The headmistress quickly recovered from Snape's outburst and demanded to know what the trouble was. Snape refused to say anything. "The boy." Lyrica knew she should have made the connection the moment Snape had said his name. "You know him as an adult, don't you?"

Snape nodded. He finished the wine and pushed away from the table. He had lost his appetite. "Young Albus has just spent over an hour with my students. He knows their real names as well as mine. Short of Oblivating his entire memory..." Snape shook his head.

"The be-fogging memory charm," began Lyrica.

Snape shook his head sharply. "Albus was a very talented wizard, even in his youth. I doubt that a be-fogging memory charm will have little effect on his mind." Snape had begun pacing. He didn't have a doubt about the young Dumbledore's ability to resist the effects of any sort of memory charm. This was the man who defeated Gellert Grindewald, for Merlin's sake!

"If he's able to resist such a charm, then he must have known what was going to happen to you. Why would he not have warned you?" she asked in puzzlement.

"I've known that old man for almost fifteen years now and I've yet to understand how the wretched man thinks! I can only speculate... but no," sighed Snape suddenly. "I can't even say for certain he did remember us. He is over century old in our time and as sharp as he is, his memory is not infallible."

Lyrica stepped toward Snape and caught his arm in order to stop his pacing. The man's anger, whether at himself or at Dumbledore, she couldn't quite determine. It was late and he needed to calm himself and not worry about such things now.

"Severus," she said softly as she stepped up behind him. "It does no good to worry about this now. I shall talk to Mr. Dumbledore tomorrow and make certain he understands that as far as our guests go, he must be discrete."

Snape's shoulders slumped visibly. He knew that the one thing Dumbledore could be counted on for was to keep a secret. At times, he was far too good at that skill. Turning to face the headmistress, he gave her a resigned, slight smirk. "I must take my leave, Prof... Lyrica. I need to make certain that my students haven't killed each other by now. That, and I am exceedingly in need of sleep."

"I quite understand, Severus. I can call Mr. Landings for you, or do you know the way?"

"I know it very well. Goodnight." He turned away, a little too sharply, and walked out of her office.

"Goodnight, Severus," the headmistress said after the door was closed.

Severus Snape walked the dark corridors of Hogwarts that he knew all too well. His direction was nearly faultless except for turning toward the dungeons, at one point. Mentally correcting himself, he made his way toward Gryffindor tower and its guest wing.

How could he have made such a blunder? He berated himself silently. When they had tumbled into the back alley of the Leaky Cauldron, his guard had gone up immediately. Of course he hadn't realized they'd traveled back in time, but as they had emerged onto the street known as Diagon Alley, he began to ascertain that they'd done more than simply side-apparated from the Forbidden Forest to Diagon Alley.

The Leaky Cauldron was much the same as ever it was but many of the businesses were different. There was no Madame Malkins. In the place of that shop was Milady's Fine Hats. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor was absent but ahead of them stood the imposing structure of Gringott's. Knockturn Alley managed to appear more dangerous then ever before and Snape had quickly caught a too inquisitive Draco by the collar, keeping the boy close. Harry had discovered the vital clue they needed to orient themselves at the Daily Prophet headquarters. Posted on the front window was that morning's issue of the Daily Prophet, dated September 13, 1898.

1898. Snape's mind had not been ready to accept the information as truth. He hauled the teenagers, who were beginning to make a scene, back toward the Leaky Cauldron. He found a dark corner for all of them to congregate, ordered them, upon threat of a painful death to keep quiet, and then he'd sat in silence amongst them as he weighed their options. He was at a loss until he saw one of the patrons use the fireplace to Floo home. The proprietor charged him an outrageous two galleons to Floo directly to the office of the headmaster of Hogwarts. The exchange had been a quick one, with his usual abruptness taking center stage, but the headmistress had chosen to take him at face value. A carriage had been sent for them.

They had been met by two people, a slim red-headed boy who had obviously been wakened from a deep sleep, and the caretaker Mr. Landings. If Snape had had any sense, he might have known who the boy was.

"I also should have known better than to use our real names," he muttered tightly to himself. He turned sharply down a short hallway that was right before the stairs that led to the Gryffindor common room and sleeping quarters for students.

Draco and Hermione had finally joined Ron and Harry at the table. The food was soon gone, and Ron was the first to begin yawning.

Harry leaned over to Ron and whispered, "I still think we should have used aliases."

Draco interrupted, "That's what Snape suggested. Aren't we going to change history or something?"

"That is precisely why each of you must be on your guard during our stay in Hogwarts." None of them had heard Snape arrive. Their Potions professor did not look like his meeting with the headmistress had gone well. "Starting now, I want the four of you to stick together like glue and to refrain from associating with the students here. The headmistress has a spell that will... diminish our imprint on the memories of staff and students, but it will have less affect on those that spend more time with us."

"What about Professor Dumbledore?" asked Ron, suddenly awake.

"Head Boy Albus Dumbledore is a problem, Mr. Weasley. We are going to have to count on the boy's discretion, for the time being."

"Sir," Hermione nearly raised her hand, "What about our affect on history?"

"We cannot be wary of every second, Miss Granger, but each of you knows to keep as much future information to yourselves as possible. Including magic. I am loathe to imagine what havoc some of the spells you've learned just as first years could cause here." Squashing the thought from his mind, he addressed them one last time. "You'll retire to your rooms now. Mine is across the corridor from yours. IF you need me, do not hesitate to disturb me. In the morning we shall meet in my room for breakfast. After breakfast, we shall all go to the library where we shall begin research into the nature of just how we managed to arrive 96 years into our past."

"We should have just stayed at the Leaky Cauldron," muttered Ron.

"As inviting as the Leaky Cauldron is," Snape replied with a voice heavy with sarcasm, "Its disreputable reputation is much worse now than in our time. We would have been killed in our sleep and robbed of every last knut."

Ron's eyes widened at the hissed outburst. "Well being killed would have solved our problem of getting home!" He snapped.

Snape couldn't believe what Ron Weasley had just said. A sudden weight of another facet to this time travel fiasco settled on him and he shut his eyes involuntarily against the migraine that threatened.

"If you'll excuse us, Master Snape," Harry interrupted as he grasped Ron's arm. "We'll go to our rooms now." Harry rushed past Snape with Ron in tow and without a word he was followed by Hermione.

Snape watched them vanish into the adjoining corridor. Normally he would have dressed Weasley and Potter down, then and there, but this had been a long and trying day.

"Professor Snape, sir," Draco's voice reminded the Potions professor of his presence. "Do you think we will be able to get back home?"

"The future of our world is at stake, Mr. Malfoy. We'd better get back to our own time, and soon." His voice was low and full of exhaustion.

"You mean Potter ought to get back home." Draco sneered disdainfully.

Anger rose like a volcano in Snape's dark eyes as he whirled upon the younger Malfoy. He could understand the rivalry between the two boys and in fact he'd done little to discourage it. He was there to teach and to prepare his students for the harsh realities of the wizarding world they lived in. The Malfoys and Voldemort and the Death Eaters were all a part of that reality, so there had been no reason to ease the tensions between the boys. He took a deep breath to quell the frustration building, choosing not to take it all out on Draco.

Placing a hand upon Draco's shoulder, he spoke somberly, "When the time comes, Mr. Malfoy, the Boy Who Lived is going to need more than just his wand and a handful of spells to face He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He will need all of us." He stressed this last by forcing Draco to look into his eyes. "All of us, Mr. Malfoy."