London: 1613

      The streets of London bustled with noise, as they always did. The smell of waste water from buckets overhead made Evelyn want to gag, especially with the heat of summer pressing down on the streets. She felt out of place, here in the city. It scared her to be so far from her home village in Scotland, even though she knew home was now a dangerous place, for the town was still full of Blaine McTavish's supporters, who were ready to accuse people of witchcraft at any moment. Besides, she had nobody to return to. Every person that had been important to her had left, having had to flee from the witch hunters as well. Her mother had been one of them. Evelyn closed her eyes tightly, trying to forget the words that swam before her vision, so neatly written but so quick to bring Evelyn's world down around her. Her mother had been fleeing with her friend, and along the way she fell ill. The letter announcing her death arrived weeks ago, but the sting remained. Evelyn wished she had been given a chance for a proper goodbye. The familiar tightness swelled in her chest, and feeling as though she was going to burst, Evelyn let out a deep breath, which caught in her throat ever so slightly. But the noise was lost within the hubbub of the cobbled streets, so teeming with grubby people. The nine months she had been gone felt like nine years.

"And look where you are now," she muttered to herself, wondering rather half-heartedly why she had come to London of all places. But she could not fool herself into believing that she had any choice in the matter. She was here, and there was no sense in wishing herself away, even with the threat of McTavish's well to do brother, whom she knew very well lived here in London.

"Where is that bastard, anyway?" she whispered under her breath as she emerged from a more dingy street and onto one slightly less disgusting.

Cursing, she leaped out of the way as a coach sped past, the rattling wheels and clattering of hooves ringing in her ears.

"You have a rather foul mouth, for a lady," said a smooth voice nearby.

Evelyn whirled around, gritting her teeth. She took a sudden step back, as she was met with the sight of ice blue eyes. She knew those eyes. They were the eyes of a dead man. The eyes of Blaine McTavish, whom she had killed with a knife only nine months previous. He had been trying to murder almost the entire wizarding population of her home town with his witch hunting madness, despite the fact that he too was a wizard. She regretted the fact that she never got a chance to spit on his grave.

"Ah yes, I know you have been following me. Now what was your name? I recall seeing you quite a few years ago, when I visited my dear brother."

"I am sorry sir, but you must be mistaken. We have never met," Evelyn bluffed convincingly. But apparently it was not well enough.

"And yet you have followed me here to White Cross Street three times in the last two weeks." Those cold, dead eyes bored into Evelyn. She hoped dearly that he did not remember her, for she had encountered him in passing a few months back. "I know you know who I am."

Her hopes sunk like a ship in a perilous sea.

"Really ... and who are you, exactly?" Evelyn asked innocently, figuring she might as well milk this thing for all it was worth.

Greying eyebrows raised, and McTavish surveyed her steadily. Evelyn felt a sick kind of chill wash over her. It was then that she knew she had little hope of bluffing her way out of this one.

"I, my dear, am James McTavish."

"Pleased to meet you," Evelyn lied through her teeth, curtsying. "I think I have heard of you, come to think of it. Aren't you the owner of that large patch of land just north of here?"

"I am."

"Well, it was nice meeting you sir, but I really must be going," said Evelyn as she tried to make her escape.

James McTavish hooked his arm through hers.

"Oh, we aren't done talking yet," he said, his tone far too light for the strength in his arm. "Why don't we walk a little bit? I need to find out how much you know."

"Know what?" she inquired as they began to walk calmly and collectedly down the street, in a way that would make nobody guess what was really going on.

"The snitch is caught, my dear, now you might as well tell me your name," he said to her.

"It's Beth," she said, angry and disgruntled. "Short for Elizabeth."

"I don't ask questions I don't already know the answer to, Evelyn," he said to her.

Evelyn felt her heart skip a beat. How much did he know?

"If you're going to play that way, then fine. All I'm here for is Ellery," spat Evelyn, feeling her hair crackle with the magic she longed to throw at McTavish. "He's my friend, and damn you, he's old and senile. Let him go, and I will stop following you."

"Certainly," said McTavish, much to Evelyn's shock.

She narrowed her eyes. "What are the conditions?"

"I'd rather talk about that somewhere else. I have the perfect place in mind, but first, are you hungry?" McTavish had stopped walking, and they stood in front of stall with loaves of bread. Evelyn's mouth watered.

"Not if you're bribing me," she hissed.

"No. But I think you might find it easier to pay attention on a full stomach," he said, trying to sound generous and kind, but the overall effect came off badly.

He tossed a coin to the woman selling bread, and she handed him a small loaf, which he gave to Evelyn. She tore off a chunk and swallowed it nearly whole.

"This way," he said cheerfully, as though he were merely directing her instead of leading her forcefully with her arm trapped in the crook of his.

Evelyn didn't like the looks of this. Fear squirmed in her belly, so for something to do she took another bite of the bread. It was the most food she'd had in her hand at one time for days.

She was led into an ivy covered church yard. They walked over to a crumbling stone bench, and she was made to sit down. McTavish sat beside her. She edged away from him as much as she could, still tearing off hunks of bread to eat.

"You will be happy to know that I have finished with your friend," said McTavish. "He's alright, for the most part."

"What did you do to him, you bastard?" growled Evelyn, leaping to her feet, wand out and pointing at him. Ordinarily she would not have been so careless, but the graveyard was well enclosed with trees and bushes. That, and Ellery was all she had left at this point.

"Oh, nothing much," responded McTavish, lowering her wand with his hand. "He's still alive, if that is what you mean, and in relatively the same condition he was when he arrived for me."

"You were testing potions on him, weren't you?" she spat, raising her arm up again to point her wand straight at his forehead.

"Ah, so you have eavesdropped enough to know about that?" Pausing, he chuckled softly to himself. "You can stand and stare at me defiantly all you want, dear, but you must realize that you will never see your friend again unless you are agreeable."

He said it so casually that Evelyn was about to hex him to the moon and back, but after a second of consideration, she shut her mouth and threw herself back onto the bench, still writhing in anger at him calling her dear. Nobody called Evelyn dear. She stuffed a wad of bread in her mouth and chewed ferociously. It was the preferable option to grinding her teeth to a powder.

"He will be returned to you at the end of our meeting, but not before we have our little chat. Now, tell me, what do you know about this potion?"

This time he had drawn his wand, and had it covertly trained on her, his knuckles white beneath the elegant cuffs of his black waistcoat.

"I know that you intended to test a new potion on Ellery," Evelyn said slowly, knowing that now as not the time to lie. "I don't know what it does ... or what it is for. Except that the rest of the Potioneer's Society thinks you're developing an entirely different potion, and you said that it will help keep those less powerful in our world from getting too unruly. Which is why you cannot discuss it among the other, more righteous members, and have been coming all the way to the east side of London. A bit far from the rest of your rich Society friends, I think."

"You do know how to eavesdrop, I will give you that," he answered. His voice only wavered for a second after he learned of what she knew. He appeared to have underestimated her. "But alas, I am growing tired of this little chat, so I shall make this brief. You will receive your friend back." He twirled his slightly greying, black moustache for a moment, before speaking once more in his calm, controlled tone. "After this, you will leave London, and never come back. Do you understand?"

"Why? Why should I leave?"

"Because I will kill you for being the one to put a knife in my brother's chest." The pleasant demeanour was all gone. The sentence shocked Evelyn in its frankness, after the suave and controlled demeanour he had been speaking in. It was with this cold tone that he reminded Evelyn most of his brother. She stood up and backed away. She hadn't thought that he had known what she did.

"One thing, before I go," Evelyn dared to ask, "Why Ellery? It could easily have been random, at first, you taking him. But I think you had something more planned."

To her surprise, McTavish answered. And when he did, the cool, calm voice was back again, and McTavish was suave once more, in a sickening sort of way. His calm manner once again contradicted greatly the words that came from his mouth, which made the hair on the back of Evelyn's neck stand up. The light changed suddenly, for a mass of dark clouds had crept over the sun, washing them in a weak, bluish light.

"We needed a test subject," he told her. "He was there, and a bit too slow to fight back in his old age. That and I wanted to meet you, to give you one, last chance to stay the hell away from me, before my hand ... slips. You see, I would be happy to kill you right here and now. However, unfortunately for me, and luckily for you, I, being an upstanding citizen and a member of the upper class society, do not wish to tarnish the family name. Murder tends to do that. My brother was a little bit less careful of that, as I understand, what with the distance between where he and I made our homes. But family is family, and should I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to snuff you like a candle. Understood?"

"Yes," Evelyn said rather faintly, her voice betraying her fear for the first time.

"Can I have a yes sir?"

Feeling it best not to try her luck, Evelyn ground her molars together before saying, "Yes sir."

"Good. You may go now. My colleagues will meet you at the gate, and your friend will be with them. He may be a bit confused, but I suggest you get out of London as quick as you can."

Evelyn didn't hesitate, and, stuffing the rest of the bread in her grubby dress pocket she practically ran to the gate. She glanced back, and those piercing blue eyes were watching her with a strange sort of twinkle. She swung open the creaking metal, and immediately upon going out into the street Ellery emerged from a clump of bushes by the church. The boots of another man were beneath the green leaves, but he did not come out.

"Come on!" Evelyn hissed to Ellery, sounding half grateful and half terrified as she dragged him by the arm. He had leaves sticking out of his wispy white hair and a rather dazed smile about his face.

The rain had started by the time they had reached the outer edges of London. Evelyn crept along the side streets, still dragging a dazed Ellery. She pushed him unceremoniously into a tiny shack, half falling down in her haste to get inside. It looked like almost every other house on Tower Street, and, like every other house on Tower Street, the roof leaked badly. Evelyn didn't really mind this however as she wound around the wooden buckets and pots that the water had just begun to drip into with the sudden onset of the rain. It wasn't entirely safe to pull out your wand to try to repair the roof often, as it was surprisingly easy for passers-by to see when a bunch of straw and grasses started to float up and weave themselves into a roof. So, leaky it remained. She led Ellery over to the bed, and then after pushing aside her folded nightgown, she made him sit down. Waving her wand she started a fire in the grate, and then sent a kettle soaring over top the flames to begin tea. Then, she dragged a rickety chair over to the bed and sat down in front of Ellery.

"All right Ellery, tell me what happened," said Evelyn firmly, an almost inaudible tremor running through her voice. "You do know who I am, don't you?"

"Evelyn, it is you, isn't it?" said Ellery, cupping his hand over his ear. His hearing had gotten increasingly worse since she had last seen him, and his sight appeared to be going too.

Evelyn let out a sigh of relief before saying, "Yes Ellery, it's me. Now tell me, do you remember what they did to you?"

"What who did? I feel fine you know."

"Those men, they gave you a potion. What did it do?"

"Potion, what potion? I don't remember anything about a potion."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Well ... hmm ... talking to you about those boys that helped with the rescue, when you and I went back to the old hideout for my inventing things," said Ellery.

Evelyn frowned. That had been months ago, and had definitely not been the last time they were together. After lying low for two weeks or so, they had returned to the cave hideout that they had used while Blaine McTavish had been hunting for witches in their town. It had been a brief visit - long after Severus and Harry had left - just so they could recover some of Ellery's inventing things. She forgot about the potion for a moment, lost in wonder.

"I still haven't found them, you know," she said sadly. "The boy was so young. I don't see how he could have survived that poison."

"Evelyn ... I don't remember what the potion was," said Ellery gravely after a few moments. "They must have used a memory charm on me. But I do remember some things, and this isn't crazy talk as everyone back in town used to call it. There is a good reason why you have not seen either of those boys."

Evelyn snapped to attention.

"Remember that device I made, to summon someone to help us escape the witch trials?"

"Yes, that silly metal ball," scoffed Evelyn. "You aren't going to tell me it worked, are you?"

"Well, yes, it did work," said Ellery. "The boy recognized the device I invented, and told me that that was how they had arrived."

At this Ellery got very excited. His eyes lit up like fireflies, making him look almost a little mad, with his white wisps of hair going every which way, and his cloudy eyes.

"Evelyn, it brought them through time," he whispered hoarsely. "Isn't that miraculous?"

"Really," said Evelyn, rather disbelievingly. "What year then?"

"The boy said that it was 1991 when I asked," said Ellery.

"That's ridiculous."

"But think about it for a moment," he said breathlessly. "They had very strange clothing fashion, and they didn't seem to know much at all about the witch trials, or even the places around here. You said that the man seemed unfamiliar with the neighbouring towns. It was as if they had popped out of nowhere! The man was a Professor, and the boy, Harry, said to me that they had come from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

"I guess it is possible, they were rather strange," she said slowly. "But we haven't got time for this now. We have to find out if that potion did anything to you, and then get out of London. In the meantime, I have your wand."

"Wonderful," said Ellery, rubbing his hands together. "I have missed it terribly."

Evelyn walked over to the shelf by the door, and took down from it a little metal chest, just long enough to hold a short wand belonging to a wizard of Ellery's stature. She brought it over to the bed and tapped the top of the box. The lock sprung loose and she reached down into it to grab Ellery's wand. She lifted it carefully and put it in his reaching hand.

"Oh how I have missed this," he repeated. Evelyn went to move the box, but Ellery stopped her, all in a flutter. "No, don't get up."

Clearly eager to do some magic, he waved his wand at the box to levitate it back to the shelf.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he said cheerfully. The box didn't so much as twitch. He frowned, and tried again. And again.

"Try another spell," she demanded, trying to quell the sick feeling that had risen in her gut.

"Lumos," said Ellery. Again, nothing. She had never known Ellery to fail in casting a spell.

"I ... I think I know what that potion did," Evelyn said weakly, feeling the blood drain from her face. "And why McTavish made it."

She bit her lip, thinking hard. Ellery continued to try to do magic, and with each failed spell his expression grew more devastated. Evelyn had to look away. In time, her own expression grew from distress, to one of resignation.

"We can't leave yet. We have to stay, and destroy that recipe," she said shakily when he finally gave up. "If that gets into the wrong hands, which it already is in, there will be no telling what that could do to the wizarding world ... the power he could have. But there is no way I can sneak into the Potioneer's Society on my own. Not just on my knowledge. Ellery, I hope you remember what you were inventing back in the cave, because we're going to need a miracle to do this."

Hogwarts, 1992

 Harry sat at the back of the Hogwarts Library, skimming through piles of books. He was alone, for Ron wasn't particularly keen on history books, and Hermione had other homework to do. Harry had been impressed how understanding Ron had been of the amount of research he had been doing, for, while he was a little bit miffed that Harry was reading a lot of the time, he understood Harry's curiosity, and was even a little interested himself. When Harry had gone to the Burrow for Christmas, he had finally told Ron what had happened back in November. He had had to, really. One doesn't go back in time, almost die of poison, spend a month in the hospital wing and then not tell their friend why they got poisoned in the first place. It just didn't work like that.

Harry had been very glad that he could tell someone all about it, for many reasons. One was that it was sometimes hard to believe what had happened was real. Another was that it would have been really difficult not to slip up and say something about it to Ron, as Harry had been lucky enough to get to live with the Weasleys after the events that took place a few months earlier. He had only spent Christmas there so far, but he already loved it, and for a moment he thought fleetingly of summer, which was fast approaching. At the beginning of his first year at Hogwarts, he thought he would never, ever want to leave Hogwarts, but those two weeks during Christmas at the Burrow had been the closest to having a home than he had ever known before, even with living at Hogwarts. He had been amazed at how quickly it started to feel that way.

As Harry flipped the page in his book he couldn't help but marvel at the amount of influence Snape seemed to have on Dumbledore, as it had been Snape in the end that changed everything for Harry. Quite honestly, Harry had not expected the Headmaster to care much at all that the Dursleys had been neglecting and rather quick to punish. Harry still thought it a little odd to call the whole situation abusive, as all the adults called it. It was very rare that he ever got physically hurt at the Dursleys', and those times were usually accidental because he didn't duck quickly enough when Aunt Petunia swung her frying pan. Despite what others thought, it still seemed almost normal to some degree, even after seeing what a proper home was like. It had been quite a learning curve for him, going to the Burrow. Only now was he truly starting to see just how messed up his childhood had been up until this point.

Today, however, these thoughts were fleeting, and instead his mind soaked up the words in the history book before him. Ever since returning from the year 1612 and narrowly escaping his death amidst the rampant witch hunting practises, he had hungered to know what happened since. He often spent nights wondering what had happened to the people he met. His heart sunk every time he thought about being so far from them. Instead, he tried to bring Evelyn, and even that crazy old man Ellery back through the pages of books. But he had found no references at all to people with those names. He hadn't expected to, really, although he thought he might at least have found out something about Blaine McTavish. He had been both insane, and mean enough to be remembered, Harry thought to himself, shuddering. Despite this, during all the time he had spent searching, Harry had yet to find a single reference to him. And still, he searched. Perhaps it was because he wanted to prove, even to himself, that it hadn't all been a dream gone badly awry, or a hallucination induced by the poison that had made him so sick

He wished he could discuss what happened with Snape, just so he could know that someone else was sure that it had happened. But the man had been distant, ever since he talked to Dumbledore about moving Harry to the Burrow. It was as though Snape almost liked him one day, and forgot that he existed the next. Harry tried to keep his mind off all of this, however, because it was easier if he didn't think about how much it bothered him to have lost what had felt like a friendship between he and his Professor. It was, perhaps, Snape's sudden distance that made the whole adventure seem so unreal to him.

Harry took his glasses off briefly and rubbed his eyes. He was going to put the books away soon. Lunch hour was almost over, and fruitless searching had left him weary once more. But he had to do it, for himself. He wanted so badly to know if Evelyn escaped, or if Ellery and the rest made it out of the village in time. Or even if McTavish had truly died. The last time Harry saw Blaine McTavish, he had had a knife in his chest, but Harry still woke up in a cold sweat, wondering if McTavish had breathed his last shortly after that moment, or if he had survived. He had to be sure of this, just so he could be at peace, and know that such evil had been taken from the world. Even if McTavish was long dead at this point in time, regardless of what killed him.

With a soft sigh Harry shut the book, and threw it on top of the large stack of history books that detailed events from the 1600s on. Carefully, he took the stack into his arms to put back onto the shelves. He didn't particularly want to confront Madam Pince if he left that number of books off their shelves.

The stack of volumes was rather tall, and Harry accidental trod on his book bag lying by his chair, getting his foot caught on one of the straps.

He gave a small shout as he tumbled to the ground, the pile of books falling with noisy thumps on the library carpet.

As if she had been waiting for this moment, Madam Pince swooped in from behind a shelf.

"Shame on you, throwing books around like that!"

"I'm sorry Madam, I tripped," Harry said gingerly as he brushed himself off.

"Pick those up immediately!"

"Yes Ma'am," he muttered, reaching for the books and hastily stacking them. One had fallen open and he reached over to close it. Harry felt his mouth fall open.

Madam Pince waved her wand to send the stacked books back to their places, and as the open one soared up into the air Harry snatched at it.

"Wait! Madam Pince, this is the book, this is the one!" Harry cried excitedly. "I need this book. Can I take it out?"

"Only if you don't write in it, damage it, misuse it, throw it, drop it -"

"I'll take care of it, I know the rules," Harry said, hastily looking at his watch.

"Bring it to the counter," said Madam Pince rather grudgingly.

Harry grabbed a piece of parchment from his book bag and put it in place on the page he found. Inside he was writhing with excitement. He followed Madam Pince in a daze, arriving at the counter.

She held out her right hand, the long fingernails on her left hand tapping at the wood counter.

"Recipe for Fame: A History of the Potioneer's Society, by Albert Bresling," she droned, the book in front of her as she it scribbled down in a log book, "on loan to Mr. Potter for two weeks. No more, no less."

Plucking a stamp out of a wicker basket she smacked it down on the ink pad. The next time the stamp was lowered it was with much greater care, when she pressed it onto the paper card inside the book cover.

"I expect it back by May 17th, Mr. Potter," she said sternly, still holding the book out of Harry's reach.

"Yes Ma'am," said Harry hastily, and with trembling fingers he took the book, which she let him take from her grasping fingers.

He practically ran out of the Library and to Defence Against the Dark Arts, where his two best friends were waiting for him. The bell rang just as he threw himself into the seat next to Ron.

"Find something?" Ron mouthed to Harry as Quirrell began his lecture and Harry caught his breath. Ron and Hermione too had been interested to hear what he found on the events that had transpired earlier in the school year, which Harry was grateful for.

Harry nodded, and under the desk (for Quirrell never paid much attention to anything) he flipped to the page that he had seen the familiar name, and read through it, hoping for some connection to what had happened to him last year. Ron covertly read over his shoulder, while Hermione tutted from the desk behind them.

"You're just mad you can't read it too without getting caught," Ron hissed, rolling his eyes.

Harry lowered his gaze to the well-worn pages of the book, making sure to point to the specific passage so Ron knew where to read.

" ... The rapid rise in success and prestige of the Potioneer's Society during the early sixteen hundreds was greatly in part to James McTavish. Much of this was due to the fact that he was a very influential member of London society, considering his family's wealth and rich history. Owning much of the land on the outskirts of London, and being a Potions connoisseur, he had no trouble obtaining an invitation into the Potioneer's Society, something many had great difficulty in doing. McTavish's research on poisons was ground-breaking for the time, and set the stage for such brilliant minds as Richter, Bowing, and O-Kieffe to make even greater advancements years later as members of the very same society. It was McTavish's research project on poisons, and subsequent academic papers that gained the attention of the more scholarly side of London, and thus launched the Potioneer's Society from its relative anonymity to widespread success by the year 1605. With its newly found fame, the Potioneer's Society began to progress into something far greater than its founders imagined. The Society was getting requests, pouring in from all over Great Britain to evaluate potions, develop and test recipes, and publish books on them. With literacy on the rise within the magical community, the well-off had reason to commission such works. Thus, the Potioneer's Society began to regulate potion recipes, test, revise, and release them to the public once deemed safe.

As this continued, the Society proceeded in with their advances in the field of Potions, often by creating and distributing new recipes with almost constantly rising success (there were three periods of inactivity, the first in 1608, when it was shut down for nine months after an outbreak of Spattergroit; the second in 1613 after a fire destroyed much of the building; the third in 1623, a year heavy with the Black Plague) until the year 1666. This success led to great growth within the Society, which allowed for such diverse research to take place. Unfortunately, not all of this work was saved when the Potioneer's Society was decimated by the Great Fire of London, which raged through the city for three days in September of 1666 and caused many years of turbulence due to the heavy losses."

Harry frowned thoughtfully and gave the book to Ron to finish reading, as he wasn't as fast as Harry. Unable to pay attention to Quirrell's boring lecture, he let his mind ponder James McTavish, rather than the Potioneer's Society. He wondered if he could be a relative of Blaine McTavish.

It was then that Harry had a sudden idea. He had potions class next, the last class of the day. Perhaps he could catch Snape at the end of it to discuss this new piece of information, for Snape probably knew something about the Potioneer's Society, considering his brewing skills. Maybe he had heard of this James McTavish, and besides, if he hadn't, Harry though he would probably be interested. Well, in actuality he hoped Snape would be interested more than he thought he would. He wasn't sure if his Professor had been reading up on the sixteen hundreds, but it was worth a try to see what he knew. And, to be perfectly honest - not that he'd ever admit it to anyone but himself - he sort of missed talking with Snape. He was intrigued by the man, for the trip into the past had taught him that there was certainly more to his professor than he had initially thought, and that the man's soul wasn't black, nor was it white. It was not one, but many shades of grey, and Harry was not naive enough to think he would every fully understand any one of them.

For the short time that they had been in the past, and during those few days that Harry had been in the hospital wing and Snape had come to visit him, Harry had felt as though the huge barriers between he and Snape had fallen down. But now he knew differently, for those conversations in the hospital wing were the last of the sort that he had had with Snape, and all too soon the illusion of camaraderie and friendship had disappeared. His Professor's indifference stung more than Harry could admit to himself, especially when Snape brushed him off when he was so clearly trying to talk to him, either in the halls or in the classroom. Even though he had a new family, and two best friends, Harry sometimes felt more alone than ever.

He looked down at the book in his hands. Perhaps he was only going down to ask Snape about what he'd read because he hoped that things would be different this time. That Snape would act like he was actually worth something, like he did when they were back in time, and for the short while after. But six months of Snape's silence had left Harry with little hope. Even now, when he was nearing the end of the school year, Harry did not understand what had changed to make Snape stop talking to him. And it was not as though Harry could ask him, what with him avoiding Harry at every turn. Despite this, Harry still hoped that maybe, just maybe, today his luck would change. So when the bell rang, he set off down the corridors, crossing his fingers that this would be the day that it all made sense to him.

"I'm going to ask Snape after class if he knows anything about this," Harry said to Ron and Hermione as they packed up their books and headed down to the dungeons with the rest of the Gryffindor first years.

Hermione did not speak, but simply frowned, clearly trying to hold back what she wanted to say.

"Look mate," said Ron in a low voice as they descended another staircase, the chill of the air becoming more prominent around them, "I don't think anything is going to change. I mean, it's been months since he started acting this way. Maybe ... well," - Ron's ears went red - "what if he was only being civil because you were forced to spend so much time together?"

"Ron, you weren't there," said Harry, frustrated. "You don't understand, he was different. It was almost like ... almost like he was my ..."

The look on Hermione's face was so tragic Harry felt his brows furrow, and he spat out his last word.

"Friend, okay?" Harry said. "It was like he was my friend."

Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke, but the sad looks on their faces said it all.

"I wouldn't expect you two to understand, alright?" Harry spat, storming ahead of them and pushing through the crowd to the door.

Once in the dungeon he made sure to sit next to Seamus and Dean so he wouldn't have to speak to Hermione and Ron, who were exchanging knowing glances.

It seemed like an age came before class ended, and Harry deliberately packed up his things slowly. To his relief, Snape was still at his desk, marking papers. His heart beating furiously, the book clutched in his hands, Harry approached the desk. He glanced once at the door, where Ron was silently trying to persuade Harry to come with them.

"Go," he mouthed. Ron shook his head, and left.

Harry turned his gaze back to Snape's desk, but his eyes were met with an empty chair. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a pair of black robes whipping around the corner of door to the back room of the dungeon classroom. Left standing alone in the cold dungeon, Harry took a slow step back from the desk, before turning on his heel and running out of the classroom.

Harry met his friends outside the Great Hall a little later, not bothering to tell them what happened, because they knew all too well. All through dinner, Ron tried to provoke Harry out of his blue demeanour and into a fighting mood. It seemed to bother him immensely, the way Harry played with his food and stared glumly at his plate.

"What an idiot, he should be glad you're researching this stuff," said Ron through a mouthful of ham. "He doesn't have to do it, does he? Besides, he's a teacher, and a potions expert ... albeit a git ... but, he should answer questions like yours. If any other student wanted to know about the Potioneer's Society, he would have told them about it! It's his bloody job! For all he knew, you might have had a question about the essay he assigned!"

"Yeah, you're right!" Harry said finally, his insides very suddenly igniting with the feeling of injustice that had been growing slowly for the past few months. "I'm going to go down to his office after dinner, and I'm going to bring the book, and show it to him. He'll have to answer then!"

Ron looked as though that wasn't exactly his idea, but he seemed to know better than to try and talk Harry out of it again.

So, later that evening Harry marched down to the dungeons yet again, rapped on Professor Snape's office door, and waited. If Snape refused to talk to him, he would find a way to make him. How, he didn't know yet, but that was beside the point. Anyway, Snape had no choice but to talk to him if he cornered him in his office, even if it as just to yell at him to get out.

"Enter," said Snape, his voice floating toward Harry.

Turning the knob, Harry entered with conviction. Snape was sitting at his desk, tinkering with a metal box, tapping it in various places with his wand. Snape did not look up from what he was doing.

"What do you want Potter?" he snapped.

"I found something interesting in this book sir," Harry said.

"Good for you. How does it concern me?" Snape said scathingly.

"Well, I was hoping you knew a bit about what I was reading. I was trying to find out more about McTavish, and the year 1612, just to see if there's anything in the books about the witch hunts and what happened while we were there."

Snape did not reply, but slid a knife along the crack between the lid and the base of the little metal chest. Dirt was lodged in most of the crevices. He brushed it away with a rag. Harry continued in what he was saying, reminding himself not to be discouraged.

"I found something in a history book about the Potioneer's Society, sir, and it said something about a James McTavish. I was just thinking, what if he's related to the McTavish that tried to have us hung? At first I thought that it couldn't be, because this McTavish lived in London, and the other McTavish lived in Scotland, but then I remembered that when one of Blaine McTavish's henchmen used Polyjuice potion to impersonate that little girl and get at our plans for rescuing everyone, he said that the Polyjuice potion wasn't supposed to be released for a year, but he had a friend who stole the recipe from the Potioneer's Society. I was just thinking, that maybe all of this stuff is related?"

"It could be," Snape said rather tiredly after a few moments, setting down the box and looking discouraged. Harry grew hopeful, for his Professor's tone was no longer biting, and he was no longer silent. "James McTavish did extensive research in poisons, and the McTavish that we knew did know a fair bit about those. I had wondered if there was any relation while we were there. May I see the book?"

Harry handed him the book, and then, feeling reckless, took a seat in the chair opposite Snape's, just to see what he would do. Snape stared, and Harry stared defiantly back. For a moment, Harry thought Snape was going to reprimand him, or order him out of his office. But, strangely enough, Snape did not take the bait. However, some of the lines on his face became more pronounced as he pulled the book close to his nose and skimmed the page Harry had bookmarked.

"Hmm," Snape remarked when he was finished, looking thoughtful. "It is hard to say, Potter. I do not recall reading anything more about James McTavish other than in historical works about the histories of poisons. Little is actually written about him, as most books focus solely on his research. If I recall correctly, the most that can be found about his background is in books about the Potioneer's Society. It has quite fascinating beginnings, you know. I would suggest you read more about it, just for sake of the rich history surrounding it."

