Holy fu–!”

Snape did not look impressed.

“I mean... err... Ouch, that hurt!” Harry amended, still trembling from Snape’s unexpected appearance.

I think this is a case of be careful what you wish for: I wanted to see Snape, well, I can see him, and he definitely doesn’t seem pleased to see me.

“Indeed.” Snape suddenly swept forward and hauled Harry from the bramble patch, holding tightly him by that same arm and glaring down into Harry’s wide eyes. “Might you care to inform me what you were doing up a tree in the Forbidden Forest, Mr Potter?”

“I...” Harry stared into the pair of emotionless, black tunnels and could find no words.

“As I thought,” Snape purred. “You and your little band of Marauders must have decided that it was time to play yet another trick on snivelling, sneering, Snape.” With every S word, Snape’s grip tightened until Harry was almost certain all the blood supply had been cut off from his arm.

“I... No! No.” Harry found his voice and tried to jerk away from Snape, who only responded by tightening his grip further.

Harry twisted away again, managing a strained, “Sir... You’re – hurting – me.”

And suddenly the grip was gone. Harry stumbled back, regaining his footing and looking up only to find Snape staring at him in disgust. “Just when I thought I might have been mistaken about you,” the man scoffed. “But it’s always the same, isn’t it? Your father never knew when to stop either, and evidently, you’re just like him.”

“No I’m not!” Harry shouted, his voice echoed through the trees. “Is this about the prank this morning? Is it? ‘Cos I had nothing to do with that! I didn’t want them to do anything and they went ahead and did it anyway!” Harry broke off, breathing hard, and glared at Snape. “Didn’t it even occur to you that the reason I’m spending time with them is not because I agree with what they do but because before now I’ve never been able to remember spending time with my father...”

Mortified, on hearing his voice break on the last word, Harry turned away from Snape and glared out among the trees instead, fists balled at his sides.

“And why should I believe that, Potter?” The sneer – though still present in Snape’s voice – seemed softer than before. “And why, if your theory is indeed valid, did you only think your father” – the sneer came back full force on this word – “was worthy of your consideration? Did your mother not meet with your high expectations?”

Here was a topic Harry wasn’t sure he was ready to discuss with Snape – with anyone – but the last thing he wanted was for the man to think that Harry thought his mother inferior in any way when quite the opposite really.

“She’s been avoiding me,” he muttered, his voice thick. “She obviously doesn’t want to know me, to have anything to do with me, so why bother? Add to that the fact that the Marauders aren’t talking to me anymore because I defended you,” Harry spat, “it looks like my last few days here are going to be pretty lonely, so why don’t you just go ahead and gloat and then leave me alone!”

Snape was silent for so long that Harry became almost certain the man had glided off into the trees during Harry’s last rant, leaving him alone in the forest. Well, fine. It’s not like he needed company anyway. In a few days he’d be back with Ron and Hermione...

And would never see his parents ever again.

“Potter...”

Harry jumped and turned around, shocked to see the man still standing there with an unreadable on his face. He seemed to be struggling to say something, and Harry waited patiently for whatever it was. Snape’s expression twisted for an instant into a derisive sneer before smoothing once more into impassivity. The man held out a leather knapsack that Harry hadn’t noticed before.

“Carry these roots up to the castle and put them in my workroom, would you?” he snapped, not looking at Harry.

Harry hastened to take the bag and slung it over his shoulder, wondering what had caused the sudden change in mood this time. He’d only walked ten paces towards the edge of the forest when another sharp, “Potter!” froze him in place.

“Yes, Professor?” he asked, half-turning. Snape had a speculative expression on his face, and that could mean anything.

“Have you actually tried talking to her without your father and his sycophants in tow?”

Harry’s temper rose at the insult but he forced it down and shook his head.

“Then I suggest you do so. You will find her in the library after lunch; try then and you may find her more willing to talk you than you first thought.” With a whirl of black robes, Snape turned and strode off deeper into the forest’s black gloom, leaving a bemused Harry in his wake.

Lunchtime found Harry escaping the Great Hall as quickly as possible – the Marauders had been nowhere in sight, and Harry was in no mood for round two – and wandering through the library stacks, idly wondering where he should start looking in the huge room.

Snape said in the library. Well, I’m in the library... I wonder if he meant the Restricted Section? Hope not. I don’t fancy being screamed at by any books today.

After half an hour of wandering about pointlessly, Harry was ready to give up, almost certain that Snape’s instruction had been a subtle form of revenge wherein by he wasted Harry’s time by giving him wrong information.

It sounds just like him as well, the greasy git. How could I have even thought he would try to help me?

But it was then that he heard the voice originating from just around the corner he was walking towards, “I don’t want anything to do with him! He’s nasty, he’s arrogant and he’s always picking on people that are weaker than him; him and his little gang. I thought you knew me better than that, Sev.”

It was Lily’s voice, plain as day, but it was the person who answered her that startled Harry the most. “Oh, really? Then the fact that his son conveniently has your eyes has absolutely nothing to do with you? Care to explain that?”

What the...? That’s Snape!

Harry crept closer to the corner as Lily let out an exasperated sigh. “Severus, I... I just don’t know. Maybe it was a one night stand or something but I most certainly know better than to start a relationship with that bullying toerag.”

Young Snape’s voice was sharp when he next spoke, “I seem to recall you saying only a few minutes before that you would never have anything to do with him, so forgive me for not taking you at your word.”

Harry leaned over to peer around the corner, deciding that it probably wouldn’t be best to interrupt them while they were in the middle of an argument. He caught sight of them both in time to see Lily toss her hair in irritation, her green eyes flashing and a small, silver crucifix glittering at her throat as she moved. However, despite her obvious annoyance, she couldn’t seem to stop a small smile from slipping across her lips.

Were Snape and my Mum friends? Why did no one ever mention it? Why didn’t SNAPE? Was he ashamed or something?

“Severus Snape, you listen to me...!”

“Stupefy!”

With a yelp, Harry threw himself to the ground even as a bolt of red light missed the top of his head by mere inches.

“Potter! How many times have I told you not to eavesdrop on us, you sneaking bastard?” He heard Lily yell as he tried to roll to his feet.

Uh oh, she sounds angry.

Several things happened at once. Harry quickly rolled to the side, drew his wand – Lily had been about to hex him too – and yelled, “Wrong Potter!” Young Snape had grabbed Lily and dragged her back and, unfortunately, Madam Pince arrived.

“What is all of this racket?” she screeched, evidently immune to the irony of her tone. She spotted Harry lying on the floor and Snape’s wand trained on him. “Fighting? In my library? I don’t think so! Out! All of you, OUT!”

In this fashion, Harry, Snape and Lily found themselves duly escorted out, library door slamming behind them, accompanied by Madam Pince’s final words of “...and stay out!”

As soon as they were alone in the corridor, Lily rounded on them. “This is all your fault!” she snapped pointing first at Harry and then at Snape. “I have never been thrown out of the library in all the time I’ve come to school here. How am I going to finish our Transfiguration essay now?”

Harry shuffled his feet and looked at the ground, feeling incredibly guilty and tired all of a sudden. All he’d wanted was to see if she’d speak with him and now he’d got her into trouble. He should have just stayed away, like she had tried to stay away from him.

“Listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he muttered to his shoes. “I just wanted to talk to you, especially as I haven’t seen much of you and I’ll be going home soon. Sorry to have bothered you.” He flicked a gaze at Snape. “Either of you.”

He strode off down the corridor, not even stopping at Lily’s belated “Wait!” It didn’t matter anyway. The anger was back and he was longing to fly again; to be a carefree bird of prey whose only concerns were the wind on his wings and when he would get his next meal.

“Harry! Harry, wait!”

Harry sped up.

“Potter, for pity’s sake.”

“Please, Harry!”

Someone caught his arm and he looked back to see Lily staring up at him pleadingly. “Look, I’m sorry too. I was angry, and I shouldn’t have blamed you and Sev; I was yelling just as loudly. Besides” – she smiled – “I’ve been meaning to talk to you anyway. I just didn’t want to go anywhere near Potter and his friends and you didn’t seem to want to get too far away from them.”

