It was still a bit early for lunch and Albus departed for his classes when it appeared his presence was no longer welcome. Draco was happy to get rid of Albus and he didn't care if the nosy prat's feelings were at all hurt. The young boy's constant questions were annoying and much of what Albus asked, none of them could answer. In silence, they headed toward the field that would one day be home to the pumpkin patch near Hagrid's hut. Settling themselves on the grass, they were each lost in their own thoughts until Ron broke the silence.

"Your dad seemed kind of neat, Harry." Harry smiled at Ron.

"I wish my mum could have appeared, too." Harry plucked at a wildflower. "Do you think he was real?"

"As real as my dream was last night," affirmed Ron with a grin. "I wish I could fly like that all the time!"

Draco turned slightly away. He was in no mood to be reminded of the dream he'd had. As he briefly shut his eyes, the flash of his father's dagger against Hermione's throat shocked him and he gasped.

"What's with you, Malfoy?" asked Harry. "You've been uncharacteristically quiet this morning. No insults at all."

"Yeah, we might get the false impression you like us," jibed Ron.

"Never," growled Draco. Shifting the attention off of himself, he faced the red-head. "What was your dream about, Ron?"

Ron blinked, surprised to be asked, "What do you care?"

Draco shrugged. "Something to talk about, I s'pose. So, give, what was it?" He grinned sardonically. "Chess or Quidditch?"

"Quidditch, I'll bet," snickered Harry.

Ron glowered. "As if neither of you have dreamt about Quidditch."

"So, come on, Ron. Why do you say this dream was so real?" asked Hermione.

Ron shrugged now as he felt put on the spot. "I just... well, I can remember everything. Flying over the Quidditch pitch and doing rolls and spins I... I well, you know." Ron plucked at some of the grass and held it up. "It felt as real as this grass. I can remember my fingers getting cold, and the wind in my hair... there were storm clouds coming in, too. Oh, and you know how Dumbledore always smells of citrus and dust, Harry? I could smell that, too." Ron frowned for a second and then smiled at the memory. "He said I'd be as good a seeker as you, Harry."

"Not!" Harry glared mockingly and then grinned.

"So that was the dream?" scoffed Draco. "You dreamed about flying and Dumbledore?"

"Yeah. He asked how we were." Ron just shrugged and pulled up random blades of grass.

"I dreamt of Professor Dumbledore, too," Hermione said quietly as she recalled her own dream. "Professor Dumbledore asked me how Professor Snape was doing." She realized all three were listening raptly to her. "I was in the Potions classroom where I wanted to work out a problem, but Professor Dumbledore was there. He asked how you three were and then he asked, 'how would you say our beloved Potions instructor is doing so far out of his element?'"

"Beloved?" snorted Harry. Ron chuckled and Draco just shook his head.

Hermione scowled and crossed her arms defiantly. "You may not realize this, Harry, but Professor Dumbledore happens to care very much for Professor Snape."

Harry just rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back on the grass. He switched his attention to the clouds passing over them. The heavy darkness of one cloud gave him a chill that he tried to shake off. A brief blink and Voldemort's red eyes loomed toward him. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter in an effort to banish the memory.

"Potter, your scar!" gasped Draco.

Harry raised a hand to his scar, felt the uncomfortable twinge he always felt when touching the lightning bolt scar and quickly drew back his hand. There was a smudge of blood on his fingertips. Staring at the blood, he quietly asked, "Voldemort can't reach us here, can he?" None of them answered. "Last night I dreamt, first about Voldemort. He was as real as this..." Harry showed them the blood on his fingertips and then scrubbed them against the grass. "I ran from him and found myself in this dark house. It smelled old and there was dust and cobwebs and spiders everywhere. I ran into Sirius."

"Your mutt godfather, Potter?" sneered Draco as he nudged Harry's shoulder with his foot.

Harry shoved Malfoy's foot, knocking the blonde against Hermione. He rose partway and scowled, "Sirius is no worse than your vampire godfather, Malfoy." Malfoy raised his arms and bent his fingers into claws. He did a rather good impression of a Snapeish scowl and menaced Harry. Harry smirked. "When is he going to teach you that billowing robe trick of his?"