"Are you sure you don't know more about him?"

"I cannot say I know much more about James McTavish than what he did in the lab. However, I can tell you the names of every Potions Master that achieved ground-breaking results in the Potioneer's Society, in chronological order from the society's beginnings in 1605 to today."

"Can you really?" Harry asked, mouth dropping open. Snape had said it so casually that Harry wondered if he was joking.

"Certainly. In the sixteen hundreds there was Lester Smith, then James McTavish, Kevin MacEntire, and Jeffery Bridges. 1700s: Christopher Delaronde, Benjamin Richter -"

"You don't have to prove it, I believe you," Harry said, holding back a smile. This was the Snape he had missed.

"Good," Snape said curtly, "I didn't study three years at Westminster Potions Academy for nought."

"When did you do that?" asked Harry curiously.

"I got a scholarship when I was seventeen, and went the year I finished at Hogwarts. Had to do something to live. Brewing can be quite lucrative, depending on your speciality."

His professor was getting more interesting by the day.

"Why did you end up teaching then?" Harry asked curiously as Snape went back to scraping the dirt out of the crevices on the tiny metal chest.

Snape paused for a moment. For a second, a flash of uncertainty flitted across his face as he opened his mouth to answer. Whether this was because it had registered to him that he was not ignoring Harry any longer, or because he did not think it wise to share the reason he became a teacher, Harry did not know. He shut his mouth, and now seemed to be fighting with himself whether or not to reply. His eyes flicked up from the box and met Harry's eyes. He looked back at the box quickly, brows furrowed. He rubbed his nose, and examining the wood of his desk, continued, albeit a little wearily. It surprised Harry that he answered at all, and that he had continued to speak for this long. This was the longest conversation they had had in months.

"Well, I didn't have the money to start up a business, and ... for one reason or another, I couldn't get hired anywhere else but Hogwarts. Dumbledore offered me a job and the rest is history. And look where I am now. Stuck teaching little cretins like you."

The last sentence didn't have quite as much bite to it as one would expect, as though Snape hadn't the heart to properly infuse it with nastiness. Harry wondered if he was dreaming, what with the way Snape had so thoroughly given him the cold shoulder in class earlier. Perhaps he had finally grown tired of putting in the effort to ignore him.

"The pay is pretty decent though," Snape said, setting the knife down and prying at the box with his fingers. "Curse this box."

"What exactly are you trying to do?" Harry asked curiously after a few moments hesitation, wondering when it would be that Snape would decide to revert to his usual ways and tell Harry to get the hell out. Snape did not seem to pick up on Harry's unease (and if he did, he hid it well) as most of his attention was on the little metal chest.

"This thing practically fell on my head when I was cleaning out my private store cupboard," Snape replied, rather disgruntled. "I think it might be another prank of Aurora's - that's Professor Sinistra to you. She is a bit of a devil, that woman, and has a nasty habit of pulling tricks on the staff when she has too much time on her hands. Seems like it is my turn. So, in answer to what I am doing - I have been trying to get this box open on my own terms before some sort of nasty creature crawls out and starts gobbling my potions samples, or something of that nature. You would not believe the things that woman comes up with. Last year she charmed the teapot in the staff room to belch fire every time someone tried to use it."

Harry laughed, but quickly covered his mouth. He wasn't sure if Snape would be angry at him for it.

"You and Sinistra are probably the only two to find that funny," his Professor said darkly.

Snape slid the knife around the lock again, running it back and forth and prising slightly.

"Aha!" Snape said as the thing sprung open. He held it so that it was only open a crack. "Let us see what terror has been bestowed upon me this time. Watch out Potter. Merlin knows what could be in this thing."

Snape, not seeing anything too dangerous upon opening it a crack, he gingerly lifted up the rusted lid. It squeaked badly on its hinges.

"Hmm," Snape said, one eyebrow raised. "Just a pile of dirt ..."

Harry stood up and leaned over to take a look. Snape rotated the box a bit. Harry frowned too as he stared down at what looked to be a tiny mound of reddish soil.

"That ghastly woman. She probably put it there just to worry m-"

There was a loud bang, and the air filled with the dusty substance. Harry and Snape sat coughing and choking on the dust. There were scorch marks on the desk.

"What the -" Snape spat, wiping the powder off his skin. He rubbed it between his fingers.

Harry looked up in horror. He suddenly knew what the box was. He'd seen something like this before, only it had been in the form of a metal ball, also filled with powder.

"Oh shit," Snape swore, eyes widening too. Harry wasn't surprised by his Professor's language, because the last time they had encountered a powder like this, they had gone back to the year 1612, almost been executed for witchcraft, and Harry had almost been killed by a poisonous arrow. Harry highly doubted this trip would go any better.

"Sir, are we going to go back in time?" Harry asked hesitantly despite the fact that he was quite sure of the answer. They had brushed the dust off of themselves, but the damage was done. It had touched them. Harry was suddenly very glad he had brought his wand down to the dungeons with him.

"I cannot see any other end to this situation," Snape said grimly after taking a deep breath. "I do not think there is any way to stop it. So, we might as well be prepared. Let's see ... what do we need to take with us?"

"Er, a little bit of food, perhaps?" Harry said, though his Professor's question had sounded slightly rhetorical. "We don't know where we'll wind up."

"A good suggestion..." Snape said absentmindedly as he rattled around in a cupboard for potion phials. Harry was surprised by the praise. Snape grabbed a number of phials and stuffed them in his pockets. "I have some of the antidote to that poison. We were lucky last time, but this time, Merlin knows what could happen."

Harry was relieved to hear this. Snape's unease however, did not seem to lift at the knowledge of them having the antidote on hand, as he was pinching the bridge of his nose and grimacing.

"Molly is going to kill me for this ... when we get back," he muttered.

Both of them knew that Snape had been about to say if, instead of when. Harry swallowed.

"I'm sorry sir," Harry said quietly.

"No. I should not have been tampering with that box while you were here."

"You don't suppose McTavish is still alive?" Harry asked anxiously, unable to leave the thought unvoiced. "I mean, I know Evelyn hit him with that knife but ..."

"I would not put it past him to have survived," Snape replied grudgingly. "Now, come with me. I do not know how much time we have so we had best get some supplies now, and I would rather us stick together, if we are to be time travelling again."

Snape strode over to a bookcase and pulled out a few of the books in order. The bookcase swung open, revealing a door. Snape opened it, standing on the threshold as he waited for Harry to follow him.

"This door leads to my quarters. Do not touch anything unless I tell you. Bring that history book with you when you come in. For all we know it might be useful to us, if James McTavish is indeed related to the other one; I have a feeling he's connected to this. On another note, if you tell anyone where the entrance to my quarters is, or what they are like, I will use you as potion ingredients."

"Yes sir," Harry said, taking the threat in stride.

Harry followed Snape through the entrance, and the bookcase shut with a snap behind him. The door had opened to a comfortable sitting room. The carpet was thick, and intricately woven with blues and greens. A sofa sat in front of the fire, which was crackling in the grate. The walls were lined with bookcases and a simple photograph of wild tiger lilies blooming in a field adorned the mantelpiece.

Snape grabbed a travelling cloak off of a hook by the door and threw it on. Harry followed him over to a little kitchen area, where Snape had started opening cupboards and grabbing things. He put the phials of potions in a special case he had extracted from a drawer and put it at the bottom of a rucksack he had summoned to himself. He then wrapped a loaf of bread in a tea towel and put that in as well. He grabbed a small, rather light looking pot off of a hook on the wall and put it in, along with a small bag of tea and two old, chipped mugs.

"Give me the book Potter," Snape said, holding out his hand. Harry passed the book over, and Snape slid the thin volume into the bag.

"Potter, go back into my office and look in the drawer of my desk. There is a bottle labelled Essence of Dittany. Bring it here, and be quick about it."

"Yes sir," Harry said, hurrying into the office. When he had retrieved the bottle Snape stowed it safely in with the other phials.

Harry shivered suddenly. That strange feverish sensation was beginning to set in.

"You feel it too?" Snape asked. Harry nodded. "It is progressing faster than last time."

The strange feeling seemed to confirm their worst fears.

"You are going to need a cloak too. I do not know if you will have time to go back for one. Stay here."

Snape disappeared into what Harry thought was a bedroom. Shuffling sounds came from the room, and after a few moments he returned with a smaller travelling cloak over his arm,

"This one might fit you. I was planning on cutting this old thing up for rags to clean cauldrons with. You are lucky I have it still. It was mine when I was in school. It is quite warm despite the patches."

Harry threw it on. It was still quite big, but Snape shrunk it a little to make it fit.

"Thanks sir," Harry said.

"It never hurts to be prepared," was all Snape said as he double checked what they had in the rucksack. "Well, that is that."

"Now what?"

"Now we wait. But first, I have to talk to Albus, and make sure he tells the Weasleys what has happened."

Cold and shivery, Harry sat down on Snape's sofa while Dumbledore and Snape talked in the small kitchen. The tones were worried and anxious, and after a while Dumbledore tried a number of spells to see if he could get the strange shivery feeling to retreat. But he could not, and Dumbledore needed to prepare for a meeting with the Minister for Magic the next day. In addition to this he had to go inform Molly and Arthur of the situation. So Harry and Snape were left to wait it out and hope that the powder did nothing more than give them chills. Poppy was sent to check on them. As they awaited what seemed inevitable, Harry tried to ask Snape why he had suddenly stopped ignoring him, but he couldn't get the words out.

"S-Sir," Harry said suddenly, hot and cold all over and his teeth chattering. "My h-hands are disappearing."

"Mine too."

They looked at each other in worry as little pieces of them started to disappear, the fabric of their cloaks becoming invisible as well. It was every bit like the last time, except the rate at which things were progressing was quite alarming in comparison to the amount of time it had taken previously.

By nine-thirty they could barely see each other, and the world started to grow dark to Harry's eyes.

"Sir! I think it's happening," Harry cried anxiously.

"Yes," Snape said, and the two stood up shakily as the room around them started to fade away into blackness. Snape gripped Harry's shoulder tightly, and Harry hung onto the fabric of Snape's cloak. Light flashed before Harry's eyes and then they were plunged into darkness as the ground vanished beneath them. The wind screamed in his ears, howling eerily as waves of freezing cold and blistering heat washed over him.

Harry stumbled slightly as his feet slammed into hard stone. Snape had caught him under the elbow to keep him from falling. It was very dark at the place they had arrived, which appeared to be some sort of cobbled side street. It was much later in the night where they were; somewhere, a clock tower struck midnight, its echoing clangs ringing through the empty streets as the dark shapes of houses loomed over them. It was muggy and the air still held traces of warmth. Harry thought it felt like a damp towel was pressing in on his face.

"Where do you think we are?" asked Harry.

Snape squinted around, and did not come up with an answer. There was no moon to light their surroundings, for dark, thick clouds had rolled in overhead. Quite suddenly a streak of lightening, white hot, zigzagged across the sky. It lit rooftops before Harry's eyes, and illuminated the rain, which was descending in a shimmering wall that was sweeping slowly over thatched roofs toward them. The first drops were beginning to fall upon Harry's head.

"We had better find shelter," Snape said after the rumble of thunder had died away. "Perhaps there is an inn around here somewhere."

The walked out from the side street, drawing their cloaks tightly around themselves. Soon the rain fell in sheets, drenching Harry to the bone. The wind rattled shutters and the lightning and thunder crashed through the sky. The blazing flashes of lightning made the streets shine, and the puddles pooled on the cobblestones, slick and black. They ran on, but there was no inn in sight. There was however, a number of small street signs, all painted in an elegant script.

"Do you recognize any of the names?" Harry asked anxiously.

"No," Snape said, water dripping off the end of his nose. They turned the corner and onto another little road, which a sign professed to be Tower Street. Tower Street was velvety black all the way along, except for a window at the very end. A golden pool of light was leaking out from the cracks in the shutters, and shimmering in the rainy night.

"Should we go ask for directions?" Harry inquired.

Snape looked around, and then over the roar of thunder replied, "I guess we might as well. It is too stormy a night to stay out like this, and we had best figure out where we are fast."

Snape started to walk again, this time much quicker. Harry had paused for a moment, eyes entranced by the dark swirling clouds above. He started when light erupted across the sky, and another loud crack of thunder shattered the air. Harry scampered off through the puddles in pursuit of Snape. When he had caught up he remained by his Professor's side. The wind battered them as they stumbled over the cobblestones in the dark.

Shutters slammed open and shut nearby, making Harry jump, but it was just the wind. Trying to keep his mind from the frightening power of the storm, Harry stared at the bits of light only about twenty paces away. It felt as though they would never get there, for the wind refused to let up. Harry had to hang onto his cloak tightly to keep it wrapped around himself, and Snape did the same as another powerful gust of wind made them stumble. Crashing thunder sounded overhead, followed by the bang of more shutters being blown open by the storm.

Light suddenly streamed down the street, reflecting from the running streams and making Harry and Snape blink. They were only a few paces from the home with the lit candles, and a person strode over to the window. It was a woman, and she reached out to pull the shutters closed again, but she paused to look up. Her eyes widened in shock, and then filled with joyful relief.

Harry knew that face, though he could not believe his eyes. It was Evelyn.

"Severus! Harry! Thank goodness ... you're alright, you're alive! Thank God you're here," she croaked.

The door was thrown open, and shocked, the two were led into the house. It was rather cramped inside, and the walls were bare except for a few shelves. A fire was crackling in the grate and a little jar filled with flames threw bright, flickering light onto the table's surface, which was strewn with parchment. A straw tick lay in the corner, with a quilt hastily thrown on top.

"E-Evelyn?" Snape said, dazed and delighted at the same time. Harry was filled with wonder and amazement at the sight of her.

"Is it really you?" she asked, reaching out a finger to touch Snape's cloak, as though she feared she were dreaming. "I - I didn't know what happened to you, I thought ... I thought ..."

"It's us," Harry said, breaking out in a grin.

Both Snape and Harry looked at each other in bewilderment, wondering what they could possibly have done when Evelyn sunk down against the wall and started to sob with gusto. Not even when the entire magical community of Evelyn's village had been captured and sent to be executed for witchcraft had they seen her break down like she did now. Harry was shocked, and Snape looked torn between comforting her and diving out of the window.

"Er ... we can go," Snape said awkwardly at last, taking a step toward the door.

"NO!" she cried suddenly, terrified. She wiped away the tears forcefully, looking angry with herself. "It's just ... you d-don't understand how glad I am to see you. I was ... I was afraid you two didn't make it when you left last time, and couldn't get the antidote in time for H-Harry. And I thought it didn't work - the invention I mean - I thought it had failed to bring you back!"

Snape continued to look a little unnerved at Evelyn's display of emotion, and Harry was at a loss for words.

She got up from the floor shakily, hiccupping and wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry about that," she said nervously. "I - I suppose I should explain myself. E-Ellery helped me make another one of his summoning devices. The box ... it was my last hope because," she choked slightly, "he d-died last week, and without him I really don't think I could make another. You see, I went to wake him one morning ... and I guess something finally g-gave during the night, I didn't expect him to go so soon."

Angrily she wiped more tears from her eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Snape said, looking grim.

Harry blinked hard, trying not to think of Ellery lest he begin to cry and make a fool of himself in front of Snape.

"Silly me, you must be freezing, where are my manners," Evelyn said, berating herself as she put another log on the fire and put two chairs there. Snape waved his wand over himself and Harry, drying their robes instantly. They both took a chair by the fire.

"So, what did you bring us back for?" Snape asked, sounding as though he almost did not want to know the answer.

"Well, I only meant to bring you Severus," said Evelyn, biting her lip. "I am so glad to see you as well Harry, I just, I didn't expect you to come. I didn't even know if you survived, I feared ... well, you see, this is going to be dangerous and I didn't want to put someone your age into something that has the possibility to go so badly wrong."

"I had not intended for Potter to come along either," Snape said, rolling his eyes, "but he has a tendency to get himself into scrapes."

"You were the one meddling with the box," Harry muttered under his breath rather crossly.

"Quiet Potter. Do continue."

Evelyn continued, looking ill at the thought of what she was about to explain.

"Ellery actually didn't make the box that brought you back. I did. He told me how to do the magic, and I made it with his help."

"Why couldn't he do it?" Harry asked curiously.

"His magic was taken from him," she explained, swallowing. Snape's eyes widened at this. "I don't quite understand how, but that's why I brought you back as help. The Potioneer's Society -"

"Told you it was important," Harry said to Snape under his breath.

"Indeed, now shut up."

"Yes sir," muttered Harry before Evelyn continued.

"- has been developing a potion. They needed a test subject, and one of the members of the Society happens to be Blaine McTavish's brother. He had travelled down into Scotland for his brother's burial, and on the way back to London he stopped in Bridgewater. He went into a pub, and Ellery and I were there too. It wasn't too long after you two left, and so Ellery and I had stopped in Bridgewater too as we fled the area. We wanted to see if you two had reached the Potions Master who made the antidote for McTavish's poison, which you hadn't. We didn't know what to think."

"We returned to our own time before we could get there, luckily enough," Snape added. "We had an antidote on hand in the castle."

"And thank goodness for that. We were so worried." Evelyn brushed her hair out of her eyes and continued. "Anyway, Ellery, myself and the maker of the antidote, whom we had met up with, were talking in the pub and Ellery was telling him what had happened before we fled. He was in the midst of talking about the battle between me and McTavish in the square when we were overheard. Then, James McTavish came over - he looks so much like Blaine, it's scary. At first we weren't really sure if we had been overheard, because he came over to retrieve a coin he had dropped, which had rolled over by our table. I picked it up, gave it to him, and that was that. We got out of there as soon as possible though, thinking we had been lucky, and that he hadn't heard us. It was dark outside, and when we came out someone grabbed Ellery. I think they initially wanted to grab me, but missed. Then he was dragged into an alley and pushed into a big black coach, and that was the last I saw of him for a long time. I tried to follow the coach by air, flying in my animagus form, but then a storm blew up and I had to take refuge in an abandoned barn until it passed. But I had a pretty good idea of where it was going.

"So I came here to London. I figured this must be where he was heading, because Blaine was originally from London. Everyone who knew Blaine before he went on that witch hunting rampage knew that he had family out here, and that he had only moved to Scotland to be with his wife, whom he had fallen in love with while she was living briefly with an Aunt. They moved to her hometown on her request, had their daughter, and you know the rest."

"What did they want with Ellery?" Snape asked.

"That's what I am so worried about," Evelyn said shakily, eyes widening and standing out starkly on her pale face. "I ran across James McTavish not too long ago a few streets over. He is filthy rich, and lives on the West side of London, along with all of his wealthy friends in the Potioneer's Society. He only inherited the family estate because Blaine gave it up, as his wife wanted to raise their children in her home town." Her tone became unmistakably bitter as she continued. "I wondered what James was doing, rubbing shoulders with the peasants, and so I followed him.

"I overheard him and a few others talking about testing a potion that the Society didn't know about, and so I continued to wait around White Cross Street, and tailed him a few times. From what I heard, they were planning on making a potion that would help them become even more powerful and superior. They were careful never to say what the potion did, but the person who did the memory charm on Ellery did it badly, because they only obliviated him of some things, so he remembered how to do magic. Except, he couldn't. The potion took away his magical power, though I don't know how.

"James McTavish met me when he gave Ellery back, so he knows who I am, and what I know. I think he let me find out, hoping I'll get killed trying stop him. He knows that I was the one who killed his brother, and he's seen me. Which is why I need outside help. I can disguise myself, but he'll always be looking for me, and I can only use my animagus form so much. In addition to that, even in my animagus form I still can't get into the building because of the wards. I've managed to get this house, and it was the closest place I could get to the Potioneer's Society. It's been easier to spy on them what with me not having to apparate across the city and risk getting caught by muggles. But still, I've only been able to do a bit of listening with magic near perimeter of the building itself, as I can't get in the wards. On top of it all, I know next to nothing about the Potioneer's Society, or potions in general, which was why I needed you."

The few lines on Snape's face became more prominent as he digested this information.

"It certainly is a tricky situation," he said both gravely and thoughtfully. "That potion could have the potential to do irreparable damage to the wizarding world. I can't imagine how much someone of high status would be willing pay for a potion that held that kind of power. To simply sterilize someone of their magic ... it is the ultimate threat. What do you propose we do to prevent this from being distributed? Unless it already has been?"

"Each batch takes two months to brew. They used up the small test batch on Ellery. Shortly after I found out what the potion did, and before they got too suspicious of me, I was spying at the Potioneer's Society building in my animagus form. I heard McTavish say that it would take at least that long until a larger batch would be ready."

"So what you're saying," Snape began, starting to see the scope of things, and clearly not liking the image he was seeing, "is that we have to infiltrate the Potioneer's Society - a building with some of the most advanced magical security of this century, might I add - then destroy the recipe and all traces of the potion, including - at the very least - altering the memories of those involved."

"Yes. But there's one more thing I haven't told you."

"What?"

"We have fourteen days to do it."

Snape cussed colourfully, and Harry felt his stomach sinking.

Evelyn sunk down by the hearth, resting her chin on her knees.

"It's too late to get any further tonight. It will be better if we figure it out tomorrow, once we've had some rest."

The three stared into the fire, eyes filled with worry.

"It's good to see you Evelyn," said Snape in a low voice after a while.

"It's good to see you too," she replied, the ghost of a smile emerging on her weary features.

***

It was a restless night for everyone, and for Harry and Snape this had little to do with the hard floor they were trying to sleep on. Evelyn had two spare blankets to give them, and because both Harry and Snape insisted, she slept on the straw tick rather than let one of them have it. The firelight had glowed softly for much of the night as the thunder and lightning raged above the house. There were times when all three of them were woken with a start, when a wild crash shook the floor. It must have been close to three in the morning when Evelyn finally gave up trying to sleep. When she got up, she cast a little flame into a glass jar. Harry watched it flickering on the tabletop from where he was lying by the dying fire. Evelyn took a roll of parchment, and a quill and ink pot from a small shelf nearby. The dim light from the trapped fire washed over the parchment as Evelyn spread it out, the dancing flames reflecting in her eyes. Unable to sleep any longer with the storm hammering the thin wooden walls of the house, Harry too pushed aside the quilt he was wrapped up in, and took a seat at the table.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes slightly before putting his glasses back into place. Evelyn looked up from the parchment.

With a tired smile she said, "I'm trying to make a rough map of London to make it easier to plan an attempt at getting into the Potioneer's Society. I'm afraid I haven't had the good fortune to have lived here all my life, unlike many of those at the Potioneer's Society."

Harry frowned, "How are you managing that? London's really big."

"With a lot of wandering around," said Evelyn. "I'm not making much progress though. It would be easier if I could find a way to fly undetected on a broomstick, above the city. But I don't have a broomstick, and unfortunately people don't take kindly to ravens circling above their houses. Children like to throw rocks at them. I almost broke my wing the last time."

"Maybe you won't have to do that," Harry said, an idea dawning on him. "Hold on."

Tiptoeing past the slumbering Snape, Harry went over to retrieve the rucksack Snape had brought with them. He carried it over to the table and unbuckled it. From it he slid the history book they had brought, and flipped through the pages. It was slightly damp from the rain, as the water had soaked through the rucksack. 

Evelyn looked extremely interested.

"It's a history book about the Potioneer's Society," said Harry. "We brought it along when we realized we might be travelling back in time again, because it mentioned James McTavish, and we thought he might be connected somehow. I think it's got a map in here."

Harry did some more flipping while Evelyn tried not to look too hopeful.

"Here it is," Harry said, delighted. "Look, there are two comparing the city before the Great Fire of London, and after. The second shows where the new Potioneer's Society was built. But we'll only need the older map."

"The Great Fire of London?" Evelyn asked, looking puzzled. "When was that?"

"Er," Harry said, biting his lip. "Never mind about that. It's not for a long time."

"Alright then," said Evelyn, looking down at the earlier map, her expression changing from one of confusion to one of joy. "This is perfect."

"And look, it even has the Potioneer's Society labelled, as well as the street names."

"Harry, this is so helpful, thank you."

"No problem. Um Evelyn, one question," Harry said. "I never did ask, what's the time?"

"I don't have a clock."

"Sorry, I mean, the date and year."

Evelyn chuckled slightly. "I guess you wouldn't know, would you? The year is 1613, and it is the 11th of June."

"Weird," Harry said. "It's only May back home."

"I suppose that would be a little bit strange," she said, peering down at the page with the map on it. "Time travel isn't meant to match up exactly anyway, I don't think."

As Evelyn was studying the map, which was a little small, she began to sketch out a brand new version on parchment. She explained to Harry as she did so that she needed to do some drawings overtop the map, and the extra space would be helpful. Harry watched her work in silence, and put his chin on his hands, which rested upon the table. Rain washed over the walls of the little house, the sound filling Harry's ears, along with the occasional scratch of Evelyn's quill. The soft tinkling of droplets of water falling into the many pots and buckets around the room was rather relaxing to Harry.

"Could you pass me the red ink?" Evelyn asked, indicating to the little pot sitting next to Harry's elbow.

Harry pushed it over to her, and she took the cap off, dipped the quill in and bent over her parchment once more. She brushed her auburn hair aside, as it was in danger of getting in the way of the not yet dry ink, which gleamed in the dim light, shimmering slightly as she continued to draw and label. Harry tore his gaze from the parchment as the map took shape before his eyes, and instead looked upon Snape. His Professor did not look like he was sleeping peacefully. His brows were furrowed, and he was frowning. He shifted in his sleep, onto his side, curled up under the quilt. A soft moan escaped his lips, and he curled up further.

"Sometimes I wonder what it is that haunts him at night," said Evelyn softly after a moment or two of this. Harry jumped, not realizing she had looked up from her paper.

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"When you two were here last year he barely slept, and the few times I did see him sleeping he looked like that," Evelyn continued, looking troubled. "It's like he can't wait to wake up to escape from his own head."

"Well, I don't think he has a very pleasant past," Harry muttered vaguely, thinking how Snape had confessed to him that he had unknowingly passed the piece of information to Voldemort that led to Harry's parents' deaths. While Harry had forgiven him, he thought that Snape still felt guilty. Often Harry wondered if there wasn't more to the picture. He did know that his mother had once been Snape's friend, and so he thought that perhaps that was the greatest cause of his professor's apparent guilt. Harry felt sick just thinking about what he would do if ever played a part in the death of one of his friends, unknowingly or not. "We talked a bit about it when McTavish had us locked up in jail. I don't think he'd want me to tell you. You'll have to ask him."

"No, I would rather hear it from Severus," said Evelyn. "From what I can tell, he doesn't trust people much already, so it wouldn't do for you to discuss such things with me behind his back."

"He's kind of bitter sometimes," Harry confessed suddenly, letting out a sigh and thinking of the way Snape had been treating him before they came here. "Well, really bitter. I sort of wonder what made him that way. It's weird, because he was actually pretty nice to me when we came back in time last time, but when I got out of the hospital wing back at school, it was like it never happened."

"Why, how was he different?"

"He has this way of looking right through you, I guess," Harry muttered. "But it wasn't like before we went back in time. Before he always insulted me in class. He was awful to me for the first few months of my first year at Hogwarts, but I think that's because he and my dad didn't get along, and he thought I was like him. I don't think he minded me all that much when he really got to know me, and I think he almost started to like me a tiny bit... or at least I thought so, because, after we got back home he started to act like I wasn't there. He wouldn't see me in the hallways if I tried to catch him to ask a question, or even comment on my potions in class. Then as soon as I showed him the book on the Potioneer's Society and we started talking about what happened, it was like he was a whole different person again. But it was funny; he was acting a bit like he couldn't make up his mind whether or not to talk to me. He's strange, sometimes."

Harry sighed and shook his head, resting his chin on his fists.

"What do you think brought that on?"

"I dunno. I just can't figure him out, or decide what to think of him for that matter. I mean, one moment I'm not there, and the next he's talking almost cheerfully and answering all my questions. It's like he can't decide whether to like me or not. I sort of feel the same way, what with the way he changes so much."

"He definitely is complicated," said Evelyn, glancing to where Snape was tossing and turning in his sleep. "He's a bit stubborn, but you know, oddly enough I've actually missed Severus quite a lot."

"Me too," Harry muttered. "The one that listens, at least."

Evelyn nodded slightly, looking pensive.

Snape moaned in his sleep, his foot kicking out, the quilt tangled around him.

Both Harry and Evelyn started, and turned their eyes on Snape for a moment or two. Thunder crashed overhead, but Snape did not wake up.

Garbled speech tumbled from Snape's mouth, coming thick and fast. Harry couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Do you think I should wake him?" Evelyn asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," said Harry, nodding gravely. He knew all too well what it was like to be trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up.

Harry laid his head on the table and watched out of the corner of his eye as Evelyn got up and went over to where Snape was sleeping. She knelt down, holding a hand out above his shoulder. She hesitated slightly, but as Snape's face became pinched with fear she shook him gently. The rain was coming down harder now, so Harry could just barely hear her speaking. Harry knew he should pay no attention, but it was difficult not to watch.

"Severus," she called loudly, though he did not respond for a little while.

Quite suddenly, Snape let out a gasp and bolted upright, one of his hands clenching the fabric of the quilt, his knuckles white. He looked around wildly for a moment, and then recognition poured over his face, and his hand released the fabric. Harry could not hear what Evelyn said over the storm, for she was speaking in a low voice. She still knelt by Snape's side. He remained sitting up, panting. He nodded to whatever it was she said to him, and he muttered something back. Snape looked ill, even in the warm light from the fire. Evelyn spoke a few more words, and Snape shook his head. He looked up for a second, and caught Harry staring. Harry looked away for a moment, and when he looked back Snape was lying on his side, his back to them. Evelyn stood up and went back to the table.