Despite himself, Harry felt his mouth starting to smile. “Yeah?”

Lily grinned back. “Yeah. C’mon. Me and Sev were about to go down by the lake. Want to come with us?”

Harry glanced up at the impassive Snape, before shrugging. “Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks.”

Lily laughed and tugged on his arm, starting to pull him in the direction of the Entrance Hall. “C’mon then, you two.”

Young Snape started to scowl. “Forgive me, Lily, but I think I can find better things to do than spend my time with Potters.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Sev. Come on. The good weather won’t wait, especially this late in the year.”

Snape grumbled, but started to follow nevertheless.

Harry blinked, confused. “We have good weather today?”

Lily laughed again, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Where have you been all day? The sun’s been shining since it came up this morning!”

“Uh...” Harry thought back, remembering that the sun had been warm on Windhover’s wings as he flew through the grounds. “Sulking, I think. The Marauders were being right gits.”

“How surprising,” young Snape drawled, seeming to finally want to join in the conversation. “As if they could ever been anything different.”

“About that,” Harry looked back at Snape guiltily, “I should have stopped them sooner the other day. It was really cruel of them to do something like that.”

Snape glared, though it was nowhere near as powerful as an adult Snape’s glare. “I’ve told you already that I didn’t need help. Especially not from a Potter,” he snapped.

“Really, Sev!” Lily raised her eyes to heaven. “He was just being polite. I already told you that he didn’t seem so bad and he isn’t.” She smiled warmly at Harry again. “As if I’d let any son of mine ever grow up any other way.”

Harry ducked his head and blushed, warmth and pain warring in his chest, because it just wasn’t fair. Lily should have lived, ought to have lived, just as James ought to, just as Harry should have grown up coddled by the two amazing people he’d met, in a proper, loving family. It just wasn’t fair.

Only when the warmth of the sun hit his skin as they left the castle did he realise he’d been brooding... and that Lily and Snape had been bickering about the various ways Harry could have come into being without Lily coming within a metre of James Potter.

“If you’re so insistent on knowing, why don’t you ask Harry yourself?”

“Maybe I shall. Potter,” Snape sneered, turning on Harry, “what exactly was the relationship of your mother and your... sire?”

Harry was prevented from answering by Lily’s snort of laughter. “Sire? Oh, honestly, Sev!”

“Well, what am I supposed to call him?” Snape snarled back, but without any real venom. “It’s not as if the arrogant bastard would want to stick around after getting you in... err... trouble.”

Lily tossed her hair and settled down by the lakeside, motioning the others to sit down next to her. “As if I would let him in the first place.”

Harry picked up a pebble and skimmed it across the water, watching its path until it sank, bizarrely reminded of a strange version of Ron and Hermione as he listened to the two of them. He snorted. Ron wouldn’t speak to him again if he ever found Harry’d compared him to Snape.

“I’m not s’posed to say,” he broke in, “but I do know that you’re happy.” His throat contracted as he struggled not to say ‘were’. “And so’s my Dad, and that’s all that really matters, right?”

One look at Snape’s face told him that, no, it wasn’t; Lily’s expression was pensive, and a sombre silence descended on them as they each became lost in their own thoughts.

“But, anyway,” Harry continued, deciding he’d had enough of being morose today and directing his words at Snape, “I’ve been meaning to ask you: why did you want me to chuck food at your older self?”

Snape stared over at him warily, seeming to weigh his words before he spoke, and when he did, it was only, “I don’t like people shouting at others.”

The words sounded simple enough, but Harry caught the hidden meaning. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Me neither.”

And just like that, the air seemed to clear.

As the afternoon wore on, Harry discovered that Lily was excitable, bubbly and open-minded about everyone, save the Marauders who she hated with a passion. Not so surprisingly, he discovered that young Snape was quiet, withdrawn and disliked everyone with the notable exception of Lily, and even with her he behaved quite standoffish, as if allowing anyone close to him was a grave danger not to be undertaken lightly. To Harry, he behaved indifferently, but Harry guessed this was mostly for Lily’s benefit.

Harry was just teaching Lily how to skim stones across the lake, and Snape was watching, pretending to be bored, but looking mildly interested all the same when the sun started to set.

“Oh bother!” Lily frowned up at the sky, wrinkling her nose. “I was just starting to get the hang of it as well!”

Harry laughed and tossed her another pebble. “One last try then, we can get them to race each other!”

Snape, who was settled against a tree nearby, nose buried once again in a book, snorted and muttered something suspiciously like, “If she can actually stop from sinking the second it hits the water.”

Lily heard him too and she whirled around, putting her hands on her hips. “Oh really? I’d like to see you try, Severus Snape!”

Snape snorted, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’ll pass. I would prefer not to make a complete fool of myself.”

“Ha! I’m not making a fool of myself, it’s called having fun.” Lily turned back to Harry. “C’mon, Harry, let’s show him how good we are!”

That time, Lily – much to her delight – managed six skips, while Harry managed seven. She was still dancing about with delight when young Snape stood up and dusted himself off.

“I do believe supper is being served in the castle. You two can either carry on mucking around down here or come with me and get something to eat.” Having said that, Snape stuffed the large tome he had been reading into his already-heavy bag and started walking back towards the castle.

Lily hurried after him, beckoning Harry to follow. By the time he’d caught them both up, he’d finally worked up the courage to ask something that had been on the tip of his tongue all afternoon.

“Lily...” he started, uncertainly. “I’ve been meaning to ask: why were you avoiding me? I bet it wasn’t just about the Marauders.”

Lily ducked her head in shame. “I... didn’t know what to make of you. I mean, there I was in the middle of scolding the Marauders for trying to break into the potions stores again and then you and a grown up Sev turn up. I didn’t know what to think; whether it was a prank, who you were. When you said you were my son, I almost fainted!”

Another derisive snort came from Snape’s direction and Lily batted him on the shoulder. “Shut up, you! You’re supposed to be congratulating me for keeping my head and fetching Dumbledore! But, Harry, the problem was, all I could think about was how on earth I ended up having a son with James Dratted Potter. I’m sorry if I seemed a little... cold. You’re much nicer than him, I know that now, but I didn’t at the time. Do you understand?”

Harry smiled a little. “’Course I do. All that matters is that you know now, I s’pose.”

Lily nodded enthusiastically, and Harry found himself wondering how she managed to have so much energy all of the time. He was exhausted already with just trying to keep up with her.

“I hope they have treacle tart tonight; it’s my favourite!” Lily told him as they walked into the cool of the Entrance Hall.

Harry was about to open his mouth and say ‘Mine too,’ when he spotted a familiar figure standing by the great double doors into the Great Hall as if waiting for him. Young Snape sneered in disgust and strode away from them both, past the waiting Lupin and disappeared into the Great Hall. Harry noticed Lily going tense beside him, but he put a hand on her arm in the hopes that she wouldn’t follow Snape’s example just yet.

“Hey, L... Moony,” he said warily as he approached, hoping that the drawn-looking boy wouldn’t have the same reaction as the other Marauders did earlier. “What’s wrong?”

Lupin smirked, and jerked a thumb at the floor above. “I think you’d better come with me. The others have got themselves in a bit of a pickle.”

“Actually...” Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I’d rather not talk to them after how they were acting before. No offence, Moony. I know you weren’t there.”

Lupin’s smirk widened. “Oh, they’re very contrite now. And besides, you have to see this; your Snape has definitely got a sense of humour hidden somewhere. Want to come and have a look as well, Lily?” he added, as if noticing her for the first time.

Lily bit her lip, evidently torn between her dislike of the Marauders and her natural curiosity. Curiosity won out. “All right, then. Don’t expect me to stick around though, Remus.”

Lupin hurried off, beckoning them up the marble staircase.

“I thought you didn’t like any of the Marauders?” Harry muttered under his breath. “Why did you call him Remus?”