"After your mutt teaches you how to fetch!"

"What did you dream, Draco?" Hermione intervened before Draco decided to kick Harry.

Draco looked down just as Hermione placed a hand upon his arm. "Blood." He said simply as he looked up at Hermione's unmarked throat. "I killed my father." Draco rose to his feet and began to walk away.

Ron huffed. "Why does he keep doing that?" For a minute they watched as Draco strode away from them. Ron rose to his feet. "C'mon, if we lose him again, Snape'll feed us to the elves." Harry and Hermione followed Ron but all three kept behind Draco, allowing him some space to himself.

After trudging up the hill, Harry smirked, "Hermione, what's with the pirates?"

Hermione turned sharply and her cheeks blushed crimson. "Nothing!" She then sprinted ahead of Ron and Harry and slipped her arm into Draco's. Ron glared darkly. His look was very similar to the one on Harry's face as they watched the Slytherin and the Gryffindor arm in arm with each other.

They wandered a bit around the lake until Hermione reminded them it was time to meet Snape for lunch. Dreams, memories, and their future momentarily forgotten, they raced back to the castle. They did not stop as they pushed through the great door and continued to run like mad through the corridors and to the Gryffindor guest quarters. They burst through Snape's door, breathless and laughing at nothing and anything.

The dark figure of their professor stood by the lit fireplace. To his left was the table all set for lunch. At his obsidian glare, they quickly shaped themselves up and lined up next to each other. Snape crossed his arms and sighed as though the entire weight of the world rested on his shoulders. It was enough to wipe the last smile of mirth from their faces.

"I do believe you were told to be here at noon. It is now twenty-two minutes past." Snape stared just a few seconds longer and then pointed at the table. "Sit down and eat."

Without a word they each scrambled to their chairs and began filling their plates with food. Snape relaxed slightly and then went to his chair at the table and seated himself. Pouring himself some coffee, he ignored them while they ate in silence. He savored the coffee and allowed it to relax him a bit further.

"What were you doing this morning that caused such a delay?" he asked and immediately regretted his curiosity.

Harry, Ron and Hermione managed to fill the entire meal with their adventure in the Odd Room. Snape only had enough patience to hear part of the story and that came when he heard Harry mention the name of James Potter. Harry did not catch the change in his Potions teacher at the mention of his father and this gave Snape just enough time to compose himself. It was an old wound that didn't need to be opened here.

"Sir," Hermione asked as their stories began to wind down. "Do you have any idea what might have happened to the Odd Room? The sixth floor is nothing but an empty in our time."

Snape shook his head. "I am familiar with the legend of Corabine the Mad, but I have no knowledge of this Odd Room. I may have to get a glimpse of it later."

Snape cast a sidelong glance toward Draco. Throughout the relating of their adventure the boy had been unusually quiet and sullen. Normally he tried to take center stage, but had apparently been content to let the others speak. He was about to ask when Draco caught his discerning look and turned away. Snape took the hint, but with the intention that he would speak to Draco later. There was more important business at hand. Making sure that everyone was finished, he cleared the table of the dishes and leftovers with a wave of his hand.

"I have made a decision," he said. The tone of his voice did not bode well, for whatever this decision was. Harry crossed his arms over his chest, already prepared to protest. "Our research has reached an impasse and as much as I am loathe to admit any failings to my students," his sharp glare warned that none of them had better make any sort of joke or smart remark. "There is little more than we can do here."

"But professor! We've only been here three weeks!" Of course it would be Potter who would state the obvious. "Isn't it too early to give up?"

"Mr. Potter, did I say that we were giving up?" Snape really did wonder if Potter had a full brain in his head sometimes.

"Sounds to me like you're giving up," muttered Ron. "You just said you failed."