"You should try to get some sleep Harry," she said.

"Okay," Harry said. Evelyn seemed like she needed peace and solitude to work, so he got out of the chair and crawled under his own quilt. Evelyn looked lost in thought as she stared at the map before her.

Lying still and letting the warmth of the fire fight off the dampness of the room, Harry stared over at Snape's form, lying not far from him. For a second, Harry thought he saw Snape's back give a shudder, but the motion had stopped so quickly Harry decided he must have imagined it.

Day 1

When Harry awoke the next morning, Snape was up already, making tea over the fire. Evelyn appeared to have finally fallen asleep. She was laying on her straw tick, snoring very softly, brows furrowed. Snape motioned for Harry to be quiet, and Harry complied. He got up and folded his quilt to put on top of Snape's quilt, which was also folded in the corner. Harry arrived at the table, and Snape pulled the two chipped mugs out of his rucksack. Evelyn did not appear to have much for plates or cups. He poured the freshly brewed tea into the mugs and pushed one over to Harry.

"There is nothing here other than tea, so enjoy it," Snape said quietly. "The bread I brought got drenched in the downpour. I had not realized the waterproofing charm needed renewal on my rucksack. I will go later to see if I can procure some food."

"Yes sir," Harry muttered, blowing on the hot tea.

Snape also sat down at the table, and the two of them sat, blowing on their tea until it was cool enough. Harry's stomach growled hungrily, and quite loudly, but he did not say anything. Snape looked at him for a moment or two, clearly having heard the noise. He seemed to be waiting for Harry to complain of his hunger.

"How was your Christmas?" asked Snape after a little while, sounding awkward as he stared into the depths of his tea.

"Great," Harry replied. "I like it at the Burrow. Mr and Mrs Weasley are really nice."

"Better than before?"

"Yeah, a lot." Harry took a sip of his tea, not knowing what else to say.

"Good."

In the distance the bustling sounds of the city reached their ears. Carts clattered over the stones and horses whinnied. The gentle undercurrent of people talking flowed beneath these sounds, filling the silence that had fallen between Harry and Snape.

Harry stared into his tea thoughtfully. Perhaps now was the best time for him to ask Snape what had been bothering him so much. But asking why someone was ignoring you is always a difficult task, and, honestly, Harry felt confused. Was it just in his head, Snape ignoring him back at school? He was paying attention to him now (albeit a little hesitantly), wasn't he? He had been decent to him since they'd arrived. But whatever had changed? Why was it that Snape had decided to act as though Harry existed now? Was it like Ron said, that Snape was only acting this way because they were forced together, and he had no choice?

"Is something bothering you?" asked Snape curiously, setting his mug down on the table and narrowing his eyes slightly as he studied Harry.

Harry looked down into his tea and fidgeted.

"No. Well, yes ... I just was wondering ..." he began, but could not get the words out so, morosely, he continued on a different tangent. "When do you think we'll get back?"

Snape looked a little less tense as he answered.

"Whenever we finish helping Evelyn, I suppose," said Snape. "I am guessing we will be here about two weeks at the most."

"Okay," Harry said, angry at himself for chickening out.

After Harry said this, Evelyn began to stir. She sat up, looking groggy, and peered around the room.

"Is that tea I smell?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes, would you like some?" Snape replied.

"I would," said Evelyn, looking extremely grateful. She grabbed a comb from a shelf nearby and started to pull it through her hair while Snape poured her a cup of tea. "I haven't had money to buy tea for ages."

Snape put the mug on the table. This mug was one of Evelyn's, and was made of tin. She put the comb down, shook her hair out a little and then hurried over to the mug. Evelyn took a seat and wrapped her hands around her tea. She took a sip, though it was hot enough to burn.

"Mmm," she sighed. "Thank you so much."

"It was no trouble," Snape said, looking rather amused.

"To tell the truth, I haven't really had much money for anything," she said, sounding disappointed with herself. "After what happened I never really did get a chance to go back to my home, and without a garden I can't sell vegetables like I used to. Not that I had much back home anyway, but it still would have been nice to return. But, after what I did, some of the higher ups want me hung for Blaine McTavish's murder. When Ellery and I returned to the cave to get his inventing things we were going to try to get into my house, but they had people posted nearby, waiting for me to return, so we had to call it off. Pity, really. I had a little bag of coins hidden away."

She scoffed in disgust before continuing. "I've been transfiguring stones into buttons to sell or trade on the streets just to be able to eat. I don't know how on earth we'll be able to feed three of us."

Snape looked thoughtful for a second.

"Well, I think I might have a solution to that," Snape said, the ghost of smirk on his face. "Potter, get up, and move away from the chair."

Harry stood up cautiously, and edged a few steps from his seat. Snape pointed his wand at the chair. The worn wood suddenly began to flex and ripple, and then it split into two before Harry's eyes, although it was not the type of splitting one would imagine with wood. It looked more as though the chair had suddenly become putty and two hands were pulling it apart. The result left two identical chairs.

"Oh bravo," said Evelyn sarcastically. "You can make as many worn out, rickety chairs as you want but -"

"Patience, I am not finished," said Snape, clearly not bothered at all by Evelyn's response. He waved his wand again, and the wood began to ripple and change once more. It grew a dark cherry colour, and elegant carvings began to blossom upon the back and legs. The grain of the wood was brought out by a shining gloss that began to form over the chair. In its glamour, the chair looked highly abnormal in the room with the other roughly cut furniture.

Snape lowered his wand.

"On second thought, I don't think anyone will buy that, will they?" said Snape dryly, staring at the chair with a bored expression. He looked back at Evelyn, one eyebrow raised.

Evelyn simply gaped.

"Where on earth did you learn to do that?" she asked in admiration. Harry couldn't help but wonder the same.

"I studied a while at Westminster Potions Academy, and in order to get a degree you had to do a few arts electives. They claimed it was to broaden your horizons, or some sort of rubbish like that. Anyway, I took magical carpentry, and one of the units focused on transfiguration of wood. I am afraid I have not had much use for what I learned, other than fix old potions benches, but some of the magic behind it is quite fascinating."

Evelyn got up and studied the chair.

"I have got to learn how to do this," she said, a smile breaking over her tired face.

***

Harry's first foray into the medieval marketplace set his head spinning. Of course, this could have had something to do with the fact that he wasn't wearing his glasses (far too conspicuous for a peasant during that time period) and therefore could only see a general mass of shapes. Snape too, however, seemed a little bit overwhelmed by the excitement of it all. It was very much different from what Harry knew. In the streets here people were shouting at the top of their voices and passing squawking birds in exchange for baskets of potatoes or bread.

They had gotten up quite early to prepare for the excursion. Both Harry and Snape had to find something different than their robes to wear, for, while they blended in alright with an old fashioned magical population due to robe styles being fairly similar, muggle peasants were another matter entirely. Harry and Snape had therefore been given some of Ellery's old clothing to wear (Harry's had been shrunk, of course), and they had set out onto the street as the occupants of the other houses were just beginning to stir. At first they had been planning to walk the distance to the marketplace on Cheap Side, carrying the chairs, but luckily a passer-by had been headed in that direction with a horse and cart, and had offered to give them a ride for free. The horse was older, and the man was quite kind so he let it go at its own pace. Harry did not mind this in the least, as he was quite happy to watch the world go by, especially when they entered the markeplace, for there was a great deal to see. Harry watched intently as he sat with his legs dangling from the cart, the clacking of the wheels sounding beneath him. These sounds however were easily drowned out by the sheer noise of bartering and the wild hubbub around them. For a moment, Harry and Snape exchanged amazed glances, mostly in surprise of the general boredom Evelyn was showing, clearly used to the chaos. They looked away from each other quickly, however.

"This is fine," Evelyn called to the driver.

The cart squeaked slightly as it came to a halt, and Snape jumped down. It was quite distance to the ground, and his boots slapped on the stone. The horse looked lazily back at Harry as Evelyn passed the chairs down to Snape. The horse blinked, and then set its sight forward again.

"Thank you sir," Harry said to the driver.

"It was a pleasure," said the man. "It's always nice to see a family working together to make a living. Them chairs are very well made."

Harry just smiled, trying to refrain from screaming that he and Snape were not related in any way.

Snape too seemed to have difficulty holding his tongue, but he thanked the driver as well.

"Come on then," he said to Harry, who was looking down at the long drop, unable to properly make out the road because of his blurred vision. Harry was not all that keen on jumping where he couldn't properly see. Snape rolled his eyes and grabbed Harry's arm. "You'll be fine, now jump."

Harry did so, and Snape steadied his landing. The driver then slapped the reigns, and the horse lumbered forward, leaving Harry and Snape to cross the street to where Evelyn had set the chairs.

"How you can stand up on a flying broomstick and still be nervous to get off a cart, I'll never know," Snape said, rolling his eyes.

"That's different, flying just comes naturally for me," Harry said. "And I had to leave my glasses at Evelyn's, remember? I could barely see where to land."

Snape did not respond, and instead began a conversation with Evelyn while Harry indulged himself a little and sulked behind them.

"That old man thought we were a family," said Snape, rather disgruntled. "I recall someone though Potter was my son the last time we travelled to your era as well."

"No use sulking over it," Evelyn said. "You two do look a little alike, what with the dark hair. There's nothing wrong with that anyway. I don't really see why it bothers you, you know."

Harry huffed slightly as he wandered a little ways away.

"I suppose," muttered Snape. "It just seems strange."

"Oh look, I think someone's coming to look at the chairs," said Evelyn.

Harry didn't pay much attention to what was going on after that, and merely watched the hubbub of the marketplace. Every so often someone would come along to browse by the chairs, and Evelyn would hold her breath hopefully. But it was well past lunch by the time someone came along that was actually seriously considering buying them.

Harry and Snape sat back while Evelyn bartered, as she was much more familiar with how much money was worth in this time period. The rather well to do man who was interested in the chairs took great pains inspecting them. While this too place, Harry and Snape sat in the shadows of a stall someone had erected.

"Sir? Is it just me, or has that old man over there been staring at us for a long time?" Harry whispered to his Professor.

"Hmm?" Snape said, having been shaken out of his thoughts. "Who?"

"The man with the hat pulled low over his eyes, and the pocket watch, over there," Harry said.

Snape caught sight of the man in question as the glint of the slightly tarnished timepiece flashed in the air when he slid it into his pocket.

"You think he has been watching us?"

"Well, I don't really think he sees you and I, exactly, but he's been watching Evelyn like a hawk," Harry muttered.

Snape looked alarmed at this, and without saying another word went over to Evelyn's ear and whispered something into it while the man was inspecting the chairs. Evelyn stiffened slightly, and hastily accepted the buyer's proposed price. She pocketed the money, trying not to look too worried. The buyer loaded up the chairs onto the back of a cart, and Evelyn slid into the shadows when she thought that the suspicious man wasn't looking.

"Where should we go?" asked Harry as they huddled behind a rickety booth with fabric curtains.

"Oh drat, I really should have brought a map," Evelyn moaned quietly to herself. "Severus, please tell me that you just so happen to know the layout of London."

"Well, I do," began Snape quietly. Hope filled Evelyn's eyes, until she heard the next part. "Unfortunately, that is over three hundred and fifty years in the future!"

Evelyn bit her lip.

"How about this way?" Harry asked, pointing down an alley, which looked very fuzzy with his bad vision.

"Sure," said Evelyn, admitting defeat.

The three ducked into the alley, then turned down another small lane, winding in and around the streets as they tried to lose whoever it was that had been watching them. After a while, Harry decided that they could not have been followed.

"Shh!" Evelyn said suddenly as they stopped.

Snape too looked highly alert.

They stayed still for a long time, but eventually Evelyn motioned for them to keep moving.

"Probably just a rat, or a cat," muttered Evelyn.

Snape didn't look so sure, but their journey back to Tower Street was unhindered, although rather longer than it would have been. After a while they relaxed, and Harry began to wonder if they hadn't just imagined the man paying close attention to what they were doing. On the way back to Evelyn's little house, they stopped by a smaller market not too far from Tower Street. Harry got to carry the two loaves of bread, still warm from being in the oven. Stomachs rumbled all around, and when they finally went into the house they could hardly wait to eat. With the money from the chairs they had enough for bread, some asparagus, a bag of potatoes, and bit of meat. They even had a few coins left over. They put what they could save down in the small cellar. Evelyn began cooking once this was done, and Snape pulled out the maps and some parchment. He scribbled away upon the parchment, drawing squiggly diagrams and making nearly illegible notes. But he crossed many of these out, frustration growing in his eyes.

Supper was finally finished, and the three tried not to wolf down their food. It disappeared quickly anyway, but this was just as well, for there was work to do.

"Have you been able to figure out a way to breach the wards?" Evelyn inquired to Snape as she passed a soapy plate to Harry.

As Harry dried it he looked over his shoulder, also awaiting Snape's answer.

Snape just shook his head.

When he was done drying dishes, Harry tapped his toes on the wood as he sat in his chair, listening to the wind making the shutters creak. Snape and Evelyn had their heads close together as they muttered about wards and various spells that might help them gain access to the Potioneer's Society undetected. Harry thought that it wasn't going well.

"Did you hear that sir?" Harry asked after a while, suddenly alert.

"That infernal tapping, you mean?" said Snape irritably as he scratched out yet another plan on the parchment. Evelyn was frowning heavily.

"No, footsteps, I heard someone -"

There was a knock on the door, slow and deliberate.

Snape cursed under his breath and scrambled to roll up the plans. Evelyn loaded them into Snape's arms and he dashed over to the straw tick mattress. He lifted the edge and stuffed all of the papers underneath it. The knock sounded again.

"Should we answer it?" whispered Harry.

Evelyn took a deep breath, and nodded.

"They already know we're here," she said shakily, eyes flicking over to the blazing fire shedding light over the room.

Snape had his wand up his sleeve, and he motioned for Evelyn to answer the door. He was standing in the shadows, ready to curse whoever it was. There was a glint in Snape's eye that Harry thought was a strange sort of readiness. It was with a chilling shiver that it dawned on Harry that Snape seemed prepared to do more than hex the person should he need to.

Harry let his feet travel backward, until his shoulders rested against the wall. Then Evelyn opened the door. The wind gusted in, warm and damp.

She took once glimpse of the man and her shoulders sagged with relief.

"It's just a beggar Severus," she said. "We've had a few words before."

Evelyn must have had a good reason not to be worried, because the man looked terrifying to Harry. He had a small leather patch over one of his eyes, and the other was deep, dark blue. His cheeks were sunken in, and he had a thick, grey beard. He was dressed in rather tattered clothing, but he looked fairly well kept considering. Although his gaze held a kind of intensity that made Harry want to look away. Yet, Harry thought he looked oddly familiar.

"Sorry sir," said Evelyn as Snape came out of the shadows. "We got a little bit carried away."

"That's alright ma'am, dark night," said the beggar courteously. His voice was low and gravelly, but his way of speaking was not that of a poor Londoner. He appeared to have come from somewhere higher up before he ended up on the streets. Harry took a step away from the wall, wondering what misfortune had befallen the man.

"What have you come for?" Evelyn inquired. "I have a little bit of spare bread I can give you."

"I'm not here for food," said the man. "May I enter?"

"For what reason?" asked Snape suspiciously.

"I do not wish to discuss some things on doorsteps," he muttered. "It is in your best interest to allow me to come in."

Snape stared in scrutiny at the beggar for a few moments, eyes scanning his face.

"Let him in Evelyn," said Snape softly.

Evelyn stepped aside and the beggar walked through the doorway. She shut the door behind him. Snape sat down at the table and offered the man a seat. Harry made to open his mouth, to tell Snape what had just dawned up on him ... that this man had been watching them earlier that day. He was sure it was the same man. Snape caught his eye, and gave him a knowing look, so Harry remained silent.

Evelyn took a seat as well, but Harry stayed standing in the corner.

The beggar's eye glanced over to Harry, but it did not linger. He looked back at Snape.

"You mind?" he asked in that gravelly voice as he pulled out a pipe, and some tobacco.

"No," said Evelyn.

He filled the pipe, and struck a match. It flared to life in the slightly dim room, reflecting in the man's uncovered eye. He took a long pull and, then exhaled.

Evelyn looked thoughtful before she spoke. "You never have told me your name."

"Name's not important."

"I'd like to know anyway, if that's alright," Evelyn said firmly.

He looked at her, and then let out a low chuckle. The sound made the hair on Harry's neck stand up.

"Samuel Hearne."

"Samuel Hearne?" Snape said, eyes snapping up from where they were examining the tabletop. "The inventor of Polyjuice Potion?"

Evelyn lightly kicked Snape's shin under the table. He did well not to show any pain he might have been feeling.

"So I do get credit in the future, eh?" said the man, a look of delight crossing his face as he took another lengthy pull from the pipe.

Harry felt his head spin, and Evelyn looked astonished.

"Don't look so worried, I know all about that," he said with another chuckle. "I don't beg on this street because you get a lot. I've been paying great attention to the goings on of this household, Evelyn. That old man definitely knew what he was doing. My condolences, by the way."

Evelyn blinked rapidly.

Harry looked away from Evelyn, and over to Snape. Harry almost laughed when he saw the expression on his face. He looked like a first year, eagerly awaiting the chance to do magic for the first time.

"How long did it take you?" Snape blurted. "Polyjuice, I mean. How long did you spend developing it?"

"Eighteen years," said Hearne, looking mildly amused. Evelyn rolled her eyes at Snape.

"Eighteen years ..." echoed Snape softly, looking lost in thought.

"Not that I got any benefit from it," growled Hearne. "That bastard stole it. Never did get a chance to patent it."

"Is that why you're out on the streets?" Snape asked.

"Damn straight," was the answer they were given after Hearne took another lengthy pull from his pipe.

"Who took it?" asked Evelyn.

"James McTavish," Hearne replied, the name a curse upon his lips.

Nobody was surprised.

"I never did know where that recipe ended up, but it's all over the market now, my name not even attached." The bitterness of his voice was poisonous.

"I know," Harry said. "He must have sent it to his brother. We came back in time before, and a friend of his brother used it to spy on us."

Hearne's face grew dark. He seemed to have nothing to say in response, but he nodded to Harry before continuing.

"You're a member of the Potioneer's Society, perhaps you can help us stop James McTavish from doing worse," Snape said.

"I was a member," Hearne muttered. "Was."

"But you can tell us how it works, and the layout of the building and its defences," Evelyn said hopefully.

"I can't tell you any of those things ... there are too many things they forbid you to speak of," he replied gravely, taking another pull from his pipe. "They banished me from the society for my potion being stolen. Everyone is in charge of their own work, and the protection surrounding it, so if it is stolen then the blame falls upon the maker. That I can say. Unfinished potions are dangerous business if they're put to use. So they banished me for such a major error, because the code forbids unfinished work reaching the outside world before it is approved, and deemed safe.

"Nobody would believe me that it was James who stole the potion, that the society was corrupt, no good. My potion was almost ready to be released, though not quite. It was fully functional, but I needed to find a way to make it less painful, for we had one tester nearly pass out from it. In addition to that, I had yet to test multiple uses on one person and the effects involved with that. But around the time I was doing this, I had discovered some of James' notes, and knew he was delving into dark territory. I told him to stop it ... tried to reason with him. He would not accept any of that, being too hungry for the power he could gain. He was worried I would give away his secret, so James retaliated, and he stole my recipe to sell on the black market, and, I suppose, to send to his brother as well. Only I knew he had done it, and then I was banished for breaking the code. But before I left, I had to take an unbreakable vow, so that I could not reveal how the building is protected, and the specifics of projects the members are working on, as well as certain details on how the structure of the society works. Memory charms can be too easily breached, if one wants to break it badly enough. But you already know what McTavish is up to, don't you? Why else would you be planning a break in?"

Silence fell for a few moments as Hearne sucked some more smoke from the pipe and everyone digested the information.

"So you cannot help us break in?" Snape said, crestfallen.

"Whoever said I couldn't do that?" Hearne said, a glint in his eyes.

"You're willing to die to give us information?" Evelyn said incredulously.

"No," said Hearne. "I wanted you to know that someone is on your side."

Harry frowned.

"Sorry I can't do more, boy," Hearne said to him. "It'll work out, you'll see."

"I hope so sir," muttered Harry, and then he looked at his feet as Hearne took another drag from the pipe.

"He your apprentice?" Hearne asked Snape, blowing smoke rings.

"Not exactly," Snape said.

"Hmm. He looks like a hard worker. Well, I should be going."

Samuel Hearne then pulled out a wand, and he tapped the pipe. It went out with a slight hiss. Then he stowed it back in his pocket.

"Don't want to use all my tobacco at one time," he said cheerfully as he stood up, wand in hand.

"It was good visiting with you," said Evelyn, although her voice was shaking with disappointment.

Hearne stood up, and Snape shook his hand, saying a few words of good luck.

"You too," said Hearne as he strode toward the door. He paused next to the ordinary willow twig broom, which was leaning up against the wall close to the door. "You'd best hurry with that plan."

He smiled rather mischievously, and then went out the door.

Harry sat down in the empty chair, and Evelyn put her face in her hands. Silence fell for a few moments, until Snape broke it. His voice was shaking slightly, but strangely enough, Harry thought it was with excitement.

"Evelyn, look at your broom."

Evelyn's head snapped up.

Harry stared.

The broom wasn't a broom anymore. It was a spade. A shiny, metal spade.

Snape stood up, his chair sliding back with a clatter.

"Evelyn," he said hoarsely. "I know how we can avoid the wards."

She too rose to her feet. "Of course, the wards, they can't possibly go underground too? Can they?"

"Subterranean warding was not invented until the mid seventeen-hundreds," Snape said with a sudden grin, and Harry felt excitement beginning to rise within him.

"But how will we know where to surface?" Evelyn said, biting her lip and sitting back down. "For that we would need to know the layout of the building. I don't think there is one in that book of yours. Just its location in London."

"But he already told us how," Snape said slowly, looking at Harry, who suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

"Potter, how would you like to be apprenticed at the Potioneer's Society?"

Day 1 Continued

Harry's heart still hammered with the revelation at what he was to be doing, and he barely heard Snape explain how they were going to go about apprenticing Harry. All he knew was that this plan defied every survival instinct he had learned. If they were to go through with this, he would be walking into the building that housed the enemy. He fought not to show how much this scared him, for he knew that this was the only feasible way for them to get an in-depth look at the inside of the Potioneer's Society, and thus figure out where a tunnel could surface within it. Harry was also finally beginning to see that their lives rested on the success of their mission to destroy McTavish's potion. He knew very well that his parents probably never would have met if they had not been magical, and gone to Hogwarts. Harry could only assume that magical blood played at least some part in Snape coming to be in the world as well. For these reasons, Harry tried to be brave, but the fact was that he was terrified of being magically bound to some man whom he had never met in his entire life. Evelyn too seemed to be worried about this last issue.

"But those contracts are legally binding," Evelyn said to Snape as he pulled out a piece of parchment and immediately began a letter to the Potioneer's Society with the request for an apprenticeship.

"For a few years, yes," Snape replied, loading the quill. "But, if the person who was apprenticed should, say, disappear off the face of the planet for the next three hundred years or so, then it can do nothing. When Harry and I return to the present, the contract will be long broken, and have no way of harming him."

"I suppose so," Evelyn said rather worriedly.

"Which reminds me," Snape muttered thoughtfully, seeming to return to the conversation without having heard Evelyn's words. "How is it that we will return? On our last journey we returned to our time a while after we helped rescue your friends, which the invention brought us there to do. Should this mission succeed, will we simply have to wait until the magic reverses and sends us back?"

"No. Not this time. I thought that seemed a little bit unreliable, and dangerous, given Harry getting poisoned the last time," Evelyn said, almost apologetically. "So, Ellery helped me alter the powder recipe he used. See, at first he had simply mixed together the powder that would take you there, and the powder to take you back. The magic, which was within the dust, was absorbed into your magical core at contact, and lay dormant until you had fulfilled your mission, as Ellery had charmed it to do so. We changed it a bit so that you two could choose to go back when you wish."

Evelyn waved her wand, and there was a tinkle. A small glass phial with a cork in it whizzed over to where Evelyn, Harry and Snape were sitting.

A shimmering blue dust lay within the phial, and Evelyn handed it gingerly to Snape.

"Here, you should keep it. It's got a charm to make it unbreakable, but best keep it in a safe place, because the powder becomes active as soon as the seal is broken. The powder can be used up until the magic has pulled it through time. After that you are out of luck."

Snape looked at it for a moment, the tiny tube lying in his palm. Then he waved his wand and a thick leather cord appeared in the air, twisting and coiling. He waved his wand again, and it fastened itself tightly around the little glass phial. He slipped the cord over his neck and tucked the little phial safely beneath his robes.

"We must be very careful with it then," he muttered, eyes dropping to the parchment as he continued to write out the letter.

***

Day 2

The next morning Harry was woken very early by a rather rough poke from Snape.

"Up Potter," he said, giving Harry a few jabs in the side. "Up, up, up."

"Unggg," Harry said.

"None of that. We have a tunnel to dig. I've been up an hour already."

"It's six in the morning!" Harry said, looking at the tiny clock on the mantle.

"And your point is?" Snape inquired scathingly, dangling Harry's trainers above him by the laces.

"Oof," Harry grunted as Snape dropped the shoes onto him.

"Lace up, eat a piece of bread, and keep an eye on what is going on outside while we pry up the floorboards. This part might get a little loud, and we do not want any nosy neighbours."

"We're tunnelling from here?"

"Too many eyes out on the streets, and after I woke up I went for a walk to see if there were any abandoned buildings closer than the house. There aren't any, so this is the only place we know for sure we can dig undetected, with the help of a little magic. Besides, wizards dig faster than Muggles, Mr Potter."

"If wizards dig so fast, then why have we got to get up at six in the morning?" Harry muttered under his breath as he put his shoes on. He was careful not to let Snape hear.

Doing exactly what Snape had said, Harry took a piece of bread, ate it hastily, and joined the speculation going on in the corner of the room. Snape and Evelyn appeared to be surveying the floor, choosing the best place to build a trapdoor.

"Potter, stand by the shutters and watch through the crack to make sure that nobody sees or hears; silencing charms are not one hundred percent foolproof."

Harry nodded, wandering over to the window. The street looked fairly quiet outside, so he dared to take a glance behind him every so often. Snape and Evelyn both drew their wands, and looked down at the floor.

"Go ahead Severus," Evelyn said.

He waved his wand, and there was a scraping, grinding noise. Harry glanced over his shoulder occasionally to watch as Snape guided his wand above the wood floor. As the wand moved, sawdust sprayed up from the long line that was forming along the wood. It travelled forward, cutting through a few of the boards. Snape raised his wand slightly, and the sound stopped, and then he repositioned it. Harry looked out into the street until the sound stopped once more. Once he determined that they had not been overheard, Harry glanced back again at the scene in the cottage. Evelyn was helping Snape lift up the lengths of board that had been put into place directly on the packed earth foundation. Snape took each of the lengths of board, and then two other boards that had once been a shelf. With a swish of his wand, he attached the two smaller boards onto the square of wood which was to become the hatch. To test it, Snape settled it back into place. He lifted it back out by the small knothole that had been hollowed out in one of the boards. From a distance, the trapdoor was not overly visible. A few well-placed charms on Evelyn's part, and you couldn't even see the trapdoor to lift it, unless you knew it was there.

"That will do Potter," Snape said. "We do not require you to be watching the street any longer. Make sure to pull the curtain over the crack in the shutter."

"Yes sir," Harry said.

A few minutes later, Harry was sent to take notes on the defences employed to protect the Potioneer's Society. Snape had already read the chapter (and probably memorized it, Harry thought wryly) but he wished for a hard copy of what they were to be facing, and he thought it a good idea for Harry to know as much about the building as possible, should the reply to their letter lead to an apprenticeship.

Once Harry had set to work, Evelyn began to teach Snape some of the charms she had learned to do when gardening. Harry had trouble paying attention to what he was doing as bits of earth flew from the trapdoor. Snape was altering the incantation Evelyn had taught him, tweaking the wand movement and the words slightly in order to make it more productive. It took them a very long time to get a good charm that moved enough dirt to ensure they would be able to tunnel fast enough. All through this time, Harry read about the Potioneer's Society, and it was a very good thing that he did, for they received a very speedy reply to their letter. The response was in their hands by eight-thirty that night, much to their surprise. No sooner had the owl swooped in through the window than did Snape tear open the letter. Harry and Evelyn stood by anxiously, waiting for the verdict. After a few moments, Snape lifted his eyes from the parchment, looking grim. He sat down heavily in a chair by the fire. The letter almost slipped from his grasp.

"It doesn't matter, we'll find another way -" Evelyn reassured Snape, taking his response as an indicator that the letter had denied their request.

Snape shook his head slowly.

"This might just work," he said, his voice low, Harry hanging onto his every word as he wondered what the letter had said. Snape saw Evelyn giving him a questioning look, and he elaborated. "There is an opening for an apprentice. It looks promising. And they're interested."

"But there's something else, isn't there?" Evelyn said, hands on her hips. "You don't look entirely pleased."

"I did not expect for them to have an opening so soon," Snape said honestly. "But it says that they have not had many applicants as of late, and so they have a backlog of requests from a few of the members for apprentices, which means that we can get Harry in almost immediately, but not before they meet with him and his parents. Soon."

"Parents?" Harry asked, feeling like a stone was in his belly, completely forgetting to notice that Snape had thawed enough to call him by his first name momentarily. If he had paid any attention to this, he might have thought that Snape was worried for him. "But they're dead."