Lily’s lips thinned into their Petunia-like line again. “I used to study with Remus when we were first years, back when everyone was still avoiding him. Back when they hadn’t invited him into their little club,” she sneered, striking an uncanny resemblance to Snape as she did so.

They walked in silence after Lupin the rest of the way, and Harry wondered if her knack for taking in strays would be what drew her to James Potter in the end – if the arrogant boy would ever unintentionally show weakness in front of her, allowing Lily to see through the bullying exterior through to the real boy underneath. It was very possible.

“Here we are,” Lupin said cheerfully as he stopped in the middle of the First Floor corridor.

Harry looked around in confusion. “Moony, there’s no one here.”

“You think so?” Lupin was now grinning unrepentantly, his smile deepening the bags under his eyes. “Look up.”

“Hi, Harry!” Sirius called out cheerfully, waving from where he was standing next to Pettigrew. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh?” Harry muttered faintly. “Talking to me again, are you?”

Lily said nothing, seemingly unable to do anything other than gape at the three boys who were, for all intents and purposes, apparently stuck to the ceiling above them.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes tight shut. Opening them again a moment later confirmed that, no, he wasn’t seeing things, and that, yes, the remaining three Marauders really were standing on the ceiling as if gravity had been reversed. He snuck a glance at Lily, who was still looking completely dumbstruck.

Well, that’s reassuring. I think. You can’t be hallucinating if more than one person can see it, right? So that’s a good thing. Then again, it IS starting to make me dizzy...

“Is there any particular reason you’re on the ceiling?” he asked tentatively, not particularly certain that he’d like the answer.

James and Sirius scowled simultaneously, while Pettigrew merely sighed.

“Your Professor decided to have a few words with us about appreciation,” James finally bit out.

“Uh, appreciation for what, James?”

James waved his hand dismissively, starting to look incredibly guilty. “Oh, you know; friendship, loyalty, that kind of thing. Apparently he wasn’t too pleased that we shouted at you, so: we’re sorry.”

The other two nodded sincerely, which looked rather odd from Harry’s perspective.

“Yeah, we’re all sorry,” Sirius seconded. “We were being stupid and we shouldn’t have, and we didn’t really mean to yell at you like that. We were just tired, I guess. Late night, you know.”

“We should have known better than to pick on Snape in front of you,” James said glumly. “He seems to matter to you and we should have expected you’d get really angry. Umm...” he glanced around shiftily. “Do you mind if you find a teacher or someone to get us down? I think we’ve learned our lesson and I’m starting to get really dizzy... Oh! Hi, Evans!” he shouted, suddenly noticing Lily standing beside Harry.

Lily huffed in irritation and touched Harry’s arm. “I’m going if he’s starting that again. See you at supper, OK?”

“Yeah, OK. See you later!” he called after her as she turned and walked away, thinking that it was a shame that tomorrow didn’t have a free afternoon for Quidditch practice and studying like today had.

Lily glanced back to answer Harry, caught one last look at the Marauders and turned around quickly, shoulders shaking with mirth as she hurried away.

Harry looked back them himself and felt a small smirk spread across his face as he thought how satisfying it would be to leave them there overnight... and then dismissed it. There was no point in holding a grudge against someone you would never see again after Thursday night. “All right, but only if you promise to at least think about the consequences in future.” Harry sighed. “I’m sorry about insulting you too... Peter... I didn’t mean it either. I’ll go and find someone. Don’t move.”

Turning, he grabbed Lupin’s arm and started walking back the way they’d come. Only when they were certain they were out of earshot did they allow themselves to start laughing.

“Did you get pictures?” Harry gasped as he finally got his breath back.

“Yep!” Lupin grinned evilly, holding up Sirius’s camera for their inspection. “He dropped it when Snape cast the spell – apparently they’ve been up there since before lunch – and I managed to get some really brilliant shots. Here” – Lupin dug into his pocket – “you can have these three. They’re the best.”

Harry took one look at the photos he’d been handed and started laughing again. “I can’t believe Snape did this to them!”

As Harry’s words caught up with his brain, he sobered.

Snape did this for me because they insulted me? That’s... really decent of him, especially as it wasn’t for his own personal gain – well, aside for getting the Marauders back of course. But does that mean he actually cares about what happens to me now? I thought I was nothing more than a barely tolerated assistant...

A jovial voice broke into Harry’s confusion and pulled him from his thoughts, “Ah, hello, boys. Is there anything the matter? It must be an important reason indeed to be keeping you from treacle tart and custard.”

“Hello, Headmaster,” Lupin greeted, still smiling. “We do have a problem we were wondering if you could help us with. You see, James, Sirius and Peter seem to have ended up on the wrong side of a gravity-reversing hex. I’m sure they would be very grateful if you decided to let them down.” Lupin’s voice quivered with suppressed amusement as he forced out the last few words and even Harry felt a smile return to his face as he remembered the others’ predicament.

“Ah!” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “That is a most serious problem indeed. I’m sure I would be able to rescue them from their terrible fate. After all” – he winked at Harry – “missing out on treacle tart is a terrible fate to befall one. Lead the way, Mr Lupin.”

They made it back to the First Floor corridor very quickly, but there still had been enough time for three trapped Marauders to start a game of Exploding Snap, which was rather difficult as the cards still obeyed the laws of gravity.

As soon as Sirius spotted Dumbledore, he leapt to his feet and hurried over. “Professor Dumbledore,” he called plaintively, “please get us down. We’ve been stuck here since before lunch and we’re starving.” Sirius’s innocent expression – Harry noticed – was even better than his own.

The Headmaster chuckled. “All right, boys. Hold tight.” Dumbledore easily floated each of them down and tidied the mess of cards on the floor into a neat pile in James’s hands. “There, off to supper with you. Harry, could I have a word with you in my office? You can have your meal there instead.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked in surprise, recognising the order under the request. “OK, then. Moony – can you tell Lily that the Headmaster wanted to have a word with me and that I’m sorry I couldn’t make it?”

Lupin smiled wanly, exhaustion seeming to catch up with him now that the fun was over. “Of course. Bye, Harry.”

The others called back similar sentiments as they hurried off down the corridor but James paused and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “Listen, I really am sorry about what I said earlier. We were all being gits to you and no wonder you lashed out at Wormtail. I’m just saying that we shouldn’t have done it, and I’m really glad you were brave enough to stand up for Snape. Uh... yeah...” James suddenly flushed as if remembering where they were. “See you.”

“Thanks,” Harry whispered at the departing figure’s back, a warm glow starting in his chest. “Thanks.”

“Well, Harry, shall we?”

He glanced towards Dumbledore, suddenly remembering that the old man was still there, and nodded.

Harry walked down through the castle in a daze. The visit to the Headmaster’s office had started off as expected; Dumbledore and he had eaten the supper provided by the House Elves – including the wonderful treacle tart – and had proceeded to discuss how he was finding his stay in the past. The Headmaster had even alluded to the fact that, eyes twinkling the whole while, he’d seen a kestrel flying around the castle for the first time in a long while – which made Harry squirm.

But the second half of the meeting – after the food had gone – was the last thing Harry could have expected.

“Now, Harry, I need to discuss with you a matter of the utmost importance.”

“What is it, Headmaster?”

“At this point you believe you only have one choice for your future, but allow me to introduce... a second option.”

“...”

“Don’t look so confused, dear boy. I was referring to your stay in our time.”

“But, sir, I’m going home as soon as Snape... Professor Snape finishes the potion. What other choice is there?”

“To remain behind, of course.”

“...”

“Ah, I see I have really surprised you this time. Didn’t it ever really cross your mind? To stay in this time with your parents, away from all the dangers Voldemort presents you with? Yes, Professor Snape told me all about that – about the Prophecy that has hounded you ever since you were born. If you stayed here, you would be safe from all of that.”

“I... Professor, I don’t... I don’t understand. Even if I did stay here, time would pass and I’d be back exactly where I started.”