"Be quiet, Mr. Weasely." He faced Harry, knowing that Harry would be the one he'd have to convince before any of them would follow his decision. "We are not giving up, Mr. Potter. At the moment we are up against a brick wall, but I do believe we will discover a way through it. We are, however, presented with a more urgent problem that must be addressed." Snape was pleased to see that Harry's crossed arms were relaxing slightly. The boy was willing to at least consider his words.

"I made an egregious mistake when we arrived here in us using our real names. We are isolated and must be constantly on our guard not to reveal any of our futures. It is possible we may have already altered the future, but we cannot concern ourselves with that now."

"But only Professors Grailing and Arcahnum know who we are..." began Hermione.

"Miss Granger, would you mind holding your tongue until I have finished?" he snapped at the girl who leaned back sullenly in her chair.

Snape continued. "Professors Grailing and Arcahnum are not the problem. You must keep this to yourselves, but Professor Grailing will not survive past the Spring of next year. He is a very old man. As for the headmistress, she will keep her knowledge of us to her dying day." He closed his eyes briefly at his mis-chosen words. Calming himself, he brought himself back to the subject. "Albus Dumbledore is the problem. Professor Dumbledore has quite a skill in resisting memory charms and curses. The only way to keep him from remembering us would be to destroy his mind as Mr. Weasley did to Professor Lockhart. The consequences of that don't bear thinking of. The headmistress will speak on our behalf to Professor Dumbledore and as he has a terribly propensity of keeping secrets, knowledge of us is safe."

Hermione interrupted again, but this time by raising her hand slightly. Snape's eyes rolled in exasperation, but he nodded at her to speak. "Professor, if Albus... I mean, Professor Dumbledore does remembers us, is it possible...?"

"I assume there's an actual question in that, Miss Granger?" Snape prompted.

"I..." she sighed. "No, maybe not, sir."

Snape did not to press the point. If the little Gryffindor chose to voice her concerns later, no doubt she wouldn't hesitate to do so. Snape rose to his feet and began to pace. "We have overstayed our welcome at Hogwarts. If the headmistress is to cast the spell that will wipe out our existence in the memories of those students and staff currently here at Hogwarts, then we can ill afford to spend more time here." He stopped pacing and faced them. The three Gryffindors turned to face him, Draco did not. "Tomorrow we leave Hogwarts."

There was an immediate outburst of questions, outrage, and concerns. He did not have the patience to justify a decision that he'd mulled over since the first day they arrived in 1898. He was frustrated in himself and annoyed at the fact that he'd become the guardian over four children he had no particular fondness for. Everyday they spent in Hogwarts was another day that could bring disaster to their future. Not the least of that being the ever-present temptation to change their own futures. Looking at Harry, he could see that temptation evident in the boy's expression. It had not been enough for him to speak and interact with a suppressed memory of James Potter; he wanted his father back in his life. How could Snape explain to Harry that such a thing could change their time in ways even he couldn't imagine? And as for Snape? He had also felt the temptation to try and change his own future so that he could have a future where he wasn't a servant to the Dark Lord.

With a sharp gesture and a cutting command to be quiet, they fell silent. "Enough," he said softly. "Finish your lunch. Then, get your cloaks. We have a trip to make to Diagon Alley."

Lunch was finished in sullen silence and then one by one Hermione, Ron and Harry got up from the table and left. Harry paused in the doorway, silent for a moment and then he turned back to Snape. "We will get back home, Professor." Harry was through the door and had closed it before Snape had a chance to reply.

Snape shrugged. He now turned to Draco who still sat at the table, silent as ever. "Now that they're gone, Mr. Malfoy, will you explain to me what the problem is?"

Draco didn't look at Snape. He spoke softly, down at the table's surface. "In the Odd Room, sir. I saw Elydree." Snape froze uncomfortably. "I haven't said her name in eight years, Sir, but I've never forgotten her." Draco looked up at his head of house, and there was a dark, brittle look of anger in his grey eyes, but the anger was not directed at Snape. Draco rose quickly from the table and swept past, he only paused a moment at the door. "I'm not going back home, sir." He slammed the door shut behind him.