"They do not know that," Snape said, looking rather impatient. "A few well-placed charms should disguise Evelyn and I well enough, if done with care."

Harry did not like the sound of all of this.

"This is not my cup of tea either Potter," Snape said in response to his frown, his tone becoming heavier as he continued, "but it's either this, or McTavish distributes that potion to the most powerful names in the magical world ... and people like us won't stand a chance."

"Being apprenticed will be dangerous, Harry," Evelyn said, taking a step forward, "and if you aren't careful things can go wrong very quickly. But you will have access to information that Severus and I cannot possibly get. You will know the layout of the building, and with a bit of careful wandering and getting ‘lost', you can hopefully find out where McTavish's potion is. Remember, this is your choice. We will not force you into this."

Harry expected Snape to contradict her about the last part, but he did not, and sat looking intently at Harry.

"I will," he said after a moment of hesitation. He had known what he would say long before this, however, for he had been awake for much of the night thinking.

Worried and uncertain looks were passed around, making Harry hope that this was the right decision, and that this would lead them to victory, because he was starting to see that everything depended on this. A potion that could take someone's magic away - take his magic away- at the whim of someone who was only considered better than him because of blood ties and money was something he wanted destroyed as soon as possible. The very thought of what it could do terrified him, and if the most prestigious members of society now had a hold of something like that, Harry could only imagine the ways it would change the future. If the rich and powerful could simply sterilize people of their magic, just to intimidate them, they would have unspeakable power. He almost shivered when he thought of what families like the Malfoys would do if they had a potion like the one McTavish had made. That was why he knew he had to do this, even if it meant risking it all, because if they failed, everything he held dear was at stake: his friends, his home at Hogwarts, and even his own magic should the potion alter his family somewhere along the line. Harry understood that time was a tricky thing, and while he could not fully understand all of the repercussions of what should happen if they did not succeed, he knew that the wizarding world would be forever changed, and not for the better.

"Then we had best decide how we're going to present ourselves at this meeting," Evelyn said, breaking the silence.

Snape pulled a piece of parchment toward him, and scribbled their reply.

"Shall we see if we can do the meeting tomorrow? I can make up some reason for Harry's apprenticeship being urgent."

"Well we haven't much time to waste, do we?"

"Then it is settled. We lost the farm and have to find a place for our boy to go because we cannot afford to keep him," Snape said. "That sounds urgent enough, I should say."

"Do try to make them feel sorry for Harry," Evelyn said. "A little bit of pity goes a long way when you're trying to get into someone's good graces."

"I don't want pity," Harry said automatically.

"You shall be pitied, and like it Potter," Snape said sternly. "And play up the starving bit as much as you can when we get to the Potioneer's Society. Although I daresay you're skinny enough for the part already." He paused for a moment before continuing in a slightly offhand way, "It's a wonder too; I imagine Molly tried to stuff you to the gills over Christmas, and no doubt she's been sending baking since."

Harry laughed, surprised by the comment despite its truth. Snape smirked as he signed the letter with flourish.

***

Day 3

A flurry of shuffling brought an air of anxiety into the small home as the three prepared for their meeting with the head of apprenticeship at the Potioneer's Society, which was taking place only the morning after they got the letter that said he was being considered. It seemed as though luck was on their side. Although, Harry couldn't help but wonder why there had been such a lack of applicants that he was able to get in immediately. While he pretended to be relieved that he was able to get in so quickly, inside he was terrified. What if there was a very good reason why nobody had requested an apprenticeship lately? Knowing that there was no time for questions such as this, Harry sat back and watched Evelyn and Snape's attempts to disguise each other.

Evelyn was sitting at the table across from Snape and was carefully waving her wand to change his looks. Luckily, she did not have to change them drastically, as nobody knew who he was, and would therefore not be looking for him. First, Evelyn gave Snape an old fashioned looking moustache, which Harry thought looked extremely strange, considering his Professor was always clean shaven. It didn't look half bad, either, despite the oddness of it. She lightened his eyes, and gave his hair a bit of a wave to it so that it looked a little bit more like Harry's, though longer. This was the only change she needed to make to his hair, which Harry found amusing. His professor's hairstyle blended in surprisingly well on the streets of medieval London. In no time at all, Snape was different enough that Harry had to study him for a moment to see his Professor, for Evelyn had even made his prominent nose became much less pointed and sharp. She also added a little bit of colour to his skin, to make him look like he had been working outside, as they were planning on saying that they were farmers.

Evelyn's turn was next, and Harry sat, spellbound as he watched Snape manipulate his wand, changing Evelyn's features. It was quite impressive. He turned her hair a jet black, like Harry's, which was quite a change from the auburn it normally was. She was much less pale than Snape, so he did not darken her skin. He did however give her more freckles. He made her jaw more square, and grew her hair a bit longer, and made it curl in tight ringlets. Harry had to admit he was impressed. Snape however, seemed dissatisfied as he stood back from her. After a few moments of consideration, he hesitantly lifted his wand and changed her brown eyes to an emerald green.

"I still worry that McTavish will recognize you," Snape said. "It is entirely possible that we may run into him while we're in the Potioneer's Society."

"Perhaps," said Evelyn, frowning. "But we haven't time to find any other way to disguise me, and I need to get a glimpse of the inside of that building too. Every second that we are in there will help us to break in. We might as well do it this way, and by some off chance that we see McTavish at all, I'll just pretend to be distraught that my son is going to be leaving home, and I'll cover my face and cry."

"There is that," said Snape thoughtfully. "Besides, should we end up seeing him, it will probably be in passing."

"Now that that's settled, let us hurry," Evelyn said. "It's almost noon. Harry, do you have your things? They did say that if you were accepted, you would begin today."

Harry nodded and picked up the little sack he had with him. It held is school robe (the Gryffindor patch had been magicked of by Snape), and an outfit only slightly different from the plain peasant clothes he wore now. He missed his robes, and hoped that he could wear them if he ended up being apprenticed at the Potioneer's Society. Snape had said that he probably would have to anyway, which was why he had advised Harry to take them. That was one thing Harry noticed had not changed a whole lot over so many years; work robes, such as his school ones, didn't look much different from what he had seen the last time he had encountered wizards from this time period. The only different thing about his robes was the fabric, which was much less rough. Snape had done a simple charm on it to make it look more from the time period. To Harry's amusement, Snape seemed a little bit envious that Harry could at least wear robes, for Snape had to blend into Muggle London. This of course meant that he was still stuck wearing the simple styles of a peasant.

"Alright, Potter," Snape said to him. "Tell me what you have to do."

"The most important thing is to find out where McTavish's lab is located," Harry recited blandly, having spent ages having his objectives drilled into his head by Snape, "as well as go down into the lowest level of the building to find the best place for a tunnel to surface. When I get a chance, take out the parchment and write to you two, as well as draw maps. Don't go wandering unless I am told to, and do not do anything foolish, especially if it means I might get caught."

"Good. You've got your parchment?" Snape inquired.

Harry nodded.

"I want to test them, just one last time," Evelyn said suddenly, pulling a small roll of parchment from her pocket.

Harry pulled out an identical piece of parchment from his bag, and he unrolled it on the table silently. Snape handed him a quill, and he scribbled down a few words. He tapped his wand on his parchment, and Evelyn held up her own. After a few moments the words appeared on her parchment, disappearing from Harry's.

They all let out a breath of relief. A small weight lifted off Harry's shoulders at the knowledge that one piece of the plan was definitely functioning properly, but this did little to relieve the ever growing tension deep inside him. It was clear that he was not the only one in a state of inner turmoil, for by the way Snape's jaw was clenched and Evelyn's eyes had widened, Harry knew they too felt as he did.

"Time to go," Snape announced firmly, but it was a moment before they all moved from their spots and went toward the door.

It was not too long of a walk to the Potioneer's Society, which Harry thought was good considering the fact they had to tunnel the distance. Evelyn had picked the location of her house well. There was a very stark contrast however, from the area Evelyn's home was and where they were walking to. As they grew nearer to the Potioneer's Society the buildings and houses got larger, and more extravagant. It was quite different from the poor side of London. Harry's eyes were wide as they walked from street to street. Nobody seemed to notice this, however, which Harry found rather liberating. Nobody was watching him. For once he could blend in, even though he did not have a disguise like Evelyn and Snape. They had not thought it necessary, and magical alterations would not last on him for a prolonged period of time without renewal. But here, it did not matter. Nobody had heard of the Boy Who Lived, and not a soul cared about lightning bolt scars or a dark wizard named Voldemort. Harry felt a strange sort of freedom to the whole thing. He found the weight on his shoulders lift just a little bit as one burden was lifted from them. However, new burdens were falling fast upon him.

"It should be right around the corner," Snape said, talking of the Potioneer's Society. "It's invisible to Muggles, but to us it should have a carved granite front."

Harry felt quite suddenly as though his stomach was filled with rocks. What if he didn't get in, and they had to waste countless hours in making a new plan? What if he was accepted? What if he had to stay there, in the Potioneer's Society, all alone and with no Evelyn or Snape there to protect him? He knew little of defensive spells. In fact, all Defence Against the Dark arts had been about all year was theory.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Snape asked a little distractedly as he looked for the building. He had noticed the greenish tinge to Harry's skin.

Harry looked at him in surprise, registering the fact that Snape had called him Harry. He had done so on occasion the last time they had come to the past, and that had only been when something was wrong. This use of his first name scared Harry a little bit, for the renewed use of his first name made Harry see that Snape must have been a little bit nervous too for what was to come. Yet, he also felt that being called by his first name was a rather nice change from Snape spitting ‘Potter' at him every time he wanted to address him.

"I'm a little worried, I guess," Harry muttered in response.

"If you don't want to do this, just say the word," Snape said, his intense gaze pinned on Harry. "We can come up with another way to get in there."

Harry was surprised by the sincerity in Snape's tone. Harry looked to Snape, and then to Evelyn. He could see that both of them had lines of worry on their faces. He shook his head.

"I'll do it," he said with conviction. "I just ... I can't really stop myself from worrying that something is going to go wrong."

"Keep your wits about you, and you should be alright," Snape advised. "Besides, you are a Gryffindor. Gryffindors thrive under pressure. Trust your instincts."

Swallowing, Harry nodded his head, walking between Snape and Evelyn. They rounded a corner, and Harry felt his heart hammering up against his chest. A cold, granite faced building stared them down at the end of the street, encased in a tall iron fence. Muggles passed right by it, not even giving it a second glance. Wrought iron letters twisted out the words The Potioneer's Society on the arch over the gates. The gargoyles perched on the very top of the building seemed to be staring Harry down as they neared the gate. Strangely enough, the building had a steeple, although no bell hung in it. It appeared to have been an old cathedral that had had extensive expansions, for the stones that made up the main part of the building were far more worn than other parts. Harry shifted his eyes to survey what he could see of the grounds, which were quite large. He wondered what on earth they had disguised them as so Muggles would not notice the huge building. He didn't have the strength to ask Snape, however, for they were in front of the gates, and nobody on the streets seemed to notice them standing there. Harry wondered if they were already concealed somehow by magic.

Snape pulled the rope on a heavy bell, hung from a hook at the black gates. The bell clap clashed into the metal and the sound reverberated through the air, but nobody on the street turned to look. Nobody else had heard it. After a moment or so, a man appeared on the property, wearing old fashioned looking robes that seemed quite formal. He had come out of the double doors at the front of the building, and he strode down the path toward them, and stopped at the gate, peering at them from behind the bars.

"What is it that you are here for?" he asked Snape when he reached them.

"We have an appointment with Richard White, regarding an apprenticeship," Snape replied, holding up the letter with the signature. The man reached through the iron bars to take the letter, and he studied it for a few moments. He seemed to deem it fit, and he handed it back.

"Very well, come with me," the man said curtly, standing back so the gates could swing open silently on well-oiled hinges.

Harry stepped through them, following Snape. Evelyn stayed close by his side. She put a hand on his shoulder. Harry appreciated this greatly, but found no words to say so. Harry heard the gate shut behind then, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He resisted the urge to turn his head to stare back at the gate. Evelyn's grip on his shoulder tightened. They had gone up the granite steps, and the dark wood doors were before them now. They swung open silently, and the man led them into the dimly lit entrance hall, with sparkling wood floors. The shape of the hall confirmed Harry's suspicions that the building had once been a cathedral, for the size and shape was quite right. At the end of the hall there was a raised space where an altar might once have been, but it was now filled with tables with groups of people huddled around them, shuffling and stacking papers. This was by no means all that was going on in the room. Glancing around, Harry stared in wonder at the bustling scene before him. In some ways the building reminded him of Gringotts as well, without the goblins. Long counters and desks had been scattered along the outer edges of the hall, and wizards were walking brusquely from desk to desk, from room to room, carrying stacks of rolled parchment, racks of potions in phials, piles of books, well used cauldrons, and cages with strange animals. A great chandelier, its candles warped and twisted, threw light on the scene below. The rest of the light came from an enormous round window set high up in the wall above the shining doors that they had come through. The window was made of ornately cut stained glass, which was arranged in the shape of some sort of crest, but Harry was more interested in what the people were doing around him to pay much attention to what image the glass formed. He could have watched the people going back and forth for hours in that vast room, but within moments they were led into a small office off to their right. A carved wooden sign on the door said Office of Apprenticeship upon it.

They were led into it and seated before an old fashioned desk, which was piled with letters. The man who had led them there departed soon, and another man, much older, was sitting in a chair behind the desk.

"Surname?" said the man rather absentmindedly as he shuffled through a drawer.

"Prince," Snape said.

"Ah, here you are," the man said, pulling a slip of paper out immediately. "I am Richard White, as you surely know by now, considering it was I who replied to your letter."

"Jeremiah Prince," Snape said, holding out a hand, which Richard White shook. "This is my wife, Serena, and my son Harold."

"Yes, yes, good to meet you," said Richard with the air of someone who had been introduced to far too many people over the years, and therefore was not all that interested. "Now, when I sent you the letter, I believe I said that Benedict Abbey was looking for an apprentice. Correct?"

"Yes," Snape said.

"I have mixed news, unfortunately. The good news is that we have a spot for your son, and he may start immediately as the person requesting an assistant needs help as soon as possible. The bad news is that Benedict was assigned an apprentice earlier this morning, on account that the young boy's mentor has passed away rather suddenly. Because of this, your son will be assigned to someone else."

"We are open to other options," said Snape. "We will take anyone, so long as Harold has a chance at a good future. We will miss him on the farm, but at least he will get a chance to be something more."

"Well, he's a very lucky boy then," said Richard. "He is very lucky indeed. Gregory Peakes is an excellent mentor, so I am sure your boy will learn a great deal from him. In addition to that, perhaps he will be lucky enough to learn the occasional thing from James McTavish, whose lab is right across from Gregory's. His work is quite revolutionary."

Snape cleared his throat.

"James McTavish?" he said.

"Yes, quite brilliant, I assure you," said Richard cheerfully. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all, I am familiar with the name," said Snape, the moment of panic on his face gone. "News of his work has reached quite distances."

"Is that so?" was the reply. "I was not aware that someone of your business would be familiar with his work."

Evelyn flashed Snape a warning glance.

"Now, in order to apprentice your son, you must sign here," said Gregory. "You can write, I trust?"

Snape said yes, and as he took up the quill he looked at Evelyn, and then Harry, and both gave him an affirmative nod. He lowered the quill into the ink, set it on the parchment and signed the name Jeremiah Prince upon the paper.

"Wonderful," said Richard. "Would you like to meet Gregory? I can arrange for him to come down."

"That won't be necessary," said Snape quickly. "I have no doubt that Harold will learn a great deal from him."

"Alright then. In that case, I'll give you three a few minutes to say goodbye, and then I will take Harold up to get started immediately."

Snape nodded, and Richard gestured to the little room. The three of them went into it and closed the door. Snape waved his wand so that they could not be overheard, and then for a moment they all stood there, each of them displaying signs of nervousness. Evelyn was biting her lip, Snape was tapping his foot with his arms crossed tightly, and Harry was playing with the cuff of his sleeve. He had not been expecting to get a chance to say goodbye.

"You remember what you have to do?" asked Snape after clearing his throat.

"Yes sir," Harry muttered.

"If you run into McTavish, do whatever you can to avoid aggravating him," Evelyn warned. "He's a lot like his brother, so I would suggest you do as much agreeing with him as possible."

"Okay."

Evelyn seemed to be fighting some sort of impulse, and Harry was quite shocked when she pulled him into a hug. He froze slightly.

"Be careful, for goodness sakes," she said, releasing him quickly. "I had no idea you would end up right across from that bastard."

"Potter," Snape said curtly, "while you must be careful, this may be your chance to learn more than we could possibly have hoped about McTavish. Take the opportunities that will give you something we can work with, but do not take foolish, unnecessary risks. Remember, he is a fully qualified wizard, and you are not yet done your first year of magical training."

"Yes sir," replied Harry.

"Good," Snape said, adding a few more thoughts in a low hiss. "This had better work out well, because Albus might kill me otherwise. I wish you luck."

Just then the door opened. As Richard poked his nose around the corner, everyone immediately sought to play up the anxious and grieving family role. Evelyn started to cry quite realistically into her handkerchief, and Harry refrained from jumping as Snape shocked the hell out of him by giving him a fatherly hug. He tried not to let this show on his face.

"Goodbye, Harold," Snape said gruffly.

Richard looked as though the cockles of his heart had just grown warmer.

"Write often!" sobbed Evelyn. "I love you!"

"Love you too Mum," Harry muttered back, attempting to act natural.

"Well, we best be off now," said Richard. "Tight schedule. Come along then, Mr. Prince. "

Then Harry was led out of the room, and he glanced back briefly at Evelyn and Snape. Though Richard was no longer watching, they had not dropped the worried and distraught pretence. As he was led through the busy hall, Harry wondered wildly for a moment just how much of what had happened was acting.

He didn't spend much time thinking of this, however, for he was now focusing on how to get the information he needed in order for all of them to make it out of this alive.

"Come on!" Evelyn hissed anxiously to Severus as they marched toward the Potioneer's Society gate on their way out. "What are you doing?"

Furious, and worried that he was going to give them away, she wondered why on earth he was examining the flowerbed, which had a number of ornately carved stone ornaments. Sure, the flower garden was beautifully kept, but she could not figure out for the life of her why he was paying so much attention to them. For a moment, she saw the flash of a wand in his hand, but it was gone no sooner than she had seen it.

"Quite a lovely arrangement," he said rather loudly. "A nice change from the crops we grow."

"Yes, I am afraid the farm has been looking a little dull as of late," Evelyn replied, hiding her utter confusion quite well as they walked out of the gates, which opened briefly and then clanged shut behind them.

It was only when they had reached the safety of the house that Evelyn rounded on him, all the anxiety and fear from leaving Harry behind finally catching up to her and coming out in her tirade at Severus.

"What the hell was that about?" she spat furiously. "You could have blown the whole bloody operation, and what, for a few pretty flowers? FLOWERS!"

"Evelyn," said Severus calmly, "let me explain. I had an idea, something we should have thought about before. We need to know that our tunnel is on the right course, correct?"

"Yes," she said resentfully.

"Well, I do not think we can trust this to a few quickly done measurements," he said carefully, "so I placed a tracking charm on one of the stones in the flower bed. I can pick up the signal with my wand, and we will know which direction to dig, as well as how far of a distance we need to go."

Evelyn sat down.

"Brilliant!" she said under her breath, all anger gone.

"I'm not such a crackpot after all, hmm?" said Severus, looking rather pleased with himself.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Evelyn said a little sheepishly. "I should have trusted that you had a good reason."

"If I could have explained then and there, I would," he told her. "There is no need to apologize."

"Well, we've lost enough time. Let's eat something for lunch and get digging."

"Indeed," said Severus under his breath. "The sooner we get Potter out of there, the better."

They wasted no more time in getting started, and a while later Evelyn was pacing back and forth in front of the open trap door. Spread across the floor before it was thin old quilt. She was anxious to get some headway on the tunnel, for what with having to pack the necessary things for Harry to take with him if he was apprenticed, and experiment with good excavation spells, they had yet to dig a sufficient depth to start tunnelling forward.

There was a shuffling noise, and a hand reached up out of the blackness. Evelyn took it, and helped pull Severus up into the room. Dirt showered from his clothing and onto the ragged quilt. Severus wiped sweat off his brow, and pulled his arm across his chest to stretch, looking weary.

"Well?"

"The water starts about twenty feet down, so I say we leave it at about fifteen," Severus said matter of factly. "The ground is quite rocky, and a bit soft in some places, but it should hold fairy well."

He was quite a sight, with the dirt streaked all across the clothes that had once been Ellery's, and the smudges of dirt on his face. He continued to tell her about the soil and how they should go about digging the tunnel, but Evelyn could hardly listen. In the end she burst into peals of laughter. It was difficult to take someone seriously when they had so much dirt on their face, and she had not had a reason to laugh in months.

"It is a perfectly sound idea," Severus said, scowling deeply and only making Evelyn laugh harder. "We should have some form of light, and those jars with the flames in them would be perfect. It's not funny in the least."

"I'm sorry Severus," Evelyn gasped. "The light idea is fine, it's just you, you have ..."

And she was laughing again.

"Have what?"

Evelyn took a deep breath, finally starting to regain her senses, "I'm sorry, I'm just so tired it is terribly funny. You have streaks of dirt under your eyes that make your look like some sort of bandit."

"Wow, what a surprise, I just dug twenty feet into the ground. Who would have thought I might have dirt on my face?" Severus said dryly, although he sounded partially amused himself. "Now help me get these buckets of dirt back into the hole. We need to fill it up to the right level, unless we want to go swimming every time we try to go down into the tunnel."

Evelyn agreed and took a deep, calming breath before she stepped onto the dusty and dirty quilt to look down into the hole cut beneath the trapdoor. She peered down into the blackness, her wand illuminating the damp walls of the tunnel shaft. Severus had used magic to dig a wide shaft about fifteen or sixteen feet down into the ground. After that, he had dug a much smaller shaft about a foot in diameter into the ground in order to test where the water was lying at, so they wouldn't have to worry about the tunnel flooding. Previously, she had been helping him by vanishing the buckets of earth he sent up by magic, and then lowering down the empty bucket again for him to fill. It had gone very quickly due to a number of good digging spells. When Severus had begun to dig the smaller shaft in order to figure out how far down they would hit water, Evelyn had started to pile dirt up in the washtub she usually used for bathing so that they might fill the small hole back in.

Severus swung down into the mouth of the hole, his feet firmly planted on one of the pieces of wood they had lodged into the side of the shaft like ladder rungs. He then shuffled down into the darkness, the sound of his boots scraping on the dirty makeshift ladder ringing strangely as he descended.

"Send me down a jar," Severus called up to her.

Evelyn got a jar and held it over the hole before saying, "I'm levitating it down right now."

In the gloom down below, Evelyn saw Severus' pale hand reach up to catch it. There was the clatter of him opening the lid of the jar, and then the swish of his wand. A warm orange glow burst forth, illuminating the damp walls of the shaft, and shining on Severus' dark hair. He set the little jar on one of the ladder rungs, being careful not to put one of his feet in the smaller shaft. Then, he looked up at Evelyn.

"You can start sending down buckets of dirt," he called up to her.

Scuffling and clattering rang through the room as Evelyn filled the bucket with earth from the heaping washtub and sent it gliding down into the shaft of the tunnel with a levitation charm.

She heard a light scraping noise, and then a wet shlop, and so she presumed that Severus had caught the bucket and dumped the earth into the hole. Sure enough, a moment later the bucket glided up, empty for her to fill again. They did this for about five minutes before the little shaft was packed full. Severus emerged once more, shaking the dirt from his clothes again.

"I think I prefer vanishing the earth than putting it back," Severus said distastefully. "It's much quicker. But still, this is going to be quite the job."

Evelyn nodded, brows furrowed with thought. "We can take turns digging, at least. I just wish that there was somewhere we could dig from that would be closer to the Society. Pity we couldn't find an empty building to dig from. I hate how crowded London is. Not a bit of privacy anywhere in this wretched city."

Severus frowned for a moment as Evelyn glanced over at the hole rather morosely. They had discussed all the possible places they could dig before, but this seemed to be the only option.

"I know we can't risk being out in the open and revealing ourselves," began Severus, "but ... what if we posed as gravediggers in a churchyard nearby?"

"Clever, but there are members of the clergy there all the time. I don't think they would appreciate what we were doing." Evelyn sighed slightly. "We'll just have to dig from here as fast as we can."

Severus looked oddly relieved. "I can't say I am not glad for that. I do not wish to disturb the dead," he said, shivering slightly.

"What, are you afraid of ghosts?" Evelyn asked, a little amused.

"Let's keep digging, shall we?"

"If you say so," Evelyn said, surprised by how pale Severus had gone. "Let's start the tunnel going forward then."

And Severus was climbing down into the dark hole again. Evelyn watched him, waiting for the bucket to come soaring up so she could vanish the dirt in it. It made things a lot easier if she did the vanishing, as Severus could dig twice as fast, and vanishing from the bucket was far easier than vanishing the loose soil in the tunnel.

It only took a few minutes for them to begin to set a good pace. Down below Evelyn heard the scraping sound of Severus slicing away chunks of dirt with magic, and then the grating noise of his hands packing the dirt into the empty bucket. When the sound stopped she knew the bucket was coming her way, and as the sounds of Severus cutting way more dirt rose up to her, she was already sending the empty pail back down.

It was not long at all before Severus had gone far enough into the side of the shaft for Evelyn to descend into the dimly lit tunnel too in order to vanish the dirt faster. Now she was handed the bucket instead, and the speed increased. Half way through their digging Evelyn switched to the one cutting away soil, and Severus did the vanishing. They mostly worked in silence. The damp smell of the earth filled Evelyn's nostrils, and the silence that hung in the air when they stopped was deafening. It was hotter down here too, somehow. She didn't really understand why, and after a while she asked if Severus knew. So for the rest of the time they dug, Evelyn scraped away dirt while Severus told her of modern day discoveries- how the earth had a molten rock core, and that the farther down you went, the hotter things were. He told her of many scientific discoveries, of the planets and stars seen since her time, and advancements in healing. Evelyn hung onto his every word, fascinated by everything that could be learned.

Therefore, it was not hard to imagine why her mind was buzzing as Severus held out his hand to help her out of the hole in the floor. Her body was tired, her face streaked with dirt, but her head filled with wonder and questions. How much was there to know? But, seeing that Severus was tired, she kept these questions inside her for another day as she dragged out the washtub, which had since been liberated of dirt and scrubbed with magic.

"Ladies first," Severus said tiredly. "I will start making dinner."

"Thanks," said Evelyn, remembering with delight that Severus could cook fairly well, for she had tried a soup he had made the last time he had been in the past.

She found it strange for a man to offer to cook when there was a woman in the house that could easily do it. The future seemed to be full of so many odd things. She found the differences a little bit unnerving, between now and the time Severus was from, that was. But still, it was refreshing, and as she hung a sheet around the washtub she felt quite content, despite the long day that had been spent digging.

It felt good to get the dirt out from behind her ears, and in her hair. The water was practically black in the washtub. Yet, however nice it was to get clean, Evelyn felt rather strange, bathing with someone else in the house. Ellery had only been with her for about two weeks; she had been in solitude so long she had forgotten what it was like to live in a house with more than herself. This she contemplated as she dressed and combed her hair. The soft, light green dress she had put on looked gorgeous compared to the old, patched and ragged one she had designated for digging. It had gone from light brown to dark brown within the day. She made a mental note to wash it later tonight.

"Your turn," she said to Severus rather shyly, twisting her hair up into a bun behind her head before getting out her smaller, wooden laundry tub to get her digging clothes scrubbing up against the washboard.

After filling the laundry tub and spelling the clothes to scrub themselves, Evelyn prodded the coals in the fire, and threw another piece of wood into the dying flames. Some sort of onion and meat stew was simmering in a pot hung over the fire. It was the last of the food, and she reminded herself that they would have to go to the market some time, after Severus made a few more chairs. She was brought from this thought as the wind rattled the windowpanes. Looking out into the dark night, she wondered how Harry was getting along. Her stomach squirmed at the thought of where he was. Evelyn still couldn't help but wonder if this was a good idea. Hoping for some reassurance that he was alright, she went over to unroll the magical piece of parchment, to see if Harry had managed to record anything to send to them. It was blank.

"Severus?" asked Evelyn.

"What?" he said impatiently behind the curtain after a slight splash.

"Do you think Harry is alright?"

"Has he sent a message yet?"

"No."

Severus took a moment to reply. "Well, we would know if something happened. McTavish has never seen him before, and apprenticeship laws will keep his mentor from doing him any harm."

"I guess you're right."

"Of course I am. Now, if you're done with questions, I have to wash my hair."

Evelyn couldn't help but laugh at the disgruntled tone in his voice.

"You have the weirdest sense of humour," his voice said back as it drifted over to where she was standing.

Day 3 continued

Evelyn and Severus having left, Harry was led through the Potioneer's Society, up staircases and down corridors. The building was surprisingly big, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that it was designed to confuse newcomers or those who were not supposed to be there.

"Now you mustn't feel overwhelmed by all of this," said Richard cheerfully when he glanced back and saw the confused look on Harry's face. "You'll figure out how to get around soon enough."

"This place is so much bigger than my parents' farm," he said in wonder, allowing his anxiety to be heard slightly in his voice, even if his nerves were for different reasons than he stated. "Do you at least have a map I can use for a couple of days?"

"A map? Well ... we haven't got any on hand."

"Oh. It's just, I don't want to bother anyone with asking where to go," he said with his eyes wide. "Everyone looks so busy, and they're all doing such important work, I don't want to make them lose track of it."