“But with twenty extra years experience and training in your head. You have already escaped him two, three times? Just think what you’d be like after twenty years of purposeful preparation! Just think what it would be like to be ready and waiting for him. You would have to reintroduce me to yourself after the memory spell comes into play, of course, but after that we could find a way to disguise you and hide you among the students here.”

“...”

“...”

“I really don’t know, sir. Can I have time to think about it?”

“Of course, Harry. Take all the time you need.”

“Can I ask you something, sir?”

“Go ahead, Harry.”

“Would you be angry if I chose not to remain?”

“I would be... saddened.”

“...”

“...”

“I see... And can I ask you just one more question, Headmaster?”

“Of course, Harry. Ask away.”

“You once told me – in my time – that you would answer everything I said truthfully or not at all. Could you do that now, sir, please?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“I... Are you – asking – me to do this for my own benefit, or for the benefit of the Wizarding World?”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“To tell you the truth, Harry... Both.”

Harry sighed and massaged his temples with his forefingers. What should he choose? To tell the truth, Dumbledore’s offer was extremely tempting – he longed for nothing more than more time with his parents, even if he wouldn’t be able to interfere with their deaths, he’d still know them. As well as this, twenty years extra knowledge and battle-skills in his repertoire for the next time he saw Voldemort was an offer almost impossible to turn down.

But what about Ron and Hermione? The Weasleys? Snape? The next time I see them, I’ll be... thirty five! I mean I miss them terribly already, and Ron and Hermione would do their best to stay friends with me, but it’s an almost impossible age gap. Look at me and Snape! I’ll never be able to understand the man, and twenty years really isn’t that long a time if you think about it. I’d lose them... I’d lose my best friends... but I really don’t want to leave. Not yet.

A new thought suddenly went through Harry’s head.

What would Snape do? Of course. He’s the only one who would be able to think from the same angle I should be. He’ll know what to do.

Thus decided, Harry turned and hurried down towards the dungeons, only now realising that his meeting with the Headmaster had taken so long that it was way past curfew. Unless he wanted to be caught by Filch, he’d have to be very quiet.

Luckily, he reached the dungeons without mishap – though he did almost run into the Bloody Baron chastising Peeves for something on the Third Floor. They seemed awfully dark and quiet, and he found himself praying that he wouldn’t get lost this time.

Finally, he reached Snape’s door and knocked, not even waiting to hear a reply before pushing the door open, feeling extremely relieved as he saw that the man hadn’t gone to bed yet. “Sir! The Headmaster...”

“Don’t you even have the most basic knowledge of common courtesy, Potter?”

Harry rolled his eyes, knowing that Snape wasn’t really angry. “No. I know because you’ve told me the exact same thing a hundred times over. But, sir, the Headmaster...”

“As it happens,” Snape continued, talking over the top of Harry, and for the first time, Harry noticed a thin strain of excitement in the man’s voice, “this is a fortunate circumstance. I was about to come and find you, Potter.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, deciding it would be best to ask about what Dumbledore had said earlier. “How come?”

Snape gestured to the cauldron nearest him. “I have succeeded in completing the final brew. It just needs to simmer until eight o’clock in the morning and we will have our way home.”

Harry was speechless. He knew Snape had said that he would need five days at the least... but he hadn’t expected the man to actually make that deadline. He had almost been counting on having the extra two days to say goodbye to the people he had become close to. Harry’s heart sank.

“Well, sir... that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Harry started, uncertainly.

Snape turned to face Harry for the first time since he had entered the room, his eyes narrowing. “You cannot mean to suggest that you are actually considering staying here?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft.

Harry swallowed hard. “Uh... yes... that is, the Headmaster mentioned that it would be possible for me to stay here and train for the next twenty years...” his voice trailed off under the force of Snape’s glare.

“Do not be ridiculous. Damn that old man!” Snape hissed, slamming his hand into the nearest hard surface with such force that Harry jumped. “And I suppose the Headmaster conveniently forgot to mention our presence here has already been discovered by the Dark Lord? Let me assure you, he is most eager to get his hands on us for questioning. We are in danger every minute we do not take the potion.”

Harry stared, feeling as if the floor had been pulled out from underneath him. Voldemort knew... Voldemort knew that he was here! Of course, he wouldn’t know the significance of the two time-travellers, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t want them under his power... stealing their knowledge of the future through torture.

I’ve been living in a dream world. I forgot that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were still out there, even if they weren’t my concern anymore... But still... He’ll have forgotten about me by the end of the week, and I’ll be able to go into hiding after that...

“I still think I would prefer to remain behind... Sir,” Harry muttered through gritted teeth, wanting to flinch at the look Snape was giving him.

“Don’t you even understand the danger you are in, you foolish boy? How easily you can be captured and killed during the two days I am not here to protect you?”

Snape seemed very angry, but underneath that anger there was something else – concern, worry for Harry’s well-being – and that made it all the harder to say what needed to be said.

“I understand that, but risks are worth taking if you think about the benefits. I’ll be able to fight Vold– the Dark Lord properly if I do this.”

“I cannot believe I am having this discussion with a child,” Snape snarled, all composure slipping. “You do not have a choice in the matter; you are coming down here at half-past seven tomorrow morning, you are taking the potion and you are coming back to the correct time where, despite the fact the Dark Lord is out to kill all of us, there will be people actually trained to protect you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry snapped sullenly.

Yeah, I understand all right. I understand enough to know that when half past seven comes tomorrow morning, I won’t be anywhere you can find me – even if it means hiding in the Forbidden Forest for the next two days. The Marauders are bound to know of somewhere...

Yes, he could see Snape’s point – even the reasoning behind it – but he was damned if he was going to let anyone order him around. He’d spent more than half his life submitting to Vernon Dursley’s whims, but no more, not when he was old enough to make decisions for himself!

Turning on his heel, he strode towards the dungeon door, not caring about the man glaring at his back.

See you in twenty years, Snape.

“Mr Potter.”

“What?” Harry snarled, hand already on the door handle. He did not look back.

“I apologise for being sharp. I understand your position, and while the Headmaster’s proposal must be very alluring, you must realise that going back now is the only sensible course of action.”

Harry throat tightened, even as his hand tightened on the door. Despite Snape’s tone being as impassive as always, his words suggested compassion, which made it all the harder for Harry to stand against him.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered and slipped out into the darkened corridor.

So here it was then; the simple choice between who he trusted the most – Dumbledore or Snape. On the one hand, Dumbledore had always been kind and compassionate, had always seemingly cared about what Harry had to say, while on the other there was Snape; snarky, nasty, who had hated him for four years. It should have been an easy choice.

But it wasn’t.

Dumbledore wouldn’t have pulled Harry behind him at the first sign of trouble – he would have pushed Harry in front to deal with it, to make him stronger. Dumbledore wouldn’t have hexed Harry’s friends simply because they’d upset him. Dumbledore hadn’t given up his free time to teach Harry in the arts of advanced Defence simply because Harry had asked him – Snape had. Snape had done all of these things and – even when the man had loathed him – had still tried to protect Harry at every turn.

It should have been simple... but it wasn’t. And the more he thought about it, the more he realised Snape had a point; he should go back to the Tower, wake the Marauders and Lily and say goodbye before going to bed for the last time in 1975. He shouldn’t merely stay because of some sentimental need to know his parents for the brief six years before they died. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to change the past – he might end up stopping himself from being born, or Voldemort from being defeated for the first time. The only sensible thing to do would be to give in to fate and go back to where he belonged.

Looking around himself, Harry suddenly noticed that he had wandered deeper into the dungeons while lost in thought. Stopping, he turned back the way he’d come... and got the shock of his life.

Eight burly Slytherins stood behind him, smiling in the most disconcerting way. Harry gulped and tried to side-step, his instincts from the day of ‘Harry-hunting’ kicking in as he ducked his head and apologised for getting in their way.

A large hand was held in front of his chest, sending him stumbling backwards away from them.