"Hmm, you know, I suppose I could draw you out a quick one. I will try to have it sent to your tomorrow morning."

"Oh, thank you so much!" Harry said enthusiastically.

"You are very welcome, Mr. Prince," said Richard with a genuine smile. It was clear he enjoyed his job.

Harry smiled winningly, feeling more Slytherin than Gryffindor, but also relieved that he would be able to get a rough map of the building copied onto the magical parchment and sent to Evelyn and Snape sooner than he had anticipated. His stomach fell briefly to his feet as he contemplated the distance between himself, Evelyn, and Snape. Evelyn's house was really only a few blocks from the Society, but at the moment, it felt like there was an ocean separating them.

"Ah, here we are," said Richard, knocking on a large wooden door. A polished metal sign hung on the stone beside it, which said the name Gregory Peakes upon it.

"Hello?" said a rather short man when the door was opened. He was only about a foot taller than Harry, and had dark blue eyes, which rested behind very old fashioned looking wire glasses. In addition to this, there were a few teeth missing in his smile. He didn't have much for hair, but what little he had left was grey, with a few traces of what must have been a sandy brown once. He had a friendly face, and upon it were many laugh lines, which Harry felt to be a good sign.

"Hello, Gregory," said Richard cheerfully. "This is Harold Prince. He was the boy I spoke to you about. All that is left of the paperwork is for you to put your signature on the apprenticeship form, and he's yours."

"Wonderful," said the man cheerfully. "I could use a hand around here. Come in Mr. Prince. You may take a seat while I sort out the papers with Richard."

"Yes sir," Harry said rather shyly, entering into the small office space and sitting down in a rather stiff chair, with what looked to be horsehair covering the seat and back.

After a few hasty signatures, Richard rolled up the small parchment and left with a cheerful goodbye. When he had left, the man stood back, surveying Harry.

"Now, Mr. Prince," said the man, "first of all, you shall refer to me as Mr. Peakes, or sir, just for the sake of formality. I am your mentor, and you are my student."

"Yes sir," Harry said.

"Good," he said. "Now, I am Gregory Peakes, as you surely have been told. Has Richard told you much of how your apprenticeship is going to work here?"

"A little, but not a lot, sir," Harry said as Gregory took a seat opposite him.

"I'll just skim over it then, to make sure you have a basic understanding at least," he said. "Your first year will be mostly comprised of book work, and a little bit of simple brewing toward the end of the year. It is better if you start with theory, for brewing can be quite dangerous if you do not have a proper understanding. Which leads me to ask, can you read?"

"Yes sir, quite well," Harry assured him.

"Excellent. And you needn't tack on a sir to everything, I'm afraid it could become wearisome to you if you do," he said with a good natured smile and a wave of his hand before ploughing on. "So, as I was saying, much of what you learn during your first year will be from books. I will do demonstrations on certain topics, but you will not get to brew potions of your own for a while. I want to make sure that you fully understand the art of potion making before you begin. Some days you will only do book work for the morning, and during the afternoons you will be assisting me. This does not necessarily mean that you will be helping prepare ingredients. You may end up doing simple tasks such as cleaning, running errands, and getting small things out of the way so that I might focus more on my research. This is how you will earn your keep, and in return for your efforts, I will bestow upon you as much knowledge as I can. It is up to you to be willing to learn it. Although, a willingness to learn shouldn't be too much trouble from what I have gathered. I understand that you are a pretty lucky boy to be here, having come from a farming background." His eyes were twinkling. "Your father spoke very highly of your in that letter he sent."

"He did?" Harry asked, pretending to sound pleased. Snape had obviously had to talk him up a bit to get him in here. Feeling rather glum, he thought to himself that a lot of what Snape had said probably wasn't true.

"Indeed," said Mr. Peakes, eyes still sparkling. "I have no doubt that you can do great things if you put your mind to it. Once upon a time a little farm boy not unlike yourself became apprenticed in this very same institution, and perhaps someday you too will get a chance to research in these fine halls. Would you like that one day?"

"Yes sir," Harry said.

"Work hard, and you will get there," Mr. Peakes assured him with a small smile. He looked upon the clock for a moment, ticking upon a shelf. "It's almost time for lunch, so why don't you come with me and I'll show you around a little bit before we go eat?"

"Yes, please," Harry said eagerly.

***

For the remaining hours in the morning Harry was shown around the main floor of the Potioneer's Society, which he found to be a bustling, busy place. The main floor was mostly comprised of offices that were in charge of the more administrative side of things. There were a few tables along the walls here and there with request forms for some of the more dangerous ingredients. A form from those tables, Mr. Peakes told Harry, was then forwarded to one of the offices, where the attached write-up detailing the ingredient's intended use was evaluated before being approved. These were some of the many precautions taken so that accidents were avoided. Although, there were a great many ingredients that did not need to have forms filed for, and they were kept in the storehouse just off the side of the hall, not far from the tables. Mr. Peakes led Harry into it, and let him look around for a little while. It was a spectacular room, not overly wide or long, but extremely tall. Just looking up, Harry was sure it went up at least three stories. There was a magical lift in the very centre of the room, which rose up so that you could reach the large shelves on all sides of you. Riding the lift up into the storehouse, Mr. Peakes pointed out various ingredients, kept under bell jars or in sealed canisters. There were beetle eyes, frog livers, spider legs and bottles filled with mysterious, shimmering substances.

All through this tour, Harry asked as many questions as he dared, especially when they took a small detour down the staircase that went into the lowest floor of the building, which went partially underground. They passed a vast room where the laundry was done, by house elves, said Mr. Peakes. The sounds of water running and steam hissing could be heard beneath the door as they passed it. A few storage rooms later, they reached a stone staircase beneath an elaborately carved arched doorway. Mr. Peakes said that it led down beneath the building and into the catacombs. According to him, those who died and had once worked at the Potioneer's Society had the right to be buried down in the catacombs. Few refused the chance for a permanent resting place, according to Mr. Peakes. Not many were lucky enough to be buried anywhere other than out in the middle of a field, to be forgotten in a few years.

"Sir, do people go down there much? Into the catacombs I mean?" Harry asked in a hushed voice as they stood at the top of the staircase that led down into them. From what he had seen, this lowest level was quite deserted, and he imagined the catacombs to be that way as well. At least he hoped.

"Sometimes, but usually people do not venture into them often, unless someone whom they have known has been put to rest down there. There is nothing down there to hurt you," said Gregory, clearly trying to sound calming, as he seemed to think Harry was afraid. " Besides, you'll probably only go as far down beneath the main floor of the Society as the laundry room, if you need to drop something off that cannot wait to be collected. And as you've seen, the entrance to the catacombs is a fair ways from there, so you needn't worry.

"Of course, like many boys before you, you may be tempted in time to go down there to explore, but please refrain from doing so. The catacombs are quite extensive, as this building has been here for a good one hundred years despite the fact that the Society has only relocated here during the last twenty. It is a sacred place of rest, and should not be disturbed for such frivolous things as exploring. "

"Yes sir," Harry said, knowing full well he would have to venture into the catacombs to get the layout in order to find a good place for Evelyn and Snape to surface from.

The rest of the main floor was not overly interesting, or all that useful to Harry's purpose for being there. So it was with much relief when he arrived in the dining hall, where lunch was just about to be served. It was not as grand a room as the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and a fair bit smaller despite the fact that the same number of people was packed into it.

"After lunch we shall return to my quarters so that you may begin your studies," Mr. Peakes informed him, much to Harry's disappointment. "Now, apprentices eat separately from their mentors, so you may go and sit -"

"Ah, Gregory!" said a voice nearby.

Mr. Peakes did not look pleased to see the man who spoke. Harry turned to look and see who it was, and he took a step back in alarm. A man with a thin black and grey moustache and dark, slicked back hair stood before them. It was most definitely James McTavish, for he resembled his brother in more than just the eyes. His jaw was similar, and he too had a prominent brow ridge. But it was the coldness that emanated from his voice that made Harry think most of the other McTavish.

"Go sit down with the other apprentices, Mr. Prince," muttered Mr. Peakes, nodding his head toward the table for the young boys.

The tone of his voice made Harry take a step toward it immediately, but James McTavish spoke.

"Come now, Gregory, don't be shy, I would love to be introduced to your new apprentice," he said with a warm smile, but on his face it looked alarming, because his mouth was the only part that smiled. "He will meet me eventually - our labs are across from each other after all. Or have you been too busy all these years to notice?"

A few of the men who were milling about with McTavish gave appreciative chuckles.

"James, this is Harold Prince," began Mr. Peakes with the air of someone who wanted to get something over with quickly. "Mr. Prince, this is James McTavish."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Prince," said McTavish, reaching out to shake Harry's hand.

Knowing that now was the time to be brave, Harry did not hesitate, and kept his grip firm as they shook hands.

"And you, sir," he muttered, trying to refrain from wiping his hand on his robes. He felt contaminated, knowing what kind of person he had just exchanged greetings with.

"I think he will do," said McTavish, attention on Mr. Peakes again. "Shame what happened to the last boy you had, eh?"

It was a very clear warning, and with the bustle of the people dishing up for lunch, McTavish did not try to disguise it.

"Mr. Prince, why don't you go join the other boys?" said Mr. Peaks in careful tone that Harry knew meant he was not to object.

"Yes sir," said Harry hastily, leaving Mr. Peakes and McTavish's gang to go to the apprentice's table. A few steps away, however, Harry bent down to tie his shoelace, which he had purposefully stepped on to untie a moment earlier.

"You stay away from this boy, McTavish. You know where I stand. Just because I cannot prove what you did does not mean I have forgotten it!"

"I don't know what you are talking about, Peakes," McTavish said, dismissing him coolly.

Getting up quickly, Harry did not pause to look back on his way to the apprentices' table. None of the other boys paid much attention to him, and they continued to eat and talk rowdily. Harry filled his plate, and picked up his fork. He looked away from other boys, briefly directing his gaze across the hall. He caught sight of McTavish, who was talking with his friends. Harry looked away quickly.

"Shame what happened to the last boy you had, eh?"

McTavish's words rang through Harry's head, and without taking a bite of food, he set down his fork, swallowing thickly. He was glad the other boys did not notice him. He was sure he was pale as a ghost, for the true danger of his situation had started to sink in, and panic welled up inside him. What was he going to do? What if McTavish did to him what he had done to whoever the last boy was? For a second, Harry closed his eyes tightly. He counted down slowly from ten, calming his breathing. He opened his eyes again, trying to think of what Snape would do if he was here. Heart beating fast, he tried desperately to conjure an answer.

After a few minutes, an answer came. There was only one thing to do. Snape did not run from danger. He had not done so when they were back in time in 1612, and he had yet to this time, so neither would Harry. He would stay, and do his job, because if he didn't get the inside story on the Potioneer's Society, nobody would.

Taking one last deep breath, Harry picked up his fork again. He started to eat, though the food was ash in his mouth.

Day 4

"Severus, come up," called Evelyn, bending over the hole in the ground. She heard a faint reply, some scuffling and the soft scrabble of loose dirt.

In roughly five minutes, Severus emerged from the tunnel, streaked in dirt and dripping with sweat. He was quite a mess, but Evelyn didn't mind much at all that he was getting dirt all over the floor. She had been getting as much dirt into the house as he had been, and after a day and a bit of digging, she had accepted the fact that things would only get grungier as they went on.

"How many feet is it?" Evelyn asked anxiously, for Severus had gone down with the purpose of measuring the length they had dug in the two days they had been tunnelling. They were planning on measuring it after they dug every day. She hoped that their magical methods were paying off, because she knew very well that they needed to dig a great deal more yet.

"About a hundred and eighty," said Severus, wiping his brow. "But we hardly had time to dig any yesterday, and once we have sharpened some of our spell casting - I admit I have done very little in the area of excavation charms - I daresay we might be able to dig a bit more than a hundred and fifteen feet in a solid day of digging. If we can dig one hundred and fifteen feet for the next nine days we should have a solid day before that potion is ready, which should give us enough time to break in, assuming we have planned appropriately. Of course, we're going to have to reinforce the tunnel all the way, which will take time. Some of the soil is loose in places. It is ambitious, I will admit, but I think it is attainable given the spells we have at our disposal." At that moment Severus glanced toward the window, which had its shutters drawn. Although they were drawn, there was no light seeping through the cracks in the wood. "Is it night already?" he wondered aloud, sounding surprised.

"Yes, and we have news from Harry," said Evelyn, gesturing to the parchment, which had only recently filled with scribbles and diagrams.

"Let's see it then," said Severus breathlessly as he and Evelyn clamoured to sit in the chairs at the table.

"You read it, you're closest to the candle," Evelyn replied.

Severus cleared his throat and began to read aloud. "I'm well. McTavish's lab is right across from my mentor's. I haven't many details on McTavish yet, but I should have more soon. I'll send word later on that.

"I was able to look around during the morning, but had to spend the whole afternoon of my first day, and nearly all of the second, reading and taking notes. So, I do not know as much right now as I would like. But, I think I have found a good place for you two to surface: the catacombs beneath the Potioneer's Society. I haven't had a chance to go down into them, but from what my mentor said, very few people go down there, which might make it the best place to tunnel to. I was able to convince Richard that, being a farm-boy, I was not used to big places so I needed a map. He had a simple one sent to me this morning, and I have copied it below my message. I filled in the blanks in certain areas. I also included a little x to mark my location, and big x to mark McTavish's. The floors are labelled. Send me any questions or things you must know, and I'll try to answer them as best as I can.

"All the best, Harry."

"Let's copy that map immediately," said Evelyn.

Severus tapped the parchment, and a duplicate of the letter appeared right next to it. He pushed aside the original, enchanted parchment, and Evelyn joined him to study the copy.

"Harry's on the third floor," Severus said thoughtfully, scratching his lightly stubbled chin. "There's McTavish's lab. I doubt we'll get any more for information about its interior. "

"I am betting that all the labs are built nearly the same," Evelyn replied, also poring over the map. "We can ask Harry to describe his mentor's lab and quarters, and hopefully they will be similar to McTavish's."

"Yes, I think that is the best way to go. We must ask him to look around the catacombs as well; otherwise we will be digging blindly."

"But how are we going to know where we are underground once we get near enough to surface? It isn't as though you can march into the Potioneer's Society and do another one of your tracking spells down in the catacombs."

"You are right. However, while Harry won't be able to perform the spell, Harry can plant an object with the spell upon it already. I will perform the spell in advance, and I can detect that one as well as the one I placed earlier in the flower beds if I make sure to change the signature slightly. That way we will be able to use both of the signals to line ourselves up properly, and then dig up when we hit the second."

"Brilliant," said Evelyn. "But how are we going to get the object to Harry?"

Snape frowned. "Well, they probably screen the mail ... so we cannot send it by mail, and you said yourself you cannot get through the wards with your animagus form. But there's bound to be some way to get it to him. Luckily, we have time to consider that, with the first tracking charm already in place. We can take our time in placing the second."

Severus and Evelyn fell silent for a while and continued to pore over the map.

"The floors have relatively the same design, and one main staircase that goes up to all of them," muttered Severus after a few minutes. "That could be problematic, as it is more likely for us to meet someone on the way. We will have to use disillusionment charms for sure. There does not appear to be a map of the lowest level. But Harry has written that it comes up here," - Severus tapped a quill onto the map, to a small doorway just off the entrance hall where Harry's messy writing could be found - "which means that we will have to go all the way across the entrance hall to get to the staircase. We should ask Harry to go down to that level to explore if he can, just so we have a rough idea of the dangers. There are probably servants quarters down there, although likely, all of them are house elves."

"I think Harry is right in saying that the catacombs are the best place for us to tunnel to. There will likely be few people. The house elves might pose a problem ... but they may not be aware that we are breaking in, I mean, there are enough people in that building to make it a little bit hard to keep track of all of them. If we act normally, they should hopefully think we belong at the Potioneer's Society."

"That sounds reasonable. And, I think it would be best for us to infiltrate during the night," Severus suggested curtly. "While we will have to worry about house-elves, I think the advantages outweigh the disadvantages. The crowds during the day can be advantageous for blending in, but in this case, I daresay many of the men have been there long enough to know that we should not be there. And McTavish is bound to have people tipping him off. In the night-time, while the Potioneer's Society have a large amount of security ensuring that nothing gets in from the outside, I do not believe that they have a lot of people patrolling from within. I think that is another thing we must ask Harry about. Perhaps he can sneak out at night and see."

"We'll have more time to plan that later. I'll write back to Harry to tell him to explore the catacombs for us. I don't think we should mention the tracking device just yet, if we have no solid plan of getting it there. I don't think Harry should know what he does not need to right now. I think it would be best for him to explore the catacombs before we give him anything to place down there. There may not even be somewhere we can easily surface."

"I think that is a good plan," said Severus. "Shall we shut the trap for the night?"

"I think so," said Evelyn, clearing the magical parchment with a wave of her wand and starting to write their message back to Harry.

Severus left and returned to the table with two cups of water and a plate with some bread and cheese on it. Evelyn had sent back their message, and the two ate the bread thoughtfully.

"What are we planning to do with McTavish?" asked Severus softly after a few moments. "And what about the others that know about his potion? We can destroy the potion, but in order to succeed, there must be no trace of the recipe, knowledge or otherwise."

Evelyn sighed heavily. "I don't know what to do yet. I am pretty sure that the only people who know about the potion were present at the meetings I eavesdropped on, and in that case, there are three besides McTavish. But, I don't think memory charms are going to be strong enough."

"That is the trouble, I do not think so either," Severus said, swallowing.

"That's more people than I want to silence," whispered Evelyn, voice shaking.

"I know," was the almost inaudible reply.

***

Day 5

Morning came early for Evelyn and Severus. They rose with the sun, and Evelyn decided that she was to be the first one digging, and Severus would do the vanishing, as well as the reinforcements on the tunnel walls. After a cup of tea and a slice of bread for each of them, they prepared to descend.

"Ready, Evelyn?" asked Severus, pulling the trapdoor open.

"I am," she replied. She was dressed yet again in an old, simple dress for digging. Severus wore the peasant-like clothes that Ellery used to own.

Severus held out his hand, and Evelyn took it. He steadied her as she stepped down into the darkness and began her way down the makeshift ladder. They had sent the little jar with flames down first, and when the flame continued to burn they determined it safe to descend. As she went down, Evelyn watched the hole above her grow smaller until her feet hit the ground.

"How are the ventilation charms holding up?" Severus called down to her.

"Just fine," she said. "There's a good breeze and the flame is still doing fine."

"Good. I'm coming down now."

Evelyn crouched over and stepped back into the tunnel as the grating sounds of Severus' boots descending on the gritty ladder rungs sounded. In a few moments he was with her, bent over double and with the bucket in hand he followed her down the narrow tunnel. She lit the little jars as she went, lighting the tunnel. They had decided to create magical replicas of the jar upstairs and had sunk them into the tunnel walls, between the wooden boards that had been used for reinforcements. The jar they took with them would be used when they were digging too far for the installed lights to be off much use.

When they reached the end of the tunnel, Evelyn started to use her wand to carve their way forward, and she filled the bucket time and time again with dirt for Severus to vanish. It was quite warm in the tunnel, considering, and damp. She quickly worked up a sweat, and behind her she could hear Severus panting. She turned around a few times to see how the shoring of the tunnel walls was coming. In the moments when they deemed it fit to reinforce Evelyn vanished the dirt herself, and Severus would wave his wand, and swirl it in the air until wooden boards appeared, and with a quick spell he would hammer them into place above, along the sides and below. The tunnel was filled with these little boxes. Evelyn hoped that they would hold well, for she too felt that the earth was soft in places.

They dug for a very long time, switching jobs every so often, occasionally working together to pull a stubborn stone out of place. It was a bit difficult for them to switch places in the tunnel to change jobs, what with how narrow it was. In order to turn around in the tunnel they had to lie on their bellies, roll onto their backs and get to their feet, still bent double. Then, to allow the other person to dig, they would have to crawl over the other person lying on their belly, and do the same process to face the digging end of the tunnel again. All of this: the digging, the switching places, and the shoring of the walls was a dirty process, and by the time they took a break for lunch Evelyn felt like she would never be clean again. There was grit under her fingernails, and in her shoes and behind her ears. Especially in her hair. The sweat and grime streaked her face, and Severus' too. They were quite a sight, panting tiredly at the table as they wolfed down the last of the bread and cheese.

"I'll definitely have to trade some more chairs tonight," Severus said after a while as they both sat and drank some water. "I would have done so earlier, but I hate to take so much time to go to the market when we should be digging."

"I know, but we need food to dig, and if we aren't hungry, we can dig faster," Evelyn replied. "See if you can get some meat and some potatoes. The potatoes will last for a while at least."

They sat in silence for some time. Evelyn felt too tired to speak, and she was sure Severus felt the same way.

Then they returned to the tunnel and Evelyn, with the help of Severus, dug as though her life depended on it. But then again, in many ways, it did. All their lives depended on it.

It was sundown when Severus returned from trading the chairs. Evelyn had had to shut the trap when he left, for they agreed that they would never go into the tunnel without the other, just in case there was a cave-in. There had already been times when chunks of earth had come down from above, and if any one of them was knocked out in the tunnel without the other person there to get them out, there would be very little hope if a significant amount of earth had come down. So, Evelyn had used her free time from digging to get washed up. She left the washtub out for Severus, sure he too would like to get the layers of grime off of him. He had washed his face up to go and trade the chairs, but there was no denying that he was still quite thoroughly covered in dirt.

"Did you get a good price?" she inquired when he came through the door to find her in the midst of putting another log on the fire in preparation for cooking.

"I did," said Severus, pleased as he held up the packages. He laid them on the table, and Evelyn inspected them. There was some salt pork, enough potatoes to last them a while, and another loaf of bread. There were even a few coins left over to get some more fresh bread from the little stall close by.

"Why don't you wash up while I start cooking?" Evelyn said. "I managed to find Ellery's old shaving kit. I imagine the dirt is getting hard to clean out of that stubble of yours."

"Have I told you how wonderful you are?" said Severus absent mindedly, looking highly pleased as Evelyn handed him the old fashioned shaving kit.

"I don't believe you have," said Evelyn, rather pleased as she sliced potatoes. Her eyes skimmed the little stack of purchases on the table. "Hang on, what's this?"

"Hmm?" asked Severus, presumably still daydreaming of being clean shaven.

"The bottle," said Evelyn, rolling her eyes.

"Someone was selling wine, and I must say, it looked quite good," said Severus rather off-handedly. "The chairs went for a great price, so I got us a bottle. We have been working too hard. I hope you do not mind."

"I don't mind in the least. In fact, you had better hurry up so we can drink it," Evelyn said cheerfully.

"Well, don't get too ahead of yourself. We should at least eat first, or it will go straight to our heads," said Severus with a slight air of humour as he filled the washtub and hung the old sheet up around it. "You would not want me around drunk, I am horribly morose." He grimaced, the expression of his face to Evelyn rather comical, and the pained tone in his voice was even more so. "I start talking about my feelings."

"Rather that than how I act. I start fighting," Evelyn said a little hesitantly, unsure as to what he would think of that.

"Do you really?" inquired Severus, disbelieving.

"I do ... unfortunately. I knocked someone's front teeth out in a pub brawl once," she said, cringing. "I'm afraid it wasn't ladylike at all. I generally avoid drinking more than I should now."

"Remind me to stay out of punching distance," he said with a chuckle before going behind the curtain. Evelyn smiled a little at this.

Soon the little home was filled with the smells of dinner. Evelyn could hardly wait for it to be ready, and it seemed forever before she had her plate before her, and a glass of wine. She had conjured two goblets from the air for them. They tucked into their meal heartily, and when they were finished eating, they simply sat and enjoyed the silence for a while, sipping their wine. It was very good, thought Evelyn. But then again, she hadn't had a glass of wine in over a year.

"I can't believe that I was able to get you two back here again," said Evelyn after a long time. "I hadn't even known in the first place that you had travelled back in time to help us. Ellery didn't tell me until we found out what McTavish's potion did. He knew you could help. I didn't believe him at first. I don't think I really did fully believe him until you showed up."

"How did you manage to get the box where I would find it?" asked Severus curiously, staring into his goblet of wine. "It practically fell on my head."

Evelyn smiled a little. "Well, Ellery had sent the first device to Hogwarts with someone who was fleeing to Hogsmeade village, as he thought that because Hogwarts has such large population of witches and wizards moving through it someone would eventually be found to come back and save us from the witch hunt. He had thought that that must have been where you two were from, given your clothing and you being a professor. So we had to find a way to get the second device there. We charmed the box until it was light enough for me to carry to Hogwarts in my animagus form. I flew there shortly before Ellery died, and asked the gamekeeper where the house elves lived. Generations of them can live in large castles like that, all working there, so they were ideal for ensuring that the box stayed in the castle. Ellery had suggested that, as he thought that it was our best bet to give it to them. I found the house elves, and told them to pass the box down, and find a way to get it to you some time after you returned from the first trip here."

Evelyn let out a heavy breath, eyes downcast.

"When I arrived home Ellery and I simply acted like the plan was going to work, and though neither of us spoke of it, we didn't think it would. We really didn't. I hadn't a shred of hope left when you and Harry showed up on my doorstep. I'm still amazed it worked, really."

"It confuses me, time travelling," said Severus thoughtfully after a few moments. "It is such a strange thing to think about. I am glad that we have a more reliable method of getting back this time."

"Yes, you were lucky last time. Ellery mixed the powder for your return in with the powder the brought you back in time, and the return magic was supposed to activate when you had done your job, help us, that is. Of course, it was a little bit delayed, I think. I really don't know how he did it."

"Fate was on our side, that is certain," Severus said, his voice low. "Harry almost died. He ... he should have died, but somehow he held on."

"It really is a wonder none of us were killed," said Evelyn. "I still dream about that day, watching you two thunder off into the trees. I always wished we could say a proper goodbye."

"As did I."

They were quiet for a moment, and Severus poured a little more wine into their goblets. The moon was shining outside, high up in the sky. But Evelyn did not care, and neither did Severus.

"Well, goodbye then," said Severus, grinning suddenly. "There. That's better."

Evelyn laughed, a little surprised at his sudden humour. "Goodbye Severus."

Both laughed this time. Perhaps it was the wine. Evelyn didn't understand why she was laughing when she knew very well that their lives hung in such a fragile balance. If they failed in their mission, and were caught, they faced death. Yet, somehow, she wasn't as scared as she should have been.

She rested her chin in her hands, her elbows on the table.

"Do you think we can actually pull this off?" asked Evelyn, eyebrows furrowed. "We're trying to break into the building with the best security that magic can create right now. We've sent an eleven year old boy to spy for us, and we've been digging like a bunch of badgers in the hopes that we'll reach the Potioneer's Society before the potion is done. Do we even stand a chance?"

Severus met Evelyn's gaze.

"No," he muttered truthfully. "We don't. But that does not mean we should not try, does it? I have been beaten at almost everything in my life before I even crossed the starting line, but that did not mean that I stopped running. Our task is daunting, but perhaps it will work out alright."

"I'm almost afraid of when all of this is over. If we succeed, we'll have to part ways anyway. I don't want to have to say goodbye again."

"Who says you have to," said Severus, leaning forward with sudden intensity, his dark eyes deep and thoughtful as he surveyed Evelyn.

"What, come back with you?" she asked, barely believing her ears.

"Why not?"

"I - I wouldn't fit in, it would all be so different," Evelyn muttered, but deep down her heart wanted nothing more than to leave the world she knew. She was tired of it. Tired of not being seen, of being looked down on. Anywhere was better than here, where she could work as hard as she physically could, and still have nothing to show for it. But she did not say these things, for a part of her was afraid that it would all go wrong, and she would never get the chance to go back. So she did not say these things. "I do not know if I could."

Severus seemed to be teetering on the edge of saying something, but after a minute or so, he seemed to deflate.

"We should get some rest," said Evelyn finally, fatigue creeping up on her senses.

"Yes ... you are right," muttered Severus, eyes downcast.

Day 6

Harry's eyes were terribly tired from reading books on potions for hours on end, for like yesterday, Mr. Peakes had kept him working hard for much of the day. He hadn't absorbed a bit of it, but this did not matter to him. There had been only one thing in his mind all day, and the time had arrived for him to complete the task he had been set by Snape and Evelyn. His mentor's snores had been audible for quite some time, so Harry reached for his shoes and pulled them on, mentally preparing himself for the trip into the catacombs. He took the quill up on his desk, and he scribbled that he was now going to go down to the catacombs before tapping it with his wand. Snape had written a quick note earlier that said he wanted to know when he was planning on sneaking out to explore the catacombs, in case something went wrong and they had to come and find him. Although, how they planned on doing that, Harry did not know. This only reinforced his determination to get this right.

"Good luck Potter," wrote Snape in a moment or two.

Harry paused, suddenly terrified at where he was going. His mind told him to go, but his hand seemed to be searching for a reason to stall as it crawled across the page fervently.

"There will be dead people down there, right?" he wrote, phrasing the question he knew was stupid, but he felt he needed to ask to prepare himself.

"Yes, but they cannot hurt you. You will likely see some unpleasant sights, but this must be done. I am sorry I cannot do it myself instead."

He was surprised at Snape's words. They were oddly comforting to Harry, but he had not much time to dwell on what had been said, for Snape had written back with more.

"Do you have something to mark your way down there like I told you to?"

"Yes sir," Harry wrote back. "I have little bits of parchment to drop along the way."

"Good, but be careful not to begin the trail until you are a little ways in, or someone may follow you. Pick them up as you make your way out, or somebody will know you were there. Do not light your lantern until you are close to the catacombs either. In fact, wait as long as possible to light it. The candle brackets should be lit by the servant's quarters, and watch out for house elves when you do light it (they're short little creatures with big batty ears, and they wear tea towels). When you've lit the lantern make sure the shutter on your lantern is pulled down as far as you can allow. "

"Yes sir." Harry picked up the small lantern and pulled the shutters on it so that only a tiny bit of light would escape when he lit it.