“Oh no, little Potter,” the one at the front, seemingly the ringleader. “The Dark Lord wants a word with you.”

Harry gasped and scrabbled for his wand as soon as the words ‘Dark Lord’ had made it out of the other boy’s mouth, hoping to distract them long enough to run deeper into the dungeons and lose them. But just as his hand closed around the handle, a spell slammed into him from behind, sending him tumbling into pitch blackness.

Strangely, his only thought as he fell was: Snape...

Harry coughed out the dust that seemed insistent on making its way into his lungs and lifted his head blearily. His scar was burning so fiercely he almost couldn’t see.

Death Eaters.

Harry gasped in a breath, which only sent him into another coughing fit and scrambled to his feet, swaying. The sound of cold, high laughter filled his ears and he turned towards the sound, hand already reaching for his wand... which wasn’t there.

Voldemort stood before him, looking both familiar and completely different; the bright red eyes were the same and so was the drawn, white skin, but this version of Tom Riddle looked a lot more human. Thick, brown hair still grew from his head and his fingers were strong, no longer the thin, spider-like things Harry had last seen. With a jolt, Harry realised that this was how Voldemort must have looked when he tried to kill Harry the first time, and felt a surge of anger rush through him.

Voldemort stopped laughing and regarded Harry with arrogant amusement. “And so our little guest joins us for the evening. How shall we entertain him, my faithful?”

A low murmur of amusement ran around the circle, but Voldemort just kept staring at Harry, a cold smile etched on his face, head cocked slightly to one side. Harry didn’t dare take his eyes off the evil man, feeling like a mouse trapped in the gaze of a rattlesnake. One wrong move and he’d be dead.

I should have listened to Snape...

Voldemort idly twirled his wand between his fingers. “Welcome, young Potter. I am Lord Voldemort – welcome to my court.” He idly flicked one wrist as if to display the large ballroom that Harry had just realised they were standing in. “I wonder if you have heard of me in your time... Hmm, but no matter. My loyal followers have brought you here so that I may ask you a few questions.”

Harry felt himself shaking with temper. How dare this man – this murderer – even try to pretend that he was anything other than wicked? That he would simply put Harry back after he’d squeezed all the information he could from him? Harry’s only chance was to keep him talking... and look for an opening to escape, or to make him so angry that he made a mistake. With Death Eaters on all sides, he knew he stood a very slim chance of getting out of this alive but he had to try.

“Yeah, I know who you are, Tom!” he sneered with false bravado, even as his hands – which were hidden in his pockets – started to shake with fear. “And I don’t care much for you. I would never answer any question you gave me, even if was to ask the time of day!” Harry finished his sentence and clenched his jaw tight, praying that he’d be able to hide the fact that he was terrified from his antagonist. Towards the end of his speech, his voice had started quavering imperceptibly as Voldemort’s expression changed from surprise to masked anger.

“So,” Voldemort hissed, voice deceptively calm, “little Potter doesn’t want to play. You may grandstand all you like, but you will end up telling me that which I will in the end – they always do. Tell me, Potter, have you ever been on the receiving end of an Unforgivable?”

Harry clenched his jaw tighter – until his teeth hurt – but there was no way he was going to give Voldemort anything he wanted, not even for the satisfaction for telling him that Harry’d been under all three at his hand and had survived.

The Dark Lord’s smile became even crueller as he mistook Harry’s silence for ‘no’. “Well, then, let me introduce you, Harry.” He raised his wand and Harry braced himself. “Unless...” – he lowered it again – “unless you have something useful to tell me?”

“I have nothing to tell you, Voldemort!” Harry spat.

“Such a pity,” Voldemort sighed and raised his wand again, this time with intent, his features twisting into ugly shapes as he prepared to spit out a curse.

“Wait!” Harry gasped, panicking, the words tumbling over each other as they fought to get out. “Not honourable enough to give me my own wand? Don’t you know that only cowards attack unarmed...”

“Crucio.”

Painpainpainpainpain. World going dark. Screams around him. No light. Pain. His screams. Fearpainfear. Oh please God, let it stop. No more. I’mscared, I’mscared, I’mbreaking. Please stop.

The agony fell away and Harry came back to himself.

“Nothing to tell me, Harry?” a soft voice mocked.

Harry spat blood out of his mouth – must have bitten his tongue – and snarled, “Never, you bastard!” His voice was a hoarse replica of its former self.

“Such a pity,” the voice sighed again. “Crucio.”

Pain. Agony. White hot needles. Bone deep. Stabbing, twisting, breaking, hurting, hurting, hurting. Blackness going white. Dying, I’m dying, it hurts please stop no more. PAIN!

The world collapsed, at least what it felt like to Harry. It took him several minutes to realise that it had only been the cession of the curse and nothing more. His breath came in harsh pants, echoing through the loud silence. Every limb ached and twitched, as if his nerves were still trying to tell him to twist away from the source of the agony.

A mock-gentle hand stroked his hair and a fresh spike shot through his scar, causing him to moan and try to twist away despite his body being unable to obey.

“Poor Harry,” the soft voice crooned in his ear. “You’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you? But it doesn’t have to be like this. Just tell me one little thing from the future and I’ll make it all better. You see this?” A quiet clink rang through the room as Voldemort set down a small phial of liquid in front of Harry’s half-open, gritty eyes. “For each one thing you tell me, you get a sip of this. After each sip, you’re pain will lessen and lessen until it fades away entirely. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it, Harry? A removal of pain for just a little bit of information? That’s not so bad at all.”

He’s right. It’s not as if any information I give him will be worth anything after two more days, and it hurts so much!

I don’t want to hurt anymore. I don’t want any more Cruciatus to be cast on me. Information really is a little thing compared to more pain.

But...

A lot can happen in two days. Look at me. People can be captured, killed, tortured just because of something I say. If I give in now, there might not be a future to go back to. And besides, who’s to say that’s really a cure? It’s not like I could ever be able to trust him...

Harry drew a long, shuddery breath, and let it hiss out of his mouth in two syllables, “’uck. You.”

The hand stroking his forehead suddenly became harsh, fisting in his hair and slamming his head hard into the marble flooring. His glasses – which had been holding up valiantly until then – cracked and shattered.

“So be it,” the voice hissed, going high and cold. “Crucio!”

Pain.

“Crucio!”

Pain.

“Crucio!”

PAIN!

Harry was going mad. He was sure of it. Just like the Longbottoms. How much Cruciatus could one person take? He felt he had already passed breaking point long ago. So why could he still think? It was almost as if Voldemort wasn’t concentrating properly.

“Those you see around you are my inner circle, Potter,” the voice whispered. “They are the most faithful, most loyal, but I have just Summoned the rest of my followers to witness in your death. Someone like you should be made an example of so that it can be known no one can stand before Lord Voldemort, not even time travellers! Does it make you feel proud, Harry? That so many are coming to witness in you death? Almost like,” a soft laugh, “you’re famous.”

And isn’t that ironic? You’re crazy, Voldemort! I’m just a fifteen year old boy. I never wanted to be anyone special, all I wanted was for someone to love me, to care for me, like a mother... or a father...

“Crucio.”

Pain was back. Pain upon pain. Unending agony. Twisting, gripping, strangling, hurting. Enough, pleaseenoughnomore. Painpainpainpainpain. Light, dark, sparkling, twisting, dancing. Pretty light. Pain fading. Pull back, away from pain, hide me, hide deep, never come back...

“Stupefy!”

The pain stopped but Harry found he didn’t particularly care as he allowed his mind to drift deeper and deeper. Soon, nothing would be able to hurt him ever again.

“Harry!”

Wait, he knew that voice. He struggled not to lock himself away just yet and found it much harder than he expected.

A hand grabbed his upper arm tight and yanked him across the floor, sending spikes of agony rocketing through him, but this time the pain wasn’t so bad – was it? – because it meant that this was real.

“Harry, hold on.”

That voice again. Yells and flashes of light were going on around him and Harry just had to know what was going on. He struggled against the rushing tide of blackness that threatened to trap him in his own mind and tried to fight towards the sound of that voice. Something thin and cold slipped around his neck and he was pulled tight against a strong, warm body and then suddenly, everything was whirling, the world twisting away from under his body, until the only thing solid left was the person behind him, holding him tight.

It was too much. Harry gave up against the rush of the tide and allowed himself to topple into darkness.

With a sound between a groan and a gasp, Harry pulled himself back to consciousness and lay panting, weak as a kitten, scared to open his eyes in case he didn’t like where he’d washed up.

Gradually he became aware of steady breathing filling the air around him and the strong smell of antiseptic. All of his limbs hurt terribly, right down to the bone, though not quite as bad as it had before. His stomach was twisted in a knot as if he was going to throw up and his head was fuzzy and throbbing, making him sure that even the slightest bit of light making its way into it would cause him to lose consciousness again from the pain.

In short, he felt awfulawfulawful, but would live.

Deciding to risk unconsciousness, Harry slitted one eye open the barest crack. The room around him was blissfully dark, but he couldn’t quite remember the reason why he felt like he wasn’t alone in the room.

Then he remembered the person breathing nearby and, achingly slowly, turned his head to the side.

Professor Snape lay in the chair beside him, fast asleep, and looking as drawn as Harry felt. One of his hands was placed on the bed beside Harry, almost as if the Professor had been holding his hand earlier, but had slipped away when he too surrendered to sleep.

Looking at Snape, Harry felt a wave of relief crash over him. It was real. It hadn’t been a dream. Just as Harry had been ready to slip away into fragile insanity, Professor Snape had come and rescued him, exactly as Harry had prayed he would in the secrecy of his deepest thoughts. And now he felt so safe, knowing that the Professor wouldn’t let anything harm him. Not here. Not now.

Straining his fingers to reach over the blanket, Harry managed to touch Snape’s hand in silent thanks.

Snape immediately gave a silent gasp and bolted upright, eyes flickering through the room to try and pick out any possible danger. Eventually his gaze fell on the bed – and Harry’s slitted eyes – and he stood up abruptly, his hand slipping away from Harry’s as he did so.

“Harry,” he murmured, leaning over the bed. “I am going to give you a potion that will take away some of your pain, but you will need to co-operate with me and swallow when it reaches the back of your throat. Understood?”

Harry tried to speak, but managed nothing more than a gargled whimper, which Snape took for assent.

Snape slowly eased Harry into a more upright position, ignoring his pained whimpers and moans in favour of leaning Harry against him, so the man could tip Harry’s head back.

“Foolish boy!” Snape muttered, his deep voice soothing rather than grating as he gently helped Harry swallow down the dark liquid of the nerve pacifier. “Did I not warn you to be careful? Did I not tell you the Dark Lord was after us both? But no, you had to storm off in a snit and get yourself captured and brought before the Dark Lord himself. What am I going to do with you, foolish child? That’s it, swallow now, that’s it. It will start to work in just a few minutes and then you can start telling me why you did such a stupid thing as to let your guard down, yes?”

Harry felt another slight tremor of pain and whimpered again as it taxed his already over-fried nerves.

“Hush, now. Relax. It will hurt at first, but then the pain will fade. Hush, you stupid child.”

Snape’s voice was still soft and wonderfully lulling, and Harry found himself drifting, listening more to the inflection of it than to what was actually being said. A gentle hand was stirring the very tips of his hair, but Harry felt in nonetheless, and he allowed himself to drowse, halfway between sleeping and waking as the potion did its work.

“S... sorry,” he managed weakly, after the potion finally reduced the pain he was feeling to normal levels. “S... stupid.”

“Hush. Drink this. It is for your overstretched muscles.”

Another potion was held up to his mouth –this one a dirty yellow – but Harry whined and tried to twist away, feeling extremely childish but unable to help it.

“Enough of this.”

Harry felt his head being gently tipped back once more and tried to fight it, eventually giving in as the liquid started to slip down his throat.

“You have been extremely ill. How will you recover in time to say goodbye to your parents while they still remember you if you don’t drink your medicine, hmm? Don’t be silly now.”

“’s... Pr’f’ss’r.”

“Good. Now go back to sleep.”

“’s...”

The next time Harry awoke, he was feeling much more with it, even a little hungry. Groaning, his hands shaking from the remaining nerve damage, he scrabbled for his glasses on the side table, only able to locate them when someone pushed them into his hand.

“Huh?”

Someone’s shaky fingers smoothed over his scar and pushed his fringe out of his eyes. Harry opened his eyes, squinting through the darkness. There seemed to be a lot of people around his bed. At least, their blurred shapes looked like people. He slipped his repaired glasses on and blinked in surprise as the room snapped into focus.

“Oh, Harry!” Lily leaned in and finished off pushing his fringe off his face. “When we heard you’d been captured– that you’d been hurt–” With a sob, she broke off and gently pulled Harry into a hug. His skin protested as it was touched, but he leaned into the embrace all the same, after all, it was the first – and probably the last – time that he could remember his mother comforting him.

“Evil bastard.”

He turned his head slightly, which still felt sore and stuffy, and caught sight of James and the other Marauders sitting on the other side of the bed, all looking quite pale.

“Hey.” His voice came out hoarse and scratchy, but more easily than i had before. Which reminded him... “Where’s... Snape?”

“Sev didn’t come, but he was worried about you too... even though he wouldn’t admit it,” Lily said, drawing back and smiling.

“Tell him... thanks,” Harry said, smiling slightly. “But, I meant...”

“He means Snape from his time,” James muttered, sounding slightly disapproving, but resigned all the same. “He went to brew more potions for you and allowed us to watch over you instead – on pain of excruciating agony if we let you overstrain yourself. So no marathons just yet, OK?”

“’Kay. What time, well, what day is it?”

“Thursday afternoon – only a few more hours until Dumbledore’s spell starts to work,” Lupin piped up. “We were beginning to wonder if we’d be able to say goodbye.”

A knot settled in Harry’s stomach. He’d almost lost them without a proper farewell for the second time and it was such a relief to know that he hadn’t missed out that he couldn’t speak for a moment.

“Thanks, guys,” he whispered. “I’m going to miss you so much when I go.”

James made as if to punch him on the shoulder, but reconsidered at the last moment. “You’ll see us on the other side, yeah? We’ll be waiting for you.”

James’s words almost clogged up Harry’s throat again as the second meaning of those words – the one James hadn’t meant, but that was true all the same – hit Harry between the eyes. He managed to remain in control of himself to choke out, “Yeah. Yeah, ‘course.”

“It’s been great, Harry!” Sirius added in, his huge grin infectious. “I’ll always be sure to remember the Fantastic Food Fight! Don’t forget to show me the photo of you nailing Snape with the cake when you get back.”

Harry snorted in remembrance. “I won’t, I promise. But in the mean time, you all have to promise to get V... You-Know-Who back for me since I can’t, OK? And don’t get caught!”

A round of laughter came from the Marauders’ side of the room, while Lily just rolled her eyes and muttered, “Boys!” sounding so much like Hermione that Harry had to give a soft, wheezing laugh too.

“Listen,” James said, turning earnest again, “Snape’ll be back soon. So... bye, Harry. This week has just been the best! Stay safe, Windhover.”

“Great to know you, Prongslet,” Sirius said, his grin now tempered with a bit of sadness as he ruffled Harry’s hair. “I’ll prank that bastard of a Dark Lord so badly he won’t know what hit him!”

“If Dumbledore’s spell lets you remember to,” Harry said softly.

Sirius snorted and rolled his eyes. “That old spell only affects memory – not emotions. And I most certainly hate that son of a bitch enough now to give him a good taste of the Marauder temper!”

Lupin stepped forward and gently rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “And I’ll make sure they those two idiots keep their heads while doing it.”