"Enough advice from me. I would suggest you get going."

"I will. Thank you for the help sir."

"Did you really think I would let an eleven year old Gryffindor just go charging down to the catacombs without a plan? You are welcome for the help; I trust you probably needed it. Write back as soon as you can. I have the parchment charmed so I can hear when you respond."

Harry smiled slightly, and left his last reply.

"Yeah, I did need the advice. Bye then. I promise I'll write as soon as I'm back."

With butterflies in his stomach, Harry carefully lifted the lantern and crept from his room, down the hall and to the front door. Thanking the fact that the hinges did not squeak, Harry tiptoed out into the corridor. It was chilly, and very dark. He wished he could light his lantern sooner, for none of the candle brackets were lit, which was not surprising considering it was one in the morning. Hoping that there were no insomniacs in the building, Harry started forward down the corridor, one hand holding the unlit lantern, the other on the stone wall to keep himself going in the right direction. He descended staircase after staircase in the darkness, meeting nobody in his path, much to his relief.

He was glad for the fact that each floor had nearly the same layout, which meant that he had memorized the map quickly, and it only took him fifteen careful minutes to reach the deserted entrance hall and go down the little staircase to the lower level where the house elves worked. It too was deserted. Quietly, he slipped down the hallway, although this one was lit. Up ahead he saw the door to the laundry room, which was open. The corridor was damp and hot as steam poured from the open door. Knowing that he had little time to get past the door, for a house elf was bound to come out eventually, Harry ploughed on. Hopefully the steam would be too thick for them to see out of the room properly. He reached the door frame, and quickly took a glance around it. The little shadows of the elves, scrubbing and washing could be seen in the gloom. He was intrigued greatly by this, having never seen a house elf before, but knew now as not the time to linger. Seeing as the house elves all seemed busy, Harry darted in front of the door and to the other side. He wasted no time in getting as far from the door as possible.

Further and further Harry travelled, until at long last he reached the low arching doorway into to the catacombs. He stared down into the darkness. The air from the corridor was being pulled down into its depths, pulling Harry's hair forward slightly. He turned around, and hurried to the nearest candle bracket. Hastily, he pulled one of the tapers loose from it, the soft noise of it sliding from the metal sounding like thunder to him. Harry lowered it into the lantern, and waited for the flame to catch. The stub of a candle in the lantern flickered to life, and he replaced the one he had used to light it. Then, he faced the blackness again, this time the stony steps illuminated by his lantern. He took a deep breath, and plunged into the darkness, thinking of Snape and Evelyn, and how much they needed him right now.

The steps did not go down too far, and ended at a small doorway. Harry wrenched it open, and the hinges squeaked just loudly enough to make Harry cringe. He waited, wondering if anybody had heard. When no footsteps sounded, Harry slid through the opening. It was lucky he was not overly tall, for the catacomb tunnels were only a foot or so above Harry's head. Knowing it had to be done, Harry gritted his teeth and shut the door, the darkness growing dense around him with the only light coming from his lantern. He fought the panic rising inside him, glad he had never been claustrophobic.

Taking deep, slow breaths of the musty, stale air, he plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small strip of parchment. He dropped this on the floor near the wall, and began to travel down the tunnel. The walls remained smooth as he ventured forward for a minute or two, but after going down two roughly cut steps in the earth he saw the first hole carved into the tunnel wall. It was large enough for someone to lie in. Harry shut his eyes tightly until he had passed it, but soon, as he wound around corners, dropping pieces of paper, he could not afford to close his eyes every time he saw the resting place of one of the dead. On either side of him, crammed together, were more holes in the walls. The dim light from his lantern illuminated the wrapped bodies, surely skeletons by now. Although, by the smell as he travelled further into the tunnel, Harry had the feeling that they dug as they went, and that the newly dead were stored in the farthest reaches of the catacombs.

So far, Harry had yet to see a little crevice or an out of the way spot that Evelyn and Snape could safely surface from. Despite the fact that they twisted and turned, the catacombs had not diverged at all, meaning that in order to get to the end, everyone would travel the same direction. He had to make sure that it would not be a spot easily discovered. Just when he was wondering if he would ever find a spot, the tunnels forked, and Harry chose the path to the right. It was a smaller tunnel, and so he hoped it would be less travelled. After a minute or two, he emerged in what seemed to be a roughly carved room. There were many crevices on the walls, but they only seemed to be half filled. The smell was awful, even worse than it had been in the main tunnel. Harry gagged and put his robe up to his mouth, eyes watering. Glancing behind him as he fought the chills in his spine, he turned up the lantern just a little to illuminate the moist walls. Dark patches riddled the sides of the room, showing where the holes were dug. Harry's heart started to race when he saw that the holes were only half the size of most of the others in the main tunnels. As he looked up at the rows upon rows of indents he saw wrapped bodies lying within them. One looked very recent, for the cloth was still a snow white. Then it hit him why the holes were smaller. These were children. He was too terrified to even count how many were there, and allow himself to contemplate just what this meant. While some of the bodies had decayed, and had clearly been there for years and years, there were a handful that were newer, within the last few months at least.

Harry took a step back in fear. He knew this was the closest place that Evelyn and Snape could surface, for it was the most out of the way, the least travelled path despite the new additions to the room. Fighting back the urge to throw up, Harry backed out of the room, and he started to run back. He skidded to a halt after a few steps, however, catching sight of one of his little pieces of parchment. He forced himself to slow down despite the fact that his pounding heart was about to explode, and he picked up each piece as he went, trying to fight the fear that had clawed its way into his stomach.

Why had those kids died? What killed them? Was it an outbreak of some disease, or was it something worse? In a daze, Harry climbed out of the stinking catacombs and into the corridor. Fresh air met his lungs, and he almost let out a sob of relief. Despite the fact that he was still terrified, he blew out the lantern, remembering what Snape had said. By some miracle, he managed to make it up the staircases and back to the corridor where Mr. Peakes' lab was. He crept along, keeping his fingers on the stone as he went through the pitch blackness, his hands brushing along tapestries. He shivered when a breeze rippled out from behind one. It must have been concealing some sort of passage way. Like Hogwarts, the Potioneer's Society had a fair few secret passages, but Harry had yet to figure them all out. He made a mental note of this one, and continued his way along the corridor.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, coming up the stairs. On instinct, he doubled back a few steps and groped the walls, looking for the tapestry from where the breeze was emanating from. The faint light from a lantern was starting to glow upon the walls by the staircase when Harry slid into the secret passage. He stood there in the pitch blackness, not knowing what was behind him, or who was outside with the lantern. It sounded as though there were more than one person. Harry peered through a tiny rip in the tapestry, and saw the lantern bob past, but he did not quite make out who it was.

He then covered his mouth, sure his breathing would give him away when he heard McTavish speaking down the corridor. The group had stopped, and he could only assume that they were at the door to McTavish's lab.

"What do you think of Peakes' new apprentice?" muttered McTavish to whoever he was with, sounding confident that nobody would be listening at two-o-clock in the morning.

The other person spoke, his voice low and smooth.

"He seems fairly ordinary," said the man. "I do not think he will be as nosy as the last."

"For the boy's sake," said McTavish as the sound of a lock opening floated down the corridor, "I hope so. I would prefer not to have to do another cover-up. But just in case, Geoffrey, if you find him out wandering when he shouldn't be, make sure to tell me. Pity Peakes always insists on having apprentices. Children are such a liability."

"I will inform you if the boy gets out of hand," said Geoffrey. "Have a good night."

"And you as well," came the quiet reply as the sound of the door shutting met Harry's ears. One pair of footsteps passed the tapestry and went down the stairs. Harry waited a good fifteen minutes before opening the tapestry a crack and peering out, just to be sure McTavish was not waiting for him or listening at his door. Eyes met with nothing, he tiptoed past McTavish's lab, and to the end of the corridor to Mr. Peakes' door. He opened it carefully, and thanking the well-oiled door, he shut it silently.

Harry reached his bed, and lay down on it for a few moments, digesting all that he had heard and seen. They did not suspect him yet, but all that had happened tonight did little to decrease the fears swirling in his gut. Knowing that Snape would be waiting with the parchment nearby, Harry grabbed the paper. He was glad he had something to do, knowing he would not sleep well. By the light of the dim, flickering candle he kept in his room, he began his message.

"Professor Snape, I'm back," Harry wrote before tapping his wand upon the parchment to send the message. He scratched his nose, waiting to see the all too familiar spidery handwriting of Snape's. In a minute or two, the response appeared on the page. Harry read it, feeling glad to have contact with living people after seeing so many who were dead within the catacombs.

"Good," was Snape's reply. "What are the catacombs like?"

"Not as much of a maze as I thought they would be," Harry wrote back. "It is actually a straight line for a long ways, like they dug the holes as they needed them or something."

"Hmm, that is different than I suspected. Does it still look like a good place to surface?"

"Yeah, I guess," said Harry hesitantly. "I mean, I didn't go all the way to the end. Who knows how long they could have gone on? But I went straight until I found a path that went off to the side that led into a chamber. It was the first room of its kind, but it was so far along I doubt people would be coming down there often, or even notice a hole in the ground once they were in there, especially if you disguised it a little. It would be pretty easy for you guys to get out as well. It would probably take you twenty minutes at the most to get out of there and into the building. I took longer because I was looking around."

"That sounds quite good," said Snape. "But what did you mean by saying that you ‘guess' that it's a good place to surface?"

Harry frowned, rubbing his eyes, trying to get the image of what he had seen in that earthen room.

"Are you alright? Did you see something down there that frightened you?"

He gaped at the paper for a moment, staring at the new message. Snape was worried about him. But what could Harry say - that he saw what happened to all of the apprentices? That he knew why there were so few applicants to the Potioneer's Society for apprenticeships? How could he put that in words? Besides, he could take it. He had dealt with fear his whole life, and people being out to get him.

"What happened, Harry?" wrote Snape after Harry did not respond for a moment. "If you need me to come and get you, I will. You can sneak off the grounds while it is still dark and through the bars in the gate, and I will bring you home, really. I will come and get you right now if something happened. You have already given us invaluable information, and we can figure the rest out as we go."

Harry let out a shuddering breath, and covered his mouth so no sound escaped. Roughly wiping the tears from his eyes with his free hand, he took his hand off his mouth and began to write back. He knew that he could not tell Snape. He was sure he could find more information ... that he could do better than he already had. They still did not know one hundred percent who was in on McTavish's plan. Surely Harry could figure out who McTavish was close to, even by just observing him during meals. So, with a shaking hand, he began to write back.

"No, everything is fine," he wrote, glad Snape couldn't see the terror in his eyes, or the tears sliding down his cheeks. "Nothing happened that was unusual. I mean, the catacombs were kind of scary, with all the dead people, but I'm okay. I'm just tired. You don't need to come get me. I'm going to pay attention to McTavish during meals to see who he gets along well with. Then I'll describe them to you so we can at least know who he is on good terms with. You said we had to know who was in on his plan, didn't you? Besides, I can't do digging charms. I'd just be in your way. And it would be dangerous for me to try to sneak off of the Potioneer's Society grounds. It's probably better for me to lie low here until the tunnel reaches here, then we can all get out together."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Tell me if you change your mind. You can say so at any time, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know. It will be okay. I promise."

"Alright."

Snape's message disappeared, and in a few moments, a new one appeared, continuing what he was saying.

"Until we arrive, you must be very careful. Do as you are told, and do not make any more trips in the middle of the night. As well as that, exercise utmost caution in your observations of McTavish and his associates."

"I will."

"Is that all for now?"

Harry frowned, not wanting to say goodnight, for he knew he would not sleep a wink. But he did not want Snape to think him a coward.

"Yes."

"Goodnight, then. Do not forget to roll up the parchment and hide it."

"I won't. Goodnight, sir."

And Snape did not write back, so Harry rolled up the parchment and stowed it beneath his bed. He lay back on his bed, leaving the candle flickering for a little while. It cast shadows in the corners of the room, and Harry kept thinking that he was seeing things in the shadows. So he blew out the candle, and he pulled the covers up over his head like he used to do in his cupboard during thunderstorms. He felt ashamed when he thought it, but more than ever he wished Snape was coming to get him that night.

Day 6

Evelyn took a gulp of tea, trying desperately to wake up. Across from her, Severus too was trying not to fall back asleep. It was six in the morning, the time they had been rising for digging for the past few days. Evelyn could feel the tension in her back from stress and digging, and it only increased as she glanced at Severus, wondering why he looked as though he hadn't slept a wink. Evelyn knew that he had had to get up in the night to write back to Harry when he returned, but surely he had gotten some sleep after that? Dark shadows were beneath Severus's eyes, and he looked paler than ever. He seemed to notice her staring, and so he spoke, clearly working himself up to voicing something that had been bothering him for some time.

"Evelyn?" he asked quietly, voice scratchy from the early morning.

"Yes?" she muttered, giving him a small smile and trying to guess what he was going to say. This seemed to encourage him.

"Besides McTavish, do you know who is involved in the potion? You did say you do, correct?"

"Yes, I think that the ones that were at his little meetings were probably the only ones that knew about it," Evelyn said, wondering where Severus was going with this. She was also rather puzzled by the small amount of panic evident in his eyes. "At least, that was how it sounded when I was eavesdropping on him when he left the Society for his meetings. I know what they look like, and their names, if that's what you mean."

"So, it is not imperative that Harry tries to figure out who McTavish has been associating with?"

"No, I think we know as well as we can who has been told of the potion, and even if we are missing someone, when we've cornered McTavish we can figure it out if we are. There are plenty of means to find out information, even if they aren't all very ... very nice."

Evelyn didn't like thinking about what they might have to do to get that kind of knowledge out of McTavish.

"Why do you ask?" she continued.

"I want to go get Harry, immediately," said Severus in a rush of words. "Tonight, in fact. He can sneak out one last time, and I will wait for him at the gates."

"Why? Is something wrong?" Evelyn asked, suddenly terrified. She didn't like how much her voice showed it.

"He said everything was fine, but after he went into the catacombs, he sounded strange, or at least what he wrote did. It was like he had seen something down there. Well, I have no doubt he was scared by all the bodies, but I am starting to think he was not telling me everything. I have an awful feeling about all of this. I know that we have not gotten a signalling device to him yet, but I do not think there will be way to get one to Harry, and I refuse to put him at any more risk. Right now, I just want to know that he is here with us, and safe. I ... I couldn't live with myself if something happened ..."

She knew that the plan would become harder than it had been before with nobody to plant the device, but Evelyn took only a moment's glance at Severus, and knew that there was only one decision to make. And in her heart, that decision would have been the same had he not looked so worried.

"Okay," she whispered. "Shall we write him now?"

"I will," said Severus, getting up to grab the parchment.

"You're really worried, aren't you?" Evelyn said, a little bit surprised. It was strange, for the aloof Severus she had been presented with upon their very first meeting had slowly disappeared to be replaced with this man before her. This Severus was vulnerable, questioning, unsure sometimes. It comforted her a little to know that she was not the only one that did not have all the answers - that he too was trying to keep this from falling apart.

Severus swallowed, and nodded.

Evelyn watched him as he wrote, staring at his hand sliding across the paper and leaving behind his cramped writing. He had surprised her. She had had no idea he was so worried. She remained silent for a while, reading the writing as it formed on the page.

Potter, it has been decided that there is nothing more for you to find out for us. You are to sneak out of the Potioneer's Society tonight and slide through the bars in the gate. They are wider than those that make up the fence and you should be able to go through, considering you size. I do not believe there are any enchantments on them to detect you sliding through. They will not have considered someone so small would be a problem. Wear your robes, for they are dark in colour and will be difficult to see in the night. I will be waiting for you, watching. You will not see me, but I will make myself visible when you come out. Make sure that you are out of the Society for one-thirty am, at which time you are to meet me. By that time everyone should be asleep.

Severus tapped the parchment with his wand, and sat, staring at its blankness.

"It may take him a while to respond," said Evelyn. "We should start digging, in the meantime."

"I agree," muttered Severus.

Evelyn descended first into the gaping blackness of the tunnel, for it was her turn to dig. Severus took her hand and helped to steady her as her feet went down the grimy ladder. Soon after he descended as well, and followed her into the darkness. Evelyn ahead of him, she filled each little jar with flames as she went, settling them carefully in the tunnel walls. She put her hand on her heart when she lit the very last, for at her feet sat a tiny mouse, its jewel bright eyes looking up at her curiously from the tunnel floor. Severus peered over her shoulder, and he let out a sharp breath, but it was not of surprise.

"Accio mouse," he said, and it gave a high pitch squeak as it zoomed over Evelyn's shoulder and into Severus' palm. He waved his wand silently, and it went limp.

Evelyn, who had mashed herself against the tunnel wall to avoid the flying mouse, gaped at him as he made a duplicate of the jar and put the unmoving mouse in it.

"What on earth are you doing?" she asked a little breathlessly as she recovered from the shock. "What use is a dead mouse?"

"I had an idea," he said. "What if a mouse can get into the Potioneer's Society? It could pass under the fence with the tracking device."

"But if it's dead ..."

"It is not dead," said Severus impatiently. "I have put it in an enchanted sleep until we need it."

"Alright, it's sleeping, but how are you going to get it to the Potioneer's Society?" she asked, dumbfounded as Severus conjured a lid for the jar and screwed it on, punching a few little holes in it with magic.

"The imperius curse," he said simply.

Evelyn shook her head in amazement and muttered, "I would never have thought of that."

"Well, if I had not seen the mouse down here, I would not have either," said Severus quickly, his left arm twitching slightly. Evelyn wondered if it was stiff from all the digging. "We will have to find a place to keep it."

When they returned from safely stowing the mouse in a cupboard, they dug as swiftly as they could, straight until lunch. When they emerged to wolf down a few bites of food, panting and tired, they found a message on the parchment from Harry.

If you say my job is done, then it is. I will do as you said. I can't wait to get out of here.

Evelyn and Severus exchanged relieved glances, but neither could speak for the worry that it would all go wrong. This worry was not spoken aloud however as they drained their glasses of water and slid back into the gloom, the darkness seeming more natural than the light after so many days spent in its depths. By the time they wrapped up digging for the day Evelyn felt as though she had lived her whole life down in the tunnel.

"Four hundred and ten feet," she muttered finally, crouched at the end of the tunnel with her wand raised.

Severus glanced wearily around, "So that leaves ... what, a little under eight hundred feet to go?"

"That sounds about right," she said with a sigh. "But, we did end a little earlier today."

They blinked in the sudden light of the house as they emerged from tunnel, showering dirt everywhere. Evelyn felt like she would collapse any moment, but Severus looked a thousand times worse than she did. And to think they had wrapped up early.

Both of them ate a hasty dinner and then changed out of their digging clothes, the curtain between them. After this they quickly got washed up.

"I can go and get bread, Severus," said Evelyn, taking her turn with the water basin and flannel as Severus rested his head on the table. "You look like you need some rest. Sleep a little bit. I'll wake you up when I get home. Besides, you need the rest if you're going to go get Harry tonight."

It was a clear indicator of how tired he was that he said yes.

"I'll be gone a while," said Evelyn rather tiredly as she hoped silently that she would be able to get to the little bakery before it closed for the night. "After I get us bread I'm going to take a detour to the field out on the edge of the city where I buried Ellery. Nobody knows where that is but me."

"Make sure to put a disillusionment charm on anyway, just in case someone does know and is watching."

"Don't worry, I will be careful. And you should keep the parchment near you so you can hear if Harry writes, although I think he should be fine. And you can sleep on my bed for now. It's more comfortable than the floor."

Severus nodded gratefully as she gathered the last of the coins, and then he flopped down on the straw tick, the parchment lying on the lumpy pillow beside his head. He was asleep as soon his head hit the pillow. His robes would be wrinkled when he awoke, the way they were laying beneath him. It was with a shake of her head that Evelyn noticed he had not lined the buttons up properly in his fatigue. When she had finished gathering her things and was ready to leave, Evelyn smiled tiredly down at him, and grabbed his quilt from where it had been stored, folded in a corner. With one fluid motion she unfolded it and settled it on top of him. She knelt down beside Severus, and for a second he awoke, blinking dazedly up at her. After a moment's hesitation, she put her hand on his cheek. He leaned into its warmth, asleep once more. She could have sat like that forever. Yet, she forced herself to stand, and with one final glance at him she swept out the door. Evelyn had to remind herself she would only be gone a little while.

     Yet, she did not know what she would do when he went back to his own time. And at that moment, to Evelyn, her way forward was so suddenly clear. Damn this society, this life, this time. She wouldn't look back on any of these things. The only thing left for her to do was find the words to tell Severus that she would indeed go with him.

Day 6 Continued

 Darkness had fallen on the Potioneer's Society, and Harry felt the familiar stabbing pains that had graced him last night. This time he was willing to admit that he was lonely, that he missed Snape and Evelyn, and that this strange place made him feel cold (the unfamiliar cramped room, the shabby bed he slept in). Even the snores in the other room sounded alien. Having now gone back in time twice with Snape, Harry had become oddly accustomed to the sounds of his professor sleeping. Harry had found the sound of Snape's soft snores almost comforting, however odd he felt admitting it. Sighing softly to himself, Harry glanced at his writing table, where the parchment still lay. He had been shocked when he read that Snape was coming for him tonight, for he thought that his part of the mission was still unfinished. Although, this was not to say that he was complaining that Evelyn already knew roughly who McTavish's associates were. Despite the insistence that he was finished, Harry still felt there was more he could have done. But the feeling of relief far outweighed this.

An awful thought occurred to Harry that perhaps Snape's reason for coming to get him tonight was not what it seemed. What if Harry's job was not done yet, but Snape was coming to get him because he didn't think Harry could handle it? What if Snape thought he was weak? Harry closed his eyes, wondering. All of the uncertainties rose up around him. What if Snape had been ignoring him because he thought that Harry was too much of a coward? Snape was so brave, and strong. Perhaps he did not want to be around Harry because of that, and he was ashamed to be seen with him. He thought that this might have had something to do with it, but the fact was that Harry had no solid understanding of why Snape had been pretending he didn't exist. It both worried and infuriated him that he had no concrete answer for why. What pained him the most was that he was so afraid to ask. He hoped that the plan would go well tonight, and that he would work up the courage to ask when he saw Snape again.

Fears and doubts crept up on Harry, and feeling restless as he bided his time on his bed, he wondered if Snape too was anxious for tonight. Glancing at his watch, Harry was amazed that it was only nine-o-clock. Four and a half hours would have to pass before the moment came for him to slip through the bars in the gate and meet Snape. That moment seemed so far away, and suddenly, another wave of loneliness hit Harry. He hadn't realized how much he had been looking forward to seeing Snape since he had gotten the message, but now that the clock seemed to have stopped, he understood just how badly he wanted to talk to him. Biting his lip, Harry once more glanced over at the quill and parchment on the table by his bed.

Despite the fact that he had already written back to tell Snape of his agreement with the plan, Harry picked up the quill. He needed someone to talk to. He was afraid that he would not get to see Snape like they planned, and that fuelled his need to ask the question he had been trying to for so long. A part of him did want very badly to know why Snape had been ignoring him before this. It bothered Harry more than he let himself admit, and sitting there, in the darkness, he hoped that it was Snape who answered back, and not Evelyn. Harry hoped that he would have the guts to ask the question he had been trying to speak since they had arrived in the past, and Snape had begun to actually meet his gaze again.

"Is anyone there?" he wrote, and then tapped the parchment. It glowed blue briefly, and then the writing disappeared. He waited for what felt like forever, but it was really only a few moments.

Fresh ink welled up on the page in the form tiny, cramped writing.

"Is something wrong?"

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes. Is everything alright? Have you discovered something?"

Harry suddenly felt a little bit of the pinching tightness in his chest fade away. For a moment, his pain was lifted.

"Everything's fine. I haven't discovered anything. My mentor has been asleep for a while. He went to bed at eight thirty. Most of the researchers here turn in early, what with them all being pretty old."

"If you have not discovered anything, what are you writing for?" inquired Snape's handwriting. The words looked more neatly formed, as though Professor Snape had taken a few moments penning this answer out, perhaps because he was thinking deeply. "You are still in agreement with the plan?"

"Yes, the plan is fine. It's just that ... I'm -" Harry paused in writing, before taking the plunge and finishing his sentence. Just ink. That's all it was. Some things were easier to say on paper. "- lonely. And I can't sleep. Besides. It is not as though I can go to bed."

The response took a long time, and Harry, for a few horrible moments, thought that Snape had simply rolled up the parchment, scoffing. But he replied. The words looked hesitantly written at first, but became more definite as the sentence progressed.

"I feel a little lonely myself, actually. Evelyn has been gone a little while. She went to get bread so we would not have to waste time getting it tomorrow, and after that she planned to visit Ellery's grave for a while. She left me so I could rest before I leave to get you tonight."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief that Snape had not made fun of him, although he was not really sure where to go next with this conversation.

"How's the tunnel?" he penned back.

"Well, for now."

Harry stalled, lost for words. But Professor Snape continued for him.

"Does it look like you will be able to sneak out tonight?"

"Yes, it's been really quiet this evening. It's cloudy too, so it'll be darker sooner."

"Good. I will be waiting."

Harry paused, gathering courage. Finally, what he had been dying to say burst from within him. He did not consider that his question was abrupt.

"Why were you ignoring me back at school? What made you stop? Is it just because none of them are here to see you speaking to me?"

It seemed as though, like Harry earlier, Snape was having trouble finding the right words, for the response took a long time. When it finally came, with much crossing out, it said this, and only this.

"I see. You must think I am an awful person. And you are right, in many ways."

Harry didn't know what to reply, so he set down his quill. But in a minute or two, the writing changed again, and he read the words, half afraid of what they would mean. It seemed as though Snape had something more to say after all, and that he had been anticipating this question.

"After I arranged with Dumbledore for you to live at the Weasleys' home, and made sure you were safe, I took a step back. I stopped talking to you, or addressing you in class. I was not specifically trying to ignore you. There were a lot of reasons why I did not speak to you in the hallways, or after class on the many attempts you tried to reach me. I am not angry with you. You are a good person. But if you will let me explain, perhaps ... perhaps you can at least begin to understand."

Snatching up his quill, Harry scribbled the words "Tell me."

So in time, Snape proceeded. "I shall try my best. You see, Harry, a lot of students in Slytherin house have families who supported the Dark Lord, whom you know as Voldemort. A lot of them still do support him, even though it has been many years since he was in power. It poses a surprisingly large problem. Students of those parents expect me to favour them, because they believe that I am still loyal to the Dark Lord, because, as you know from what I told you while we went back in time the last time, I was once a follower of his. I turned spy for Dumbledore, but the Dark Lord, as well as his other followers, believed that I was spying on Dumbledore for them, and not the other way around. Dumbledore believes that the Dark Lord is still out there, and that one day, he may return to power. That is why my act is still so valuable. I must continue pretend that I am loyal to him, by showing those who remain faithful. That is why I have not been able to interact with you extensively, and why I favour certain students in Slytherin, so as not to let on that I have sided with the light. It is not that I want to do either, but for the sake of those who are faithful to the light, I must continue to play my part, so that one day if the Dark Lord does return, I can work from within to bring him down. But, sometimes, when fighting for what is good, you hurt people. I know it has hurt you, and I am sorry. Does that make any sense at all?"

Harry sighed, his chin in his hands. He didn't like to be told these things. He didn't like to think that Voldemort was still out there. Somehow though, he couldn't be angry at Snape, as much as he had been at least. Snape's words made sense, although it seemed as though he had anticipated this question from Harry, for it sounded oddly planned. Either that, or Snape was leaving something out. If it was as simple as it seemed, Harry wondered why Snape had not just told him earlier of what he had written. If it was this easy, why hadn't he said so? The burning feeling of injustice in Harry's gut diminished, leaving him feeling cold and empty. He had not been so much angry at Snape as searching for a reason why, for Harry had long wondered what had made Snape begin his silence. It seemed to Harry that just when Snape was starting to get to know the real Harry, not the carbon copy of James Potter, that Snape had pulled away.

"It does make some sense, I guess. But why didn't you find me, and tell me you were just acting?" Harry tapped the parchment and sent his reply over to Snape. The reply took many minutes.

When Snape's handwriting returned, it was careful, cautious, but with a definite waver in the smooth lines of his letters, unlike the cool response previously Yet, the reply was not complete.

"I ... as I said, that was not my only reason. You see ... you remin-" here Snape's sentence cut off, and without even crossing it out he had begun a new one, not completing what was being originally said. This time the writing was messier, almost frantic. "Something's happened, I have to go."

"Wait! What's wrong?"

But there was no reply.

"What's happened? And what were you going to say?" whispered Harry aloud, confused. "Was it ‘you remind me'? I remind you of what?"

Harry felt his stomach sink. With a cold, sick feeling he understood. He still reminded Snape of his father. Even though he had gotten to know Harry better, he still saw James, and it was too much for him. Maybe that was why Snape seemed to have more to say when they were communicating with the parchment. He didn't have to see Harry, and therefore, did not see James' looks. After all, everyone said that Harry looked like James, and Harry knew all too well that Snape had not liked his father. He had thought him to be lazy and arrogant. Harry had heard the spiel all to many times before they had gone back in time, although Snape had not even bothered to insult his father since they returned, for he had been completely silent around Harry. Snape had probably still been thinking of those hateful words despite his silence.