Harry grinned. “Thanks, Moony. P- Peter?” he asked, suddenly feeling the full conflict of his emotions concerning the small, chubby boy and the man he would become – hate warring with sympathy, warring with concern, warring with disgust. “I need you to help Remus with looking after these two – keep them out of too much trouble and don’t let them forget that while they’re talented, it doesn’t mean that they’re invulnerable. Can you do that for me? Remind them to be cautious?”

Harry smiled as he watched the short boy nodding eagerly. He knew it wouldn’t make any difference, but he felt better saying it and maybe, maybe someday in the future, Wormtail would remember that he had once had honour... and true loyalty.

“Bye, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs,” he added, starting to smirk. “Mischief managed.”

Another laugh sounded out through the small, hospital bedroom and he found himself on the receiving end of many gentle pats, hugs, and hair ruffling. He was quite certain that he saw the flash of a camera go off at some point. Laughing himself, he weakly fought free and waved as Lupin, Sirius and Pettigrew walked out through the door, Sirius only pausing to drop another small stack of photos on his bedside table.

“Harry,” James said seriously once only he and Lily remained behind, “we know that Voldemort destroyed your wand...”

James’s words hit Harry like a kick in the gut and he didn’t hear anything much past that; his ears were filled with a dull roaring.

My wand? But what about the twin phoenix cores? The Prioi Incantatum? How am I supposed to stand against Voldemort now? How can I...?

His panic was interrupted as he realised that James was holding out two wands to him. One was a similar dark colour to Harry’s lost one, while the other one had a paler, light colour and was slightly shorter.

“What...?”

“They’re mine and Lily’s,” James said, shifting uncomfortably. “Whichever one is the best fit for you, you can keep. No,” he said as Harry opened his mouth to protest. “Losing your first ‘chosen’ wand can be a huge blow to your magic for quite a while afterwards... unless a close family relative gives up one of theirs. And from the way Snape was talking, it looks like you need a compatible wand more than either of us.”

“But...”

“Harry,” Lily said softly. “Pick one. We really don’t mind.”

“I... OK.” Harry picked up the paler wand and gave it a quick swish. Pale silver sparks shot out of the end, though it was nowhere near as strong a reaction as he had had to his own wand. He felt another pang of loss that he would never hold that familiar holly ever again. Sighing, he picked up the darker one and felt an immediate zing of power shoot up his arm. Holding his breath, he waved the wand and watched as a bright shower of golden sparks lit up the room.

“Excellent! That’s mahogany and phoenix feather, by the way. Eleven inches,” James enthused, picking up the paler wand and handing it back to Lily. “I’ll be able to get Uncle Walter’s spare wand off him at last. That one’s always worked best for me anyway.”

Harry glanced down at James’s – no, his – wand in his hand and couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He’d been secretly hoping that Lily’s wand would have been more compatible; after all, he had so few things of his mother’s – just a few photos and an unwilling older sister, who’d been killed several months earlier anyway. He sighed softly.

Never mind.

“Harry,” Lily whispered, seeming to correctly read his mood, “I wanted to give this to you, regardless of whether you got my wand or not.” She reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out the crucifix Harry had noticed her wearing earlier. It was very simple – just two bars of silver crossing over each other – but Harry could tell it had been much loved.

“I... I can’t accept that,” he whispered uncertainly.

“Of course you can. Here.” She quickly looped it around his neck and smiled softly. “You look after it for me so it can look after you.”

“Thank you.” His throat felt very tight once more and Harry briefly wondered if it was a side effect of the potions he’d taken.

“So... umm, Harry.”

Harry turned back to James, slightly taken aback by the uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Yeah, umm...” James suddenly moved forward again and pulled Harry into a sideways hug. “Bye, Harry. I feel like I should say something fatherly now... but I’ve no idea what.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry mumbled, voice shaking a little as he hugged him back tightly. “Bye, James.”

Harry’s sore muscles protested as James let him go. The other boy nodded once and walked hurriedly from the room, his head bowed.

“You know...” Lily said softly, “he may not be so bad after all.”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered, discreetly making sure that neither of his eyes had betrayed him. “Not so bad.”

Lily hesitated for a moment. “Snape was telling the truth, wasn’t he?”

“What truth?” Harry blinked up at her in confusion from under his messy hair.

Lily regarded him steadily. “About James and I not living past twenty one.”

“No, of course not. Don’t be silly,” Harry said hurriedly, glancing away from her.

“Harry, I’m not daft. When you look at me and James sometimes... you look almost desperate. Like if you blink, you’ll miss something important. You can tell me. I won’t even remember after another few hours anyway. You can tell me, Harry.”

“Yes,” Harry rasped, feeling both terribly guilty for being so selfish for needing to tell, and at the same time relieved that he could finally tell. “You both d-die defending me from Voldemort. That’s where I got this scar” – he reached up to touch his forehead, still not looking at her – “where he tried to cast the Killing Curse but my mother’s love – your love – protected me. And then I had to go and live at Aunt Petunia’s and she really didn’t like me, and made me do loads of chores and made me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs–” Harry bit his lip hard to break off the flow of words that didn’t seem to want to stop on their own.

A soft sob came from his side, then another and another. Harry looked up to see tears running down Lily’s face.

“Lily... I, I’m so sorry... I shouldn’t have said anything... I–”

“Shh,” Lily whispered through her sobs. “I’m not c-crying for me Harry, I’m... I’m crying for you. I’m so sorry. Can you... can you ever forgive me for leaving you?”

Harry swallowed hard. “I... ’Course I have. I know you didn’t want to...”

He was suddenly cut off by Lily pulling him into a tight hug. His body protested mightily at yet more of the rough treatment, but he didn’t try to pull free, instead putting his arms around her, closing his eyes and hugging her back, suddenly realising that it felt like he’d been hugged more in the last fifteen minutes than he had in his entire life.

“Really now. I leave for a mere half hour and this is what I return to find?” a familiar, sneering voice asked from the doorway.

Laughing, Lily pulled back and scrubbed the tears from her eyes. “Well, Sev, you know me – always emotional. Bye, Harry,” she added softly. “I know we’ll see each other again in heaven, but make sure Sev looks after you for me in the mean time. You hear that, Sev?” she called over her shoulder. “You take care of my son for me.”

And then she was gone, just like the others.

Harry looked up at Snape, flushing slightly as he wondering if his eyes were red. They shouldn’t be; he hadn’t cried at all. Not really.

Luckily, Snape decided not to comment, instead striding forward and handing him a phial filled with murky liquid. “Drink this. It should deal with most of your lingering symptoms and give you enough strength to walk up to the Headmaster’s office. You won’t be able to fully get your co-ordination back for a further two weeks, but you will be able to function.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered, pinching his nose as he downed the vile substance. “Ugh. Ugh! That tastes horrible.”

Snape wordlessly handed him the water jug and Harry managed to down two full glasses before his mouth felt relatively normal again. His aches and pains, though, had thankfully faded away to almost nothing.

Snape pulled a stack of photos out of his pocket and placed them next to the pile already on the side table. “I collected these from your dormitory.” Then, most uncharacteristically, he hesitated. “Have you any questions you wished to ask me?” he asked, sneer evidently covering up some kind of discomfort.

“Well...” Harry cautiously put the water glass down. “I was wondering how you knew where I was – how you managed to rescue me. I was so certain I was going to die.”

“I am well aware of that!” Snape snapped. “You’d almost completely retreated into your own mind by the time I’d reached you. Had you succeeded, you would have earned yourself a bed next to Longbottom’s parents in St Mungo’s!”

Harry winced and ducked his head. “Sorry.”

He heard Snape sigh above him. “It was not your fault. I am... proud” – Snape twisted the word out as if it was something nasty – “that you held up as well as you did.”

Harry’s head snapped up in astonishment. “You-!” He clicked his jaw shut as he realised that commenting would only result in encouraging insults from the man. “Well... err, I mean, what happened, though?”

Snape gave him a fierce look, before relenting and settling down in the chair beside the bed. “It would appear that the Dark Mark” – Snape’s left arm twitched as he spoke – “reacts to the call of its Master regardless of what time it is in. I had already guessed that the Dark Lord had spirited you away, so all I had to do was follow the Call and, once I had located you, use my emergency Portkey to take us directly to the Hospital Wing.” Snape glanced at Harry through narrowed eyes. “I... regret... that I was unable to retrieve your wand.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to squirm. “I... um... that’s OK. James gave me his. I mean, I’ll miss it loads, but I’ve got his now.” He held up the mahogany wand for Snape’s inspection, still feeling the hum of power under his fingers that meant the wand had chosen him.

Snape sneered at it, but conceded with a nod, his expression slipping into quickly-masked shock as he also noticed the thin, metal cross hanging around Harry’s neck. “That... Lily lost that in our fifth year. She’d had it since she was six and she lost it...”

“I didn’t want to take it,” Harry explained quickly. “But she insisted.”

“Hmm.” Snape’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “Then you had better take care of it.”

“I will,” Harry said hastily. “Are we... when we go to Dumbledore’s office, will we be going home then?”

“That remains to be seen.” The man’s expression softened a little. “I may have been too hasty to dismiss the Headmaster’s idea earlier, especially as the deadline for most people’s memories of this incident will expire within mere hours instead of days...” Snape trailed off and regarded Harry with a raised eyebrow.

Remembering his previous temper tantrum, Harry flushed and shifted a little. “I... think I’ve changed my mind,” he rushed out before he could lose his nerve. “I mean, the main reason I would be staying here would be to get to know my parents better, but that’s stupid, right? It would only hurt so much more once I lost them again – I’m not stupid enough to think I can change the past. And you were right – back home I have people who are able to protect me so much better than anyone here... So... can I come with you?”

Snape gave a wry smirk. “I do believe you are growing up.” He stood in one fluid gesture and beckoned Harry. “Come. We need to leave as soon as possible. I daresay your friends are extremely worried about you as it is.”

“But...” Harry scrambled out of bed, surprised to find himself fully clothed following a flick from Snape’s wand. His legs bowed as they almost forget to bear his weight, but Snape’s quick intervention of grabbing his arm saved him from landing in an undignified heap in the floor.

“Careful, foolish child,” the man hissed in exasperation, using both hands to help steady him. “Only you could forget that you have been deathly ill for the past couple of days. Here.” Snape picked the photos up from the night table and shoved them into Harry’s hands. “Do not forget them.”

“But, I don’t understand!” Harry gasped out, juggling the photographs so he didn’t drop one. “Surely the potion will take us back to the exact time we left, so they won’t have missed us at all.”

“On the contrary...” Snape’s lips twisted into a sneer as he admitted, “Magic is more complicated than that – I did not have enough time to adapt the potion for that purpose, so instead, we shall arrive back precisely a week after we left. That will have given everyone more than sufficient time to ponder our fate, well, your fate” – a corner of Snape’s mouth curled up as if he were amused by something – “I doubt anyone will care about what has happened to me.”

Snape gently tugged Harry out of the room, keeping a firm grip on Harry’s elbow and making sure he stayed steady, not even giving time for Harry to absorb the latest bombshell he had dropped. Harry tried to pull free several times on the long walk – after all, he wasn’t a child anymore – but Snape refused to let go. Eventually, he gave up, instead resigning himself to be carefully pulled through the hallways towards the Headmaster’s office. And besides, it was rather nice to be taken care of... not that he would admit that.

Snape’s face soured as he neared the gargoyle guarding the spiral staircase, acidly snapping out “Jumping Gumdrops!” as if the sweets had mortally offended him. Which, considering the many varying talents of sweets in the Wizarding World, was indeed most likely the case.

Tired out already by the journey from the Hospital Wing up many flights of stairs, Harry didn’t bother to comment, only following where Snape led him, limbs aching and filled with the dull hope that he might be ‘home’ soon. Snape rapped on the Headmaster’s door, barely waiting for the cheerful “Enter!” before pushing the door open.

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, idly fiddling with one of his many instruments. As Harry and Snape walked through the door, he glanced up and smiled sadly. “I take you will not be accepting my offer then, Harry?”

Harry gave a quick shake of his head. “’Fraid not, sir.”

“Ah, well.” Dumbledore waved a nonchalant hand. “These things happen. But I must say I am simply glad to see you well and back on your feet.” His infamous twinkle sparkling in his eyes, Dumbledore stood to his feet and pulled two phials of liquid out of his pocket. “I kept them safe just as you asked, Severus. May I wish you both a pleasant... journey.”

Snape simply nodded, but Harry only managed a weak smile as his strength began to wane once more, his mind blanking out the rest of the conversation as his vision blurred a little.

I hope we don’t have to wait much longer... all I want to do is to go back to bed.

A glass tube was shoved into his hands and he was told to ‘Drink,’ so he did. The world dissolved around him, leaving him gasping and clinging to the only solid thing that seemed to be travelling with him through this endless void.

His feet hit the floor and suddenly the air was filled with screams. The person he was holding onto was wrenched away as someone else grabbed him into a rib-cracking hug, screaming “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” into his ear.

He managed to shakily wrap his arms around the person holding him. “Hi, H’rmione,” he murmured. “Missed you.”

Then he blacked out.

It’s only a matter of perspective, really.

Harry mused on this matter as he walked down to the dungeons for what felt like the sixtieth time in the last two weeks. After his rather inauspicious return from the past, he’d woken once again in the Hospital Wing, only this time with Sirius holding vigil at his bedside. Harry secretly suspected that Snape would have been more than willing to fill the post had Sirius not been there. Not that Harry would ever ask the man – he’d only deny it – but Harry now knew that Snape would always be there if he had need of him.

Well, after he had woken, he’d received a positive flood of visitors, wanting to know if he was all right and where on earth he’d been. He’d only told Ron, Hermione, Lupin and Sirius the full truth, showing them the pictures the Marauders had taken and laughing about them. There were some that even Harry hadn’t seen – the one when he’d been in the hospital bed and surrounded by the both Marauders and Lily for example. That one Harry treasured the most.

It had only been later, when he was back in Gryffindor Tower with Ron and Hermione, that he’d allowed himself to cry a little for the parents he’d lost twice. They had been so full of life, so happy with their lives and it just wasn’t fair. It had made Harry’s hatred for Voldemort burn stronger – made him certain that one day he would sort that good-for-nothing sadist once and for all! He may not have twenty years in front of him to learn everything he could, but he was confident of what he already knew and had realised that anything else on top of that was a bonus. And if McGonagall taught him to be a proper Animagus like she’d promised... well that would be just awesome!

And as for the future... well... he had no idea where he was going to go next summer, but the Headmaster had made strong hints about Snape wanting to take him aside and start training him properly. Even a month ago Harry would have violently protested about having to spend so much time with the bad-tempered, snarky Professor, but now... it was strange how peculiar events could bring you closer to someone. Maybe this time he’d even allow Harry to see Sirius every now and again – that is if the man hadn’t been sighted by the authorities recently.

Still musing this, Harry raised his hand to open the familiar dungeon door. It shook a tiny bit as he grasped the handle, but he was nowhere near as bad as he had been. There had been points over the last few weeks where he hadn’t even been able to hold a quill, and Hermione had had to take notes for him, all the while shooting Harry sympathetic looks, which strangely weren’t as annoying as they had been before. Everyone had their own way of dealing with things, and while Snape’s brusque manner wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, it worked well enough for the man himself – just as Hermione mothering him worked well for her.

“’Evening, Professor,” Harry stated breezily as he hurried into the room. “Anything you need me to do?”

Snape glanced up from the cauldron he was glaring at. “Good evening, Potter. As a matter of fact, today we shall be focusing on your offensive spell repertoire. There are glaringly obvious holes in your knowledge that even the most basic of First Years would be able to spot. After that if we still have time, we shall work on various healing poultices and spells. Now, take up your duelling position.”

It was, Harry reflected as he took up the familiar duelling position – silently imagining being able to best Snape for once – only a matter of perspective.