Thinking of Snape's hate of his father, Harry briefly remembered their last trip back in time, when Snape had been force fed the potion that had made him hallucinate and relive parts of his past. In his delusional sate he had been talking about Harry's mother, Lily. From how it had sounded to Harry, Lily had stopped being friends with Snape and started to hang around Harry's father. Perhaps Harry reminded him of his best friend being stolen from him. She must have meant a lot to Snape if he was still angry at James after all these years.

"Angry enough to be unable to stand the sight of his son," Harry muttered, voice shaking, feeling sick.

He wished he had not asked why Snape had been ignoring him. Blinking rapidly, Harry realized that Ron and Hermione had been right. Snape would never be his friend.

Feeling empty inside, worried, and ill, Harry lay back on his bed, the parchment lying on a pile of books by his beside, instead of folded up and hidden in a book as it usually was.

He could not sit still, however. Not when the parchment was blank. Even if he felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest, he was still worried about Snape, though he wondered why he was wasting his energy on this. However much he wanted not to care, the pale colour of the parchment, devoid of ink made Harry want to scream after a half-hour of staring at it. So, he slid out from under the thin covers, taking pains to make his bare feet silent upon the wood floor. Terror hammered against his rib cage, threatening to burst like a beast from within. He licked his dry lips, and tiptoed out of the room, thinking of the water bucket. At least his thirst was something to distract him from the parchment, and perhaps, when he returned to his bed, it would have a response. But what if Snape was hurt? Or they had been discovered? What if both Evelyn and Snape were killed, and Harry was stuck in the year 1613, alone? Thoughts such as these were equally stifling as the summer night, wafting in through the open windows. But even the soft sound of crickets down below could not calm Harry, for he could not stop such terrible thoughts. He wished for anything to distract himself, so Harry tried once more focus his thoughts on the cool water in the bucket by the door, the metal dipper for drinking hanging beside it, which he knew lay not too far from where he was. Despite his strong desire to reach it, he took great pains as he passed his mentor's door, not wishing to wake him. The man was fair, and while a little strict, he was kind. But Harry did not want to have to explain his clammy hands and pale face to anyone.

Through the hall and into the front room Harry went. The room that held the door leading to the corridor outside had a small wooden table and some chairs, a few cupboards, a wood stove - mostly for heating during the winter - and of course, the water bucket. Harry slid around the table and reached for the metal dipper. He sunk it beneath the dark, still water, which was charmed to stay cool.

As he brought the dipper to his lips, he heard a noise. Thirst now the last thing on his mind, he froze. There were voices out in the hallway. He looked over his shoulder to check that his mentor's door was still closed. Carefully, Harry replaced the dipper. He tiptoed closer to the door, trying to keep his feet away from the crack. Though the room he was in was dark, and despite the fact that it would have been extremely difficult to see a shadow where he was standing, he did not want to take any chances. The voice he was hearing belonged to McTavish, and he too seemed to have a reason to be secretive. Harry listened intently, taking in the hushed words, catching snippets here and there.

"-hurry, Morgan said ... urgent. At ... usual ..."

Despite his still body, rigid as a board, an intense battle was raging within Harry. It had sounded like McTavish was leaving the Potioneer's Society, but where was he going at nine fifteen, when the rest of the researchers were sleeping? Part of Harry knew that it would be very dangerous to even consider following him to eavesdrop, and that he should not risk getting caught when he had to meet Snape later that night. But a larger part of Harry was burning with both curiosity, and a desire to act. That larger part also knew that he had plenty of time before he had to meet his professor, if the plan was even still going to take place. Harry wondered wildly if Snape was even in any state to come and get him. The fear of what Evelyn and Snape may have been dealing with back at the house and the disappointment and anger at his recent revelation of why Snape was ignoring him added fuel to his desire to act.

The thought of going back to his room tortured him. Why do that when he could follow McTavish? Instead of sitting idly by as he waited for Snape's reply, he could be gathering information. Important information that could make their mission go from nearly impossible, to simply difficult. For a moment, Harry thought of what Snape would think if he chose to follow McTavish. He would probably say something about Harry being a foolish Gryffindor. Harry frowned, but then began to consider that Snape might be, for lack of a better word, almost proud of him for gathering such information, if it was indeed crucial. Snape had been a spy, so surely he would congratulate Harry for good undercover work? Perhaps then, Snape wouldn't ignore him so much. A little voice in the back of Harry's head reminded him that Snape had already stated his reasons for his lack of contact with him, and that Harry being a disappointment was not one of them.. Yet, despite the dangers, despite the possibility that Snape might not like what he had to do to get the information, Harry wanted desperately to do something. And while he did not want recognize it within himself, some small part of him knew that his reason for tiptoeing out of the door and after McTavish was fuelled by the need to prove himself worthy to Professor Snape. To show that he was deserving of attention, and not only that he was more than just the likeness of James Potter, but that he was brave enough to save them all. Even so, he tried very hard to pretend that it was for noble reasons that he crept behind the party of four now striding across the grass in the moonlight, and into the depths of the quiet London streets, but in that he failed.

The darkness of the streets kept his unsure intentions at bay, for now, with no words having been passed between the four men walking far up ahead for some time, Harry's wariness increased. Finally, someone spoke. Harry only barely caught what the tall, blonde haired man said.

"I have important news, James," were his words, and he sounded nervous. "I do not think you will like what I have to say."

"I know, and be quiet," spat McTavish. "You can tell me when we get there."

Harry felt a shiver of excitement and foreboding run down his spine as questions raced through his mind. The wind began to pick up as the dark clouds rolled across the horizon. It was lucky that it was dark and windy, for it made it easier for Harry to tail them undetected. Sliding from shadow to shadow, always a block behind, Harry followed in a state of rapt anticipation. They walked down the damp streets that ran by the river, for the Thames flowed directly along one side of the Potioneer's Society (some parts of the higher floors even jutted out high up over the river). The darkness surrounded Harry, the glittering water to his right travelling along with a soft, steady rushing sound that mixed with the wind.

After at least twenty minutes of walking, Harry saw McTavish's crew turn right onto a small dock. They followed it to the end, and entered a creaky looking fishing boat with a small cabin. The flicker of a candle being lit illuminated the grungy windowpane, the dark shadows of the men silhouetted against it. From afar Harry watched the boat rocking back and forth steadily in the flow of the Thames, still tethered. Now hiding in a clump of bushes by the banks, Harry bit his lip, thinking hard. There was a thick tangle of netting on the deck, right beneath the open window. He would be able to hear everything that they said, but was it worth the risk?

"Didn't come all this way for nothing," Harry whispered under his breath, and, mustering all of his Gryffindor courage, he took one last look at the window to make sure that nobody was looking. Then, he slid down the grassy bank, and bent over double he crept across the dock.

With his heart hammering in his chest, he swung himself over the railing and into the boat. He wasted no time waiting to see if his efforts were detected, and he tiptoed over to the pile of net. Harry lifted the net slightly, nudged aside a filthy filleting knife beneath it and lay down, pulling the damp, fishy smelling mass over himself. It took a moment for the blood in his ears to quit rushing enough for him to properly hear the voices that were drifting down to him from the open window. They did not appear to have heard him, and beneath the net, where only slivers of light could reach him, Harry felt he was concealed well. He forced himself to calm his breathing, and then he lay as still as he could, listening.

" - really hope this is worth my time, Morgan," said McTavish icily. " Why this could not wait for next week's meeting, when we have an alibi for being out, I do not know. However, I do have a few matters I might as well discuss with you tonight. But first, your news?"

The next voice was low and shaky, an underlying anxiety very apparent in the words it spoke. " I think somebody is catching onto us."

Harry clamped his hand over his mouth to cover up the sound of his heavy breathing.

"And what gives you that impression," was McTavish's reply. Much to Harry's relief, he sounded fairly unconvinced. "I did take care of the old man's friend. I threatened her well enough. I think she should have the sense to leave now."

"That's just it ..." began Morgan, sounding as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. " I only realized it after, but when I obliviated the old man, I didn't - well -"

"Didn't what?" barked McTavish.

"When you oblivate someone completely," said Morgan tentatively, clearly trying to find the best way to explain what he had done, "you ... you usually need to do two charms, right? The first to wipe out the more recent memories from the past few days, and the second to wipe the older memories, see? But ... I only ... I ..."

He did not seem to be able to continue, but McTavish clearly figured out what he meant.

"Do you mean to say, you only did the first charm?" hissed McTavish. He let out a roar, which Harry supposed meant that Morgan had said yes.

"But that will jeopardize our whole plan!" spat a furious voice, presumably belonging to one of the others that had come along. "How could you possibly forget to do the second charm?"

Morgan mumbled unintelligibly, and hushed, angry voices overlapped as they argued, trying to keep it down.

"Wait a moment - I do not understand, " someone said, their voice deep and calm. Silence fell once more. "The first charm will have wiped away his memories of the Potioneer's Society and the experiment, so he won't breathe a word about that. Then why is it so bad that he remembers what happened before he met us?"

"Because, Geoffrey," said the other man who had cried out angrily with much impatience, "The old man will have remembered that he can do magic in the first place, but he won't remember that we destroyed it with a potion, and when he tries to do magic, it will be obvious what we have done! Right, James?"

"Correct. But for now ... I do not think we have to worry about any interference. Eight more days and it will be ready. I've made enough to buy us some proper influence, which means that by the time Evelyn can gather any of her allies - all of which, thanks to my late brother, are conveniently scattered across the country in hiding - we will have gotten so high up the ladder that she won't have a chance at stopping us. Unless, of course, any of you have noticed anything suspicious?"

There were a few murmurs here and there.

"That idiot Peakes will be of no trouble, I should think," said Geoffrey rather boastfully, "not after what I did to his last apprentice, especially when he has no way of proving it was us. Besides, he doesn't have a sniff as to what we're really up to."

Harry felt his stomach clench tightly. The light tone of which the statement had been said made him nauseous.

"See?" McTavish said smoothly. "Nothing to worry about. Can we move onto more pressing matters now?"

"Go ahead and start without me, I have to take a piss," said Geoffrey casually, the others murmuring in response.

The scraping of a chair could be heard, and the boat rocked slightly in the water. Harry could feel his heart hammering hard against his chest as the door opened. Under the net and beneath the window he felt fairly confident that he wouldn't be seen, but he couldn't see where Geoffrey was going. The boat swayed as he walked from the door and to the side of the deck, and Harry closed his eyes, waiting with baited breath. His eyes snapped open when he heard the trickling sound nearby. He could just see the silhouette of Geoffrey now, standing with his back to him by the boat railing, parallel to where Harry lay. When he was finished relieving himself, Geoffrey turned around, starting to make his way around the tangle of netting and crates strewn across the deck.

Harry heard a scuffle, and a stream of curse words as Geoffrey got caught on something and tripped. Suddenly, a foot descended on Harry's fingers. He had no time to move them. He bit his tongue hard to keep from crying out, hoping the crunching noise would not give him away. Geoffrey moved his foot, the scuffling sounds of him righting himself reaching Harry's ears, which were pounding with the sound of his heart. Tasting blood, Harry lay stock still, holding his breath. Unable to see the man properly through the net to gauge his reaction, Harry wondered ... had Geoffrey felt it? Had he realized what he had stepped on? The heavy breathing of Geoffrey nearby kept Harry on edge, but soon he heard him take another step away from him. He was just daring to believe he might be alright when he got the shock of his life. Harry felt two knees land on either side of him, pinning him so he could not escape. A hand groped over him, and latched onto his throat through the net, and Harry could barely see through it. He saw the flash of something shiny. The blade of the dirty filleting knife he had pushed aside earlier was slitting the net open.

"Hold still!" spat Geoffrey through gritted teeth as he tried to drag Harry out of the hole he had made in the net. Harry thrashed harder, trying in vain to free the man's hands from his throat, but he was having no luck.

Harry let out a piercing cry as he felt a sharp, splitting pain in his shoulder. The knife had sliced a deep gash in it. He stopped struggling in his shock and was dragged out through the opening in the net to be dropped unceremoniously on top of it, clutching his gushing arm as Geoffrey panted in fury. With watering eyes, Harry saw that one of the other men had stuck his head through the window above him. Looking up, Harry saw those cold McTavish eyes staring down at him, glaring at him from a face so like the one that had sentenced Harry to death back in late September.

Harry closed his eyes. What had he done?

Day 6 Continued

 Evelyn felt confusion wash over her when she entered the house and saw the parchment lying upon the table with the hasty writing of Harry, his reply to whatever Severus had been writing still plainly spelt out.

"Wait, what's wrong?" it said, and these words set Evelyn's heart pounding.

The fire was only embers, and barely fought the darkness of the night. She held the bread under her arm, glancing frantically around the room. Severus was nowhere to be found. Quite suddenly she was terrified something had happened, that she had lingered at Ellery's grave far too long. Evelyn took another furtive glance around the room, and she noticed, much to her surprise, that the trapdoor was open. Severus understood very well that they had agreed not to dig without the other there, in case something went wrong. Evelyn rushed over to the black hole in the floor, and she fell to her knees before it.

"Severus?" she cried, down into the deep darkness and calling out as loudly as she could. "Are you down there? What's wrong?"

She waited breathlessly for a moment, heart hammering in her chest. Then, after a few minutes from the blackness came his voice, faint and far away. She had to lower her head into the hole and cup her ear to hear him, and even then she could barely make out his words.

"I heard one of the supports fracture about twenty minutes ago," he called up to her. "The cracked support is about a hundred feet down the tunnel, but the earth around it is still fairly stable. I am working on replacing it before the crack gets worse. I almost have it out. When I do I can magic in a new one."

"I'm coming down to help you," Evelyn said, starting to descend the ladder without bothering to put on her digging clothes. "I can't let you work alone down there."

She stepped down onto the damp floor of the tunnel, the light above her spilling into the entranceway. Evelyn stared down the passage, which was illuminated slightly by the magical flames, which resided in lidless jars dug into the walls. Wooden supports stood between these. Far away Evelyn could see Severus' silhouette. He heard her coming, and without turning around, he spoke.

"Evelyn, I will be fin-" but his words were cut off by a loud cracking noise, like wood splitting.

Evelyn felt her insides grow cold, and before her eyes she saw the supports come crashing down where Severus was, and then a gust of damp air rushed toward her, bringing clouds of dirt and extinguishing the light as it went along, one jar at a time. She heard Severus give a shout, and with the wind tangling her hair she scrambled as quickly as she could toward where Severus was, fighting the scream trying to rise out of her chest. It did not occur to her just how dangerous it was for her to be rushing toward a spot that had just fallen in. The realization that another cave-in was possible did not even cross her mind. Even if it had, she would have run there anyway.

As she ran, Evelyn whipped out her wand and cast lumos. The light bounced off the walls, and as she continued it illuminated the cave-in, now only about ten feet away. There were splinters of wood everywhere, and the ceiling of the tunnel had a huge gouge in it where the dirt had cascaded down. A number of stones were lying atop the wreckage and Evelyn caught sight of something beneath it. Amidst the dirt and debris, she could see a pale, dirt-streaked hand.

"SEVERUS!" she cried. There was no answer, and she threw herself to the ground and started to dig.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Evelyn gasped, and lifted the stones by magic. She gave her wand a jerk, and it drifted to the side of the tunnel, where she let it rest.

Frantically, she pushed away dirt, reaching under it and groping around as she tried to find Severus. There were more splinters of wood than earth however, and with the numerous rocks gone Severus began to stir. With such suddenness that Evelyn almost gasped, Severus broke out from under the pile of dirt and took a huge, shuddering gulp of air. He coughed and retched, and Evelyn took a hold of his arms and pulled him free from the debris, fear giving her the strength to do so.

"Are you badly hurt?" she inquired anxiously, having difficulty speaking.

Severus gave a choking cough and gave a sort of shrug, then shook his head. His face was black with dirt, and he had a gash along his jawline that was oozing blood.

"We should get out of here," Evelyn said quickly, taking his arm.

She made sure that Severus climbed over her and went first along the tunnel, and his wheezing and sputtering created a strange rhythm with their steps. She had him in front of her her as they shuffled through the semi-darkness, ready to catch him should he fall. Though he stumbled, he did not crash to the ground as his body seemed to want to. Wearily, he climbed up the ladder. Evelyn followed, and when she too emerged, she found him lying on the floor and gasping at odd intervals, though it appeared that it was only panic that had induced this state. He looked fairly unhurt, though dirt was caked on his arms and face, and the blood from the gash on his jaw had mixed with it. As soon as she was fully out of the tunnel, Evelyn shut the trapdoor firmly. The little jar of flames on the table was still burning brightly, and the embers in the fire grate danced. She threw another stick of wood on the fire, and as it caught a shaft of light illuminated the small home.

"Can you sit up?" she asked Severus after she had done this.

He nodded, still panting.

"Here," she said, taking his arm and helping him shuffle over and sit with his back resting against the wall. He did not speak, but his breathing was beginning to grown calmer. "That looks like it hurts."

There were several splinters sticking out of Severus' right arm. He was still wearing his robes, rather than his digging clothes, and the splinters had made cuts in the black fabric. A few of the fragments were large, and deep. They had drawn blood.

"I'm going to have to remove the splinters," muttered Evelyn as she stared at the pieces of wood and forcing herself to be calm. "It's not going to feel nice."

Severus gave a slight jerk of his head, as though to say he was indifferent to it.

"Are you alright besides these?" she asked, gesturing to the cut and splinters.

He nodded, still breathless.

"Alright, here it goes," she said, reaching out for the first splinter. Severus's jaw became set as she pulled it from his arm, but he remained silent, and showed no other outward sign that it caused him pain despite the fact that the fragment was at least an inch and a half deep, and stained a deep red. She gingerly set the splinter down beside them. Evelyn then pulled the second and third splinters in quick succession, and yet Severus did not utter a sound, and she was sure that he wasn't in near enough shock for the pain to be that minimal. This baffled her, because all the men she had known in life would have at least winced, albeit quietly. Yet somehow, Severus did not. In fact, he almost looked bored. She wondered what it was that made him so good at concealing his pain. This realization caused her to become simultaneously amazed at his strength, and almost fearful of what this man must have had to experience to make him so silent in his pain. Knowing that now was not the time for serious contemplation, Evelyn pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind, and focused on the task at hand.

After a quick once over, Evelyn was relieved to see that besides the occasional bruise or cut, the splinters seemed to be the only injuries. The cuts could be healed easily, especially if she had been right in recalling that Severus had brought some healing potions with him. She wanted to ask him what he had brought, but the shock finally was starting to set in, and he was staring off into space. So she went over to his rucksack and rummaged around a little. She came up with a small bottle, and drew a breath of relief. It was Essence of Dittany. With a clean flannel and some water, she washed the wounds and put a few drops of Dittany on each of them, able to work through the large holes in the fabric of his robes. She was rinsing out the flannel in a bucket when Severus finally spoke.

"Evelyn," he said hoarsely, and she looked up. "The tunnel, I am so sorry ... I should not have ... this is all my fault. We have lost so much time already - "

"Severus," she began gently, sitting upon her knees before him. It seemed as though now he had finally spoken, he was unable to stop the panicked words from spilling over his lips.

" - and with a cave-in who knows if we can even do this. What if we fail?" His eyes were wide, uncertain. "It is all up to us, the entire wizarding world rests on -"

"Severus," Evelyn said again, but he continued to ramble, not listening.

Yet, Evelyn didn't care that a section of the tunnel had collapsed. She didn't care that they were behind now. She was just grateful he was alive. Before her eyes swam the image of Severus' limp, pale hand under the debris, and her stomach clenched at the thought. But he was alive, and right now, he did not understand in the least that Evelyn was not angry, or why. That him having survived made up for it all.

" - will be my fault, if we cannot break in on time, -"

He continued, his face so wracked with guilt, but Evelyn could not find the words to free him from it, and say just how glad she was he was alive. So she kissed him, in the way she had wanted to for a long time. He tasted of dirt, and sweat. Severus flinched, and Evelyn pulled away quickly, embarrassed.

"Sorry," she said quickly, feeling the blood rush to her face and avoiding his eyes. She had been wrong. Had she imagined the things that had been said over red wine the other night?

"No, you brushed against another splinter," he said, teeth clenched. He reached down, shuddering slightly as he removed a piece of wood embedded above his left knee, not taking his eyes off her as he tossed it aside. There was a fire in his eyes, and to Evelyn's delight he leaned forward and pulled her against him once more. When they finally broke apart, Evelyn couldn't fight the smile, and neither could Severus. They sat for a moment or two before a sudden look of realization slid across Severus' face.

"Oh hell," he muttered, looking disappointed that he had to break the moment, "I have to write back to Harry to tell him about the tunnel. I left mid conversation! He needs to know that I am still coming for him tonight!"

He sprung up, and while Evelyn was worried, she felt some amount of relief that he was there to write back to Harry in the first place.

"Better not let it wait any longer then," she said, getting to her feet and reaching for a broom to sweep the dirt from the floor, limbs still buzzing with all that had happened. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, thanks to you," he replied gravely, staring intently at her. "A little bit more Dittany and I will be right as rain, but first, I must write to Harry."

He shuffled over to the table rather stiffly, and slumped down into the chair, scribbling away with the quill. She was relieved to see that the time on his watch said that it was only quarter to eleven. There was still plenty of time for their message to get to Harry before the time came for him to sneak out.

"Is it worth it?" Evelyn suddenly said, clutching the broom and trying to fight the fear that had been growing within her for days now. "This mission, I mean. Part of the tunnel collapsing, well, it makes me wonder if it's worth our lives to be doing this. I just ... I can't help but question it."

Severus set down the quill and tapped the parchment with his wand, and then he let out a steady breath, eyes thoughtful.

"It would be easier to say that it was not worth it," he muttered. "I do not want to go back into that tunnel, not again. But I will. We know something that the world does not ... we have the power to stop great evil. I think we would be damned not to try, however much I wish we did not have to."

"You're right," Evelyn said heavily, sinking down into the chair. "I know we must continue, I just ... I don't want to have to gamble everything for this. I never realized how much I have to live for ... how much I have to lose. First Ellery, and - and I know I didn't tell you this but," Evelyn took a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears - "I got a letter from my mother's friend, whom she had fled Scotland with. It was only a few weeks after I had come to London looking for Ellery, and then I found out that my mother had gotten s- sick, and ... and she didn't make it. Then, I was left with only Ellery, and he - he passed away so suddenly -" she choked slightly - "I thought there was nothing left for me to lose. And then my greatest hope ... and yet, somehow my greatest fear also ... came true. You returned. The invention actually worked. You came back, and Harry is alive. It is like the world has decided to remind me that I have so much to lose if I give my life to this cause. And worse still - I now see what I would be without should you, or Harry, die, and I survive. I never thought that I would be trying to look for a way out like I am now. I don't want to be a hero," she said, suddenly frantic. "I never wanted that Severus, and neither do I want you or Harry to have to be one either. I don't want to lose it all for this, even though I know that so much rests on our shoulders."

"You won't," said Severus after a moment's consideration, looking into her eyes intently, calming her with his steadiness. "You will not lose everything, and neither will I. We are in this together, and we will come out of it together. Harry too."

"How do you know that?" Evelyn asked, wanting so desperately to believe his words.

"I don't," he admitted, proceeding hesitantly, his eyes staring off into the distance, his brows furrowed. "But ... sometimes you have to believe, because otherwise, how else can you go on? That small bit of hope is why we are doing this. It is the cause worth fighting for."

"You're right, Severus," she replied in a whisper, though she was still afraid.

"It will all work out in the end, you will see."

"I hope so."

And she closed her eyes, and he took her hand in his. Silence fell, but to two souls so worried, the knowledge that someone was there was all that was needed.

It seemed like a lifetime later when the hands on Severus' watch reached one in the morning, forcing them to release eachother's hands. He was almost at the door, her following behind him, when he turned around. With a strange sort of urgency, he kissed her so hard she was just about swept off her feet, and she felt on his lips all the things he couldn't say. That he too never wanted it to end, this moment, this kiss. When they broke apart, panting slightly, she had to watch him go out the door. He glanced back one last timee before plunging into the night to go meet Harry. Evelyn hoped so badly that Harry would indeed come down to meet Severus, for no answer had been written upon the parchment. Fear clinging to her insides, the taste of Severus' kiss still lingering on her lips, she watched out the window as he sunk into the shadows of the alleyway to apparate closer to the Potioneer's Society.

Even after he had gone, Evelyn stood there, knowing that there was nothing for her to do but await his return, and with luck, Harry's as well. She didn't like to think what would happen if he had thought the plan was called off. She did not know what she would do if it all went wrong.

Day 7

Harry's shoulder hurt terribly, and it was still bleeding as he sat on the cold stone floor in the corner of McTavish's dark office. It was slightly dusty in the room, as though McTavish spent far more time in his lab than in here, which Harry thought was likely true. His thoughts of this did not last long, however, for his shoulder gave another large throb, causing him to grimace. At one point he had tried to wipe some of the grime from the cut, but without water this was difficult. It was however, not the difficulty that made him so very unwilling to attempt it again. Instead this unwillingness stemmed from the fact that he had almost thrown up when he had wiped away the blood, for he had seen a glimpse of white. He had been sure it was bone. Harry took a shuddering breath, and trying not to think of the wound, he began instead to wonder what was going to happen to him. The trip up to the Potioneer's Society had been rough, and he had been dragged along quite unceremoniously. But now, despite all the anger that McTavish and his men had shown, he had been left all alone, unable to go anywhere. He had tried to open the door earlier, and even stood silently in concentration, trying to unlock it with magic like he had done with his cupboard by accident when he was younger, but closed the door remained. Locked in the room, he had collapsed on the ground, trying to think his way out while he fought the pain. He did not wish to be here when McTavish returned.

It was sunrise now. The small window in the office allowed beams of light to spill into the gloom, but Harry closed his eyes. In all of this he could not quite forget the hurried message that he had last read on the parchment - Snape's last words to him. He tried not to think of what would happen if those words truly were Snape's last, and not just the final words said to Harry. He wondered what had made Snape stop writing. Had the problem been quickly resolved, and did Harry simply miss their message because he left so soon? Had Snape still planned to come get Harry, and had he only missed him by minutes? Had he waited all night outside the Potioneer's Society in the shadows, wondering where Harry was? What had he done when Harry did not show? Had Snape even been able to make it to the Potioneer's Society? What if something had happened, and Snape and Evelyn were dead, or captured? What if McTavish had found them earlier?

"No," Harry muttered aloud to himself as the last thought went through his panicked mind. McTavish would have mentioned it at the meeting. He had been convinced Evelyn would not try to thwart them again. Despite this, the many possibilities of what could have gone wrong besides McTavish finding them made Harry feel cold and sick to his stomach.

He heard a door open across the hallway, and a sudden surge of hope washed over him. Mr Peakes surely would have noticed his absence. Of all people, he should at least have an inkling of what was going on, what with his insistence that McTavish had something to do with what happened to his last apprentice. Yet, the very same thought that had at first inflated Harry's hopes punctured it upon further consideration. Mr Peakes' last apprentice ... what had they done to him? How had they covered it up so well, and made sure that Mr Peakes did not speak? Whatever they did, with a sudden rush of fear and adrenaline, Harry suddenly realized that they could do it again. This thought engulfed him in despair, but he could focus on it only for a moment, for within seconds of this idea occurring to Harry, the office door creaked open.

"Get up, boy," spat McTavish.

Despite aching all over, Harry did so immediately. Years at the Dursleys had taught him when not to disobey, and this moment was one of those. As soon as he was standing, McTavish dragged someone into the room by the collar. It was Mr Peakes, and he was looking every bit as frightened as Harry felt.

"See?" said McTavish cordially, all contempt within his voice gone. "The boy is going to be fine, Gregory." His tone became ever so slightly more forceful as he continued. "He simply hurt his shoulder last night. He fell down the stairs while exploring past his bedtime. Didn't he, Gregory? He is lucky I found him. I will mend his shoulder, and give him a little talking to. He will be staying with me for a few days, until I can determine that he is properly healed, because you do not know a thing about this sort of thing. Is that clear?"

While Mr Peakes did not respond, it was plain to see that he did not believe such a story. It was quite obvious McTavish did not intend him to.

"Breathe a word otherwise, and the entire Society will stumble upon evidence that will reveal your last apprentice's death as more than just an accident, and point them straight to you, which of course means your life's work will be put on hold forever, and your research will never see the light of day. I assure you there will be no way for you to disprove such allegations."

Mr Peakes went a delicate shade of grey, swallowed thickly, and let another of McTavish's goons lead him back into his quarters. Before the door was shut, Harry caught one last glimpse of his face, and it showed utmost sorrow. Still, he made no move to help Harry.

Harry looked down at his feet, blinking back a sudden rush of tears. He wondered why he wasn't used to this sort of thing. It hadn't been that long since he had been free of the Dursleys, and they had always put other things before him. With a wry thought Harry remembered that even Snape couldn't stand the sight of him because he looked so much like his father. Why then did it sting so much that Mr Peakes put his research before Harry, his apprentice? It was his life's work after all ... but still, the fact of the matter was that it was Harry's life at stake. It was Harry's neck on the line, and was that really worth ignoring for a stack of dusty research, albeit years of it? Harry thought not, but from what he had seen, Mr Peakes disagreed.

McTavish was still in the room, and he sneered at him.

"Thought you would snoop around, eh boy?" he hissed. "Who are you communicating with?"

"Nobody," Harry murmured, not allowing himself to look away from McTavish's icy eyes, because he had been taught from years of lying to Uncle Vernon that eye contact was essential if you were going to be convincing in the least. "I wanted to pick up tips on how to be a successful potions master. You're much better at what you do than Mr. Peakes." He sneered slightly as he said the name, feeling more and more like the sorting hat had been right about him. He pushed this thought away as he continued. "So ... I followed you. I shouldn't have, I know, but I want to be a success someday, like you."

Harry hated the words, but the time had come for him to swallow his pride, and lie through his teeth. It was the only thing to do.

"Is that so?" said McTavish, narrowing his eyes, trying to decide if Harry was being honest. "I'm not quite sure that I believe you, but you are right about Gregory Peakes. I am far better a potions master than he is, and Gregory has no idea the scale of my research, nor could he comprehend it were I to enlighten him. Why, not even Simon Kendrick would be able to understand what I have accomplished, and his research on potion based explosives for wizarding mining operations is considered cutting edge."

Harry did not speak, but stood there as straight and still as he could, waiting.

"Even so, I can't take the risk that you were communicating with someone," he said coolly. "I think I'll leave you here a while. I have a hunch that someone is going to find you, whether an accomplice or someone else. Peakes blabbed to his last apprentice's parents, so I have no doubt that yours will show up. Of course, Gregory never knew that little Zachary Benson's parents actually came for him when he sent them a letter that their son was in danger. But the Thames knows."

With a sick grin, he turned on his heel, marching into his lab and shutting the door with a snap.

Harry swallowed thickly, fighting the bile rising in his throat, the sound of his blood pounding in his ears reminding him of the rush of a river. He didn't dare close his eyes for the images that his mind was coming up with, of cold, pale bodies floating in the dirty, swirling river. He only hoped that Evelyn and Snape were smarter than Mr and Mrs Benson, and with a slight feeling of relief, he felt quite safe to say they probably were. The fear did not leave him, however, and nor did the pain in his shoulder.

Day 9

The mouse twitched its whiskers, letting its eyes adjust in the dark hours before morning. It took a few moments for the brightness of the warm room to disappear from its eyes. It held a button in its teeth, not knowing why, or how, but understanding somehow that it had to get it to the place that the dead rested. Somewhere above it a set of window shutters opened.

It skittered down the dirty street, darting through and around objects - the wheels of a carriage, an old crate, an empty bread stall that was usually busy in the mornings. It proceeded through streets much like this one for a very long time, until it reached the bank of the river. The mouse's delicate ears picked up the sound of the rushing water. It lifted its nose to sniff the air, which smelled dank and dirty, the smell of horse droppings lingering in the wind that drifted down from the streets. The mouse took its soft paws and repositioned the button in its mouth. The button tingled strangely on its small teeth as it ventured forth.

Along the banks it scurried until suddenly, a cat landed in front of it, spitting and hissing. The mouse's heart rate increased as it veered to its left and fled down a dock and up the gangplank of a boat. Under a splintered wooden bucket it waited. The cat followed silently up onto the deck of the small fishing vessel, but being quite fat from catching mice and rats in the filthy London streets, it gave up the hunt easily.

The mouse slid back out into the moonlight, the button still safely in its mouth. Forward it continued once more.

It was a long time before it slid through the iron gate of a large, stone building with ornate architecture, and marble steps that led to a highly polished wooden set of doors. Once through the gates it did not run toward the doors, but ran along the building wall instead, searching for something. Along the right side of the building it stopped, looking up and twitching its whiskers. Having found what it was looking for, the mouse swiftly climbed up a drain pipe and onto a narrow ledge where the stones jutted out, its small tail moving back and forth in much the same way as a tiny acrobat would use a pole. At last, it found its way in. A window on the lower level had been left open, and the mouse slid inside with ease, jumping down onto the stone floor below. Under the door and out into the corridor it went, the late night making it easy to travel undetected. Only once on its way down the staircases did it have to duck out of sight in a crack in the wall while another fat cat patrolled the building. This cat too passed without detecting it. Down another smaller staircase it went, through a seemingly endless hallway, then into the dank, pitch black tunnels. The smell of dirt and something unmistakably rotten permeated the air here, but the mouse was not fazed. It continued to travel into the depths of the earth. Finally, when it entered a small room off the main tunnel, it stopped.

Its destination reached, the mouse dropped the button. The small metal object made no sound as it fell on the packed dirt floor of the catacombs of the Potioneer's Society. The mouse having done its job, it hurried away. Within minutes it did not recall what it had done with part of its night, nor why it was so far from its usual home.

***

The clock had just struck two-o-clock in the morning, and Severus was holding his wand aloft in the darkness of the tunnel, which was now pushing the envelope of five hundred and thirty feet. Evelyn stood behind him, waiting with bated breath. They were exhausted from tunnelling all day, and had gotten up briefly tonight to execute the next part of the plan. Their weariness showed and the tension in the air was almost tangible. It had been that way since shortly before sunrise hours earlier, when Severus had come home in the wee hours of the morning after a sleepless night, shaking and tired, Harry having not shown up. They had gone to bed in near silence to sleep during the few remaining hours of the night before digging for the day, and preparing for the next part of the plan, for they would need to get up during the next night to do it. As they had readied themselves for bed after Severus' return, both had been unable to say more than a few words, not knowing what to do. The parchment had remained blank, and Evelyn had felt that her mind was the same way. The only thing they could think of was to further the plan while they waited for Harry to respond. If he did not, Evelyn knew not what would happen.

"Are you sure that the spell didn't wear off? Did the device make it?" Evelyn asked tiredly.

"Placing an Imperius curse on a small animal is far easier than a human, so I have no doubt that the curse was effective," muttered Snape. "The mouse had the cover of darkness, so the button should be there. I just need to pick up the signal from it. It might take a moment or two. There is a surprisingly large amount of magic in the air around here."

"I checked the parchment before I came down," said Evelyn uneasily. "Harry still hasn't replied."

"Perhaps he is lying low," said Severus slowly but hesitantly, edging forward with his wand still in the air. "He must have thought the plan was called off, and hasn't had a chance to reply to us. It is entirely possible that he feels it is unwise to communicate at this current juncture."

"He's already had a full day, and part of the night to respond, Severus," said Evelyn, her voice starting to shake. "Aren't you worried?"

Her tone was accusing, and Severus dropped his wand to his side before turning to look at her.

"Of course I am," he murmured grimly, looking pale in the dim light. "But whether we like it or not, he is there, and we are here. We managed the tracker without Harry for now. If he is indeed in danger, there is no way we can reach him just as we are. We will simply have to hope for the best until we can get this tunnel to the Potioneer's Society."

"Yes, and we have six hundred and seventy-five feet left to go, if we were right in our calculations!" she cried. "And that's with the twenty we made up after the cave-in!"

Severus's brows furrowed.

"I know," he muttered. "We'll give him one more day to respond, just in case he has not gotten a chance. Then ... we'll figure something out."

"Like what?" asked Evelyn, dropping her hands to her side, her lit wand throwing light around their feet, leaving their faces but shadows in the dark.

"We ... stop reinforcing the tunnel," said Severus heavily. "We can dig double in a day if we don't reinforce."

"But it will completely cave in if there aren't any supports. It would be too dangerous."

"Then we put in a quarter of what we are doing now," said Severus, starting to sound frustrated. "Whatever it takes to get to Harry, and the potion!"

"And when we get there?" Evelyn asked almost hysterically, her voice rising in volume with the sudden fire that had risen inside her, overtaking her senses, overtaking even the weariness she felt in her very bones. "Then what? You and I both know that it will be no small feat destroying all evidence of that potion! Either we kill everyone that knows about it, or we alter their memories and risk someone breaking the charms! There is no easy way to do this!"

"I wasn't saying there was!" cried Severus. "But we only have five days left to get into that building - five days to decide what to do about those involved with the potion. There isn't an easy way to do any of it ... but ... we have to do something! And it isn't going to be easy to live with either, but sometimes ... sometimes you have to make those choices." He took a shuddering breath, his voice growing stronger and louder with every word as he proceeded. "A-And if you weren't prepared to make them, you shouldn't have suggested this in the first place!"

The echoes of his voice rang through the tunnel, and Evelyn, tired of digging, tired of hiding from McTavish and his friends, tired of everything, spun on her heel and turned her back on Severus, then marched toward the tunnel opening. She heard him calling back to her, saying he didn't mean it to come out that way, that he wished he could take it back, but she didn't listen. She needed silence, she needed peace. Even so, in the turmoil of trying to accomplish so much before the moment when it would be too late, she knew she would not truly find it.

Evelyn did not know how long it had been since she stormed out of the tunnel. It could have been seconds. It could have been hours. However long it had been, she was now curled up in a chair before the fire. The hard wooden back was uncomfortable, but she remained sitting there anyways. She heard the footsteps before he spoke, before the soft quilt was slipped over her shoulders when she was leaning toward the fire.

"Evelyn, I'm sorry," said Severus, and she did not need to see his face to know he meant it. "I spoke too harshly."

"No," she replied, shaking her head as she rose from the chair, clutching the quilt around her as though it was a life line. "No, Severus, you were right about what you said. Maybe it was a bit harsh, but it was the truth. There is no easy way out. Either way, we will have to do something we don't want to ... to ensure the future isn't what they want it to be."

Closing her eyes, Evelyn let out a deep breath, and without waiting for Severus to speak, she fell into his arms, and held on tightly.

"I just can't wrap my head around it," she said, her lips muffled by the cloth of his digging clothes, her cheek resting on his shoulder, her nose brushing his neck. Her words spilled out faster as she spoke, and she hated the truths they conveyed. "The idea of planning to kill ... to take someone's life, it's awful. When I threw that knife back in the square ... I didn't think. I defended myself - I defended you. It didn't really hit me until after what I had done. I-I still dream of it, you know, the look of shock on his face as the knife sunk into him. Now, I know how it feels to take a life. And I don't like it. I don't want to feel that again. But ... now I can't see any other way to ensure that this potion never sees the light of day. It doesn't seem right."

"No, it doesn't," muttered Severus, tightening his arms around Evelyn. "It is a tricky situation. I mean, nothing in the world is all black, or all white for that matter. Not like they tell you when you are a child. As you delve deeper into things ... the more you see ... nearly everything is grey, darker and lighter shades yes, but neither black, nor white. Sometimes you have to do dark things to ensure light prevails. It is an awful truth, but the truth nonetheless."

"Have you taken any lives?" asked Evelyn suddenly, pulling away from Severus to look up at him.

He met her eyes with his, and in the depths of them, Evelyn saw hurt. Severus looked away quickly.

"Yes," he whispered, staring into the fire. "Too many. I'm afraid I am more black than grey."

"Maybe, but you said yourself ...‘nothing in the world is all black'," quoted Evelyn. "I see good in you."

"Then you are one of the few," was the response.

"So does Harry."

"I doubt he does anymore. Not after the way I have been treating him. I am a coward, Evelyn."

"How so?"

But the question was never answered, for a small dinging noise rang through the room, like that of a tiny bell. Severus and Evelyn broke apart, and rushed to the table. The extra enchantment they had added to alert them of a message rang out once more, and words appeared, dark and inky black on the previously blank paper.

This is Gregory Peakes, Mr. Prince's mentor. I do not know who Harold has been communicating to with this, but he left it on his desk a few nights ago before he was kidnapped by James McTavish. Whoever it is on the other end must know that he is in grave danger. I can do very little to help him, for I am being watched. This is the first chance I have gotten to write. I do not know what can be done, but you must come immediately. Do not write back, they will see. I will destroy this paper after I use it, eliminating all traces of it for both our sakes. Please, please come.

Severus looked at Evelyn, eyes wide. Evelyn felt her heart pounding so hard it seemed to be trying to escape the prison of her chest.

"Poor Harry," gasped Evelyn.

"This is all my fault," moaned Severus as he sunk down to the floor, his back against the wall, the paper by his side.

"But he agreed to go in the first place," she said weakly, but knew that Severus would not be listening to her.

He seemed to be trying to distract himself, and picked up the paper again.

"Harry must have left the paper unrolled," croaked Severus after a moment. "We have been sending messages. What if they've seen them?"

"We did not write anything too important," Evelyn assured him, trying to keep calm. "They would only have seen our repeated attempts to get Harry to respond to us. We didn't put any of our plans in writing. Besides, Peakes might not have let them near it."

"You are right," said Severus, "I ... I panicked. But they may suspect that Harry was communicating with someone, if he has been captured. Although ... this could be a clever ruse to get us to show our faces. It is entirely possible."

"But do we really want to risk that?"

Severus frowned before replying, "No. No, we do not."

"So, now what?" whispered Evelyn, almost to herself. She almost jumped when Severus answered, for she was lost in contemplation.

"We speed the break-in. Our only hope is that tunnel, especially on short notice like this."

"What if we are too late? We won't get there soon enough with the rate we are going right now."

"Then we will reinforce as little as possible, and put all our time into digging once we have rested up just a little. We made a hundred and ten feet a day while we were reinforcing. With our growing skill with excavation spells, I would wager we can make one hundred seventy if we only reinforce every twenty-five feet instead of every seven, and narrow the tunnel a little bit more. It will be risky, but if we keep going that way, we should make it in a little over three days of digging."

"Three days," said Evelyn breathlessly. "Harry will have been captured for five by then, if he was indeed captured the night of the cave-in."

"I know," muttered Severus, "but it is the only plan we have got."

Day 11

Harry had long lost count of how many hours, or even days had passed since he had been locked in McTavish's rooms. He had only been in McTavish's office for a little while before he moved him to a spare bedroom, but after that, the days blurred together.

In a haze of confusion and muddled time, Harry sat with his back against the wall in the empty spare room, unable to hear what was going on outside in McTavish's lab thanks to what he supposed were silencing charms. There was no bed, only an empty room and a pot in the corner for Harry to go to the bathroom in. A bowl of water was brought to Harry every day, as well as stale bread. He had to ration the water and food, but today he had started to feel too ill to eat anything.

He had awoken from slumber that morning by the sound of someone coming in to bring the water. They had lit another candle, and as Harry had blinked himself awake in the flickering light he quickly found that he felt slightly feverish. It had remained relatively the same throughout the day, the pain making it all the worse, for his shoulder ached something terrible. It gave a particularly nasty throb and Harry gently felt it with his fingers. The skin was warm to the touch, and the wound still felt wet. Though his neck and whole body ached, Harry gently traced the wound with his finger, and was surprised that it was still bleeding. He was almost sick when he looked down at it. The wetness was not blood coming from the wound as he as he had thought. Instead the candlelight illuminated the yellowish looking pus seeping from the gash, and the skin around it, which was swollen and reddish purple. The edges of the hole in his sleeve were stiff with dried blood and pus. Harry looked away. From where he sat with his back against the cold stone wall he stared up the ceiling to distract himself, watching the flickering light from the candle shimmer above him.

Judging by the amount the candle had burned down, it must have been late evening when Harry felt the room start to spin beneath him as his dizziness increased. At the same time chills washed over Harry, and he wanted to cry but he had no tears left. His sweaty hair stuck to the back of his hot neck, and he slid away from the wall so that he could lie down on the rough wooden floor. Goosebumps erupted on his arms despite the fact that he was boiling hot, and then came the tremors. He closed his eyes, vague thoughts drifting through his head. Where were Snape and Evelyn? Why hadn't they come yet?

***

"Quickly!" grunted Severus, holding up the wooden board above his head, the stony earth starting to crumble away from the roof of the tunnel. One of the side supports had splintered vertically, the piece of wood above threatening to slide out of place because of it. Evelyn was waving her wand as quickly as she could to put a new wood box support together so that they could secure the crumbling earth.

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Evelyn said, shaking with panic as she twisted her wand in the air, hammering the last piece of wood into place to make the box that would fit the tunnel walls once she expanded it with magic. It sat just in front of the broken one Severus was holding.

"On three I will slide it out of place, so get ready to enlarge your piece of wood," said Severus, "One ... two ... three!"

Still holding the wood from below, he slid the cracked and crumpled box support away from Evelyn. Like lightening her wand slashed through the air, and the new box made of wood expanded another foot, filling the space where Severus had slid away the supports. The trembling in the tunnel wall stopped, the earth above secure once more.

Severus vanished the splintered wood with a sweep of his wand, and the two of them sunk to their knees, facing each other in the barely illuminated tunnel.

"We cannot keep going like this," said Severus, shaking his head. "We can reinforce all we want, but if the wood isn't thick and strong enough not to crack ... it is useless."

"Are you sure you cannot conjure better wood?"

Severus shook his head, panting and dismayed. "I can make wood appear better than it is, and look dense and strong, but I cannot change its true strength. So even if I were to magically alter the wood I conjure, like the way I do with chairs, it will do us no good. The harder the wood, the more difficult to conjure out of air. I'm ... only powerful enough to conjure a soft pine, and only so thick."

"It's alright; we'll just keep working around it. It will be fine."

Severus nodded, and Evelyn tried to smile to reassure him, but she could not. The panic and terror in his eyes was evident, and it was clear that he too was trying to keep from falling apart.

"You don't have to be so strong for my sake," she said to him softly, taking his rough hand in her small one, the grime making their hands hard to see in the dim light. "I don't know how this is going to end either."

He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, and then opened them.

"Let's keep digging," he said, a small tremor in his voice, almost unnoticeable. He squeezed her hand with his. "How many feet left, did you say?"

"One hundred sixty."

They were set to be done part way through tomorrow, and the break-in would be that night. Evelyn felt her stomach pinch with fear at the thought of it. She knew the plan. She knew the layout of the building, but still they had not decided what to do with McTavish and his friends once they got them together. As the digging continued her panic spiked. What had she gotten herself into? How many people would she help murder the next day? Both she and Severus knew that was the outcome, but they feared to speak it. Despite their lack of discussion, Evelyn was quickly realizing that this was going to be the price for the freedom of the wizarding world. In the midst of her panic, and with the thought of a lifetime of guilt over those who had perished at her hand, she caught herself wondering how much she wanted to pay.

***

Day 12

5:25 PM

"Stop digging!" called Severus, his voice a mixture of panic and excitement as he held his wand up high in the darkness of the tunnel. "We are right below the second signalling device!"

"Up?" she asked, staring over her shoulder at him, her wand lowered.

"Up."

This part was dirtier. Evelyn's eyes got bits of dust and grime in them as she carefully swirled her wand, bits of earth raining down. They had had to lower the elevation of the tunnel in the last section so that they were below the catacombs, and now they had to bridge the gap. Severus reinforced the entranceway to the shaft as she dug, and when there was enough dirt she kicked it out from beneath her and toward him. He scooped it up with a bucket and vanished the contents, doing this again and again as the dirt piled up. Eventually they got so that a step was needed for Evelyn to keep digging up, and Severus conjured a wide, flat pine board. Evelyn cut out a small section in the shaft and wedged the wood in with a few securing spells. She stepped up onto this and continued to dig. They put three more of these in before Severus spoke.

"With your hands now," he said quickly, wand still aloft. "The signal is very strong. We are too close to the surface to use magic."

Severus scooped away the dirt that fell while Evelyn's hand scrabbled at the earth above him. It was loose in places, but after a while became hard and packed. Evelyn gasped as a stone was dislodged and fell down. She dodged it, but immediately thought of Severus below. She looked down to see if he was alright. He was panting against the tunnel shaft, the rock at his feet.

"Did the stone hit you?" Evelyn asked anxiously.

"No," said Severus, knees shaking badly. "And that ... that isn't a stone Evelyn."

"Then what is it?"

"It is a skull."

"But it's too small to be ..." She gasped suddenly, putting her filthy hand to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears.

Severus looked up at her, his eyes wide. It was the skull of a child.

"I think we found the catacombs," he said to her in a whisper.

Evelyn reached her arm up through the pitch darkness. There was no earth. It was air. Musty, stinking air that rushed in on her, cooler than the tunnel air.

"Should we go up?" whispered Evelyn, trying not to let the fear in her voice show.

"Just for a moment, to make sure it is safe for later," said Severus, sounding as though he did not like the idea. "Do you want me to go first?"

His voice was soft and gentle when he asked her, like a whisper in the wind.

"Yes," she muttered.

"Alright. Come down then."

Carefully she descended, and they shuffled around in the shaft so that he was standing where the ladder was. With determination, he grabbed a hold of the wood rungs and went up further. He widened the hole just a little, and then he waited for Evelyn to levitate the jar with the flames up to him. Its dim light would not give them away, hopefully.

Evelyn watched Severus slide out of the shaft and into the room. She climbed up when his foot disappeared from view. His hand reached down into the hole to help her up, the little jar of flames off to the side. With a soft grunt, he lifted her out of the shaft.

"Shall we take a look?" she asked nervously, trying not to breathe in through her nose, for the air was putrid.

Severus swallowed, nodding. He picked up the tiny jar of flames and held it aloft, casting a spell to make them a little bit larger. He stumbled back, almost dropping the jar.

Evelyn covered her mouth immediately, tears rushing to her eyes. They had arrived in the right place. It was indeed a side chamber like Harry had described, although it was not exactly as they had expected. He had left something out.

"We have to get him!" Severus said, his voice cracking unexpectedly as he rushed forward. She had never heard him sound like this before, and it increased her own fear tenfold.

"No!" Evelyn said, trying to keep her voice down as she grabbed Severus from behind and forced herself to keep a cool head, even though her instincts screamed for her to go get Harry too. She let out a soft sob. "We can't, we can't! We'll just get caught! Our only hope to get Harry is to go at night! It will be impossible to do it in the middle of the day!"

Severus struggled for a moment, but Evelyn tightened her arms around his chest.

"But -" he gasped, shaking from head to toe as he glanced around wildly. "Look ... they're ... l-like Harry ... Harry ..."

"Severus, I know, but we have no choice," she said, trying to stay rational as she shook with suppressed emotion at the sight of all of the children, lying silently in their graves. Those children, who were once the hopes and dreams of their families. She tried not to think about what would happen if Harry joined them.

Wordlessly steadying each other, they stepped back toward the hole in the floor of the catacombs. Severus sunk to the ground once they were down the shaft, his face in his hands. With magic she duplicated one of the boards that made up the ladder, for she could not conjure boards from the air like Severus could. She altered its size with a quick charm, and adhered a sprinkle of earth onto the top of it with a sticking charm to camouflage it. With a wave of her wand it spread out into the shape of the hole, strong and stable, and waiting to be removed that night.

So it was with shaking legs that the two of them defied every instinct, and walked the twelve thousand and five feet they had dug with magic from below Evelyn's home, the place where they emerged, dirt streaked faces riddled with fear. Despite their terror, Evelyn knew that right then they could not afford to fall apart. They had counted on these last few hours to solidify the plan, and go over it once last time. And then the break-in would begin.

7:10 PM

"Harry," whispered a soft voice, but Harry did not answer.

He opened his eyes as he lay in McTavish's spare room, the bread he had been given for the day untouched. The windowless room was getting dark as the candle slowly died. Harry watched it flickering from the floor, a cold sweat sticking his hair to his flushed cheek. A little bit of light from under the locked door mixed with the yellow pool of light from the candle. He had been trying to sleep the day away, but his shoulder was hot and painful, and he had been having difficulty ignoring it.

"Harry ..."

The voice was there again. It was familiar to him, and Harry could not determine whether it was in his head or if there really was someone, or something, in the room with him. Every so often he saw a shadow in the corner, yet, it did not possess an air of danger to it. In fact, whatever it was seemed to be trying to comfort him. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the world spin beneath him. In the space of time during which his tired eyes were closed, he felt something upon his hot forehead. It was cool, like a hand that was not sick with fever.

Harry's eyes snapped open despite the waves of fatigue washing over him.

"He'll come, I promise," said the voice again. Illuminated by the candlelight, Harry thought he saw a flash of red, but it was not vivid like the blood that first come from his shoulder before it clotted over. This red was softer. It reminded him of someone, but before he could remember who, he closed his eyes and fell into a feverish sleep at last

***

Day 12

7:10 PM

"Severus?" muttered Evelyn, stirring her tea thoughtfully despite the fact that it was doing nothing to calm her nerves.

"Yes?" he asked, lifting his mug to his lips, looking exhausted from their going over of the plan.

"Remember when you said I could go back with you ... to the future, I mean?" she asked cautiously.

"I do," he said, lowering the mug without taking a sip, studying her.

"Does the offer still stand?"

"Of course it does, Evelyn," he said, looking intrigued.

"I want to come with you," she said in a rush. "I'm scared, but I'm ready for a new life. I - I wanted to from the moment you asked, because this place ... here, now ... it's all wrong. Only ghosts remain here for me. You've seen my world, and ... maybe it's time I see yours."

Severus' face lit up so suddenly that Evelyn might have missed the change had she blinked. The lines on his face relaxed, and his eyes actually lit up as the years fell from his face.

"Really? You ... you want to come back with me?"

"With all my heart," Evelyn said, feeling herself blush with happiness. She chuckled a little bit and then said as an afterthought, "Quite honestly, I wanted to come back with you the first time you were back in time. It isn't often that handsome strangers show up in one horse towns, you know."

In a flash Severus had gotten up from his chair and pulled her up into his arms. He was laughing, and she couldn't help but laugh too in delighted astonishment. The happiness of this moment was such a stark contrast from the pain and fear they had been living with every day. Their lips met, and when they finally parted, Evelyn and Severus stood in the middle of the cottage, arms entwined, breathing with each other.

"You know, at times you remind me of someone I knew once," muttered Evelyn after a long time, thinking of the way Severus had laughed, the sharp suddenness of the sound, and yet so filled with warmth. "You see ... there's a reason why I never married, like young women are supposed to."

"And why is that?" asked Severus curiously, pulling way just a little bit to survey her.

"There was a boy ... years ago, when I was fourteen," said Evelyn, lost in thought, amazed she was bringing this up. "He was a bit like you. His name was Daniel. Oh, he used to make me laugh ... Our fathers knew each other, and it was agreed that we would be married in a few years. I was lucky then. Not everyone got to marry the boy they loved."

"And then everything went wrong, didn't it?" muttered Severus heavily into her hair.

"Yes," said Evelyn, leaning into Severus for comfort, her words almost a whisper "Everything went wrong. There was an awful sickness that swept across the countryside. A lot of people ... a lot of people died. "

Evelyn let out a heavy sigh.

"We buried him at the top of the little hill on his father's land," she muttered, years dulling the pain, and yet somehow she felt for a moment as though she was fourteen again, watching the sun set on the boy she had loved so very much. "He liked that hill."

"I had no idea," muttered Severus, tightening his arms around her.

"Well, it isn't one of those things that comes up in regular conversation," said Evelyn. "And already it has been thirteen years. Maybe the reason why I like being around you so much is because there are some things about you that remind me of him."

Gently, Evelyn extracted herself from Severus' arms and stood back, studying him. Severus did not speak, but waited for her to continue, looking pensive.

"This probably sounds silly, but while your similarities to Daniel make me like you, I think that it is all of the ways in which you are different that make me love you, Severus."

"It's not silly," he said softly, his voice low.

The tightness in Evelyn's shoulders relaxed for a moment, though she was not entirely aware of this.

"Evelyn, I have to tell you something as well," said Severus suddenly, a shadow flitting across his face ... was if fear? "I have to tell you about my past. There are things about me you do not know, but need to. I should have said so from the start ... but ... these things don't come up in regular conversation either, I am afraid."

"What sorts of things?" Evelyn asked, curious, and honestly a little worried.

"It is a long story," he muttered, sinking into the chair, no longer looking youthful. Instead, he looked a man that had lived hundreds of years of sorrow. It worried Evelyn to see that the mere thought of something could age a man so much.

"I'm listening," she said softly, taking the seat opposite him, partly fearful of what she might hear.

So Severus began.

"The year that I first went to Hogwarts was the start of a turbulent time. A dark wizard was rising in power, and he went by the name Lord Voldemort ..."

His words came faster, and the tale spun in that little house seemed too great and terrible to be held in such a small space. Evelyn wondered how Severus had been able to hold it inside. The things said were painful to hear, but after a while what caught her attention most was Severus' eyes. Over and over she saw them fill with sorrow and regret as he spilled his story - a tale of regret, betrayal, and fear; of foolish dreams wished for all the wrong reasons, and a boy who say no way out. He talked himself into silence, and both of them did not speak for some time, and as she digested the information, Evelyn finally began to see why Severus seemed so undecided on his treatment of Harry.

The look in his eyes haunted her, for it reminded her of the cold, terrified feeling she had experienced after she had killed McTavish. It was regret in its purest form, the kind that could destroy you if you were not careful. So Evelyn went over all the things she could say in her head, trying to come up with the words she needed to say.

"I am afraid I am not the man you think I am," said Severus at long last, now unable to meet her eyes. "If you wish not to come back with me, then you do not have to."

"Severus," muttered Evelyn carefully, finally having come up with the words to tell him what she wanted, "It was some time ago that I first suspected your past was dark ... but at that moment I made the decision to judge you for who you are now, not who you used to be. Yes ... you have made mistakes, awful mistakes, but you've done everything in your power to undo as much damage as possible.

"Harry forgave you for what your part in the prophecy, you said yourself. Whatever makes you think I cannot get past what an eleven year old boy could? I still want to come back with you. There is good in you, and you may not see it, but I do. Besides, not a soul in the world has not made an awful mistake, or been a bad person at some point in their lives. The difference is that you changed."

Severus looked up when she finished, and she was shocked to see his eyes were wet.

"What's wrong?" she asked before she could stop herself, worried she had said something she should not have. Was it just the fact that they were both so tired, or had this really moved Severus so much that he genuinely was on the verge of tears? Evelyn was not sure, but she listened intently for his answer.

Severus hastily wiped his eyes on his sleeve and said in a rather stuffy voice, not daring to meet her eyes, "Nothing ... I am just not ... not used to being forgiven. People judge me a great deal, before they even know me."

"I think we both know a lot of that," she mumbled a little darkly, feeling a pang of sorrow, for both her and Severus.

"I'm glad you are coming back with me," he said, his voice barely a whisper as his gaze met hers. He paused for a moment and then continued, sounding a little amused this time. "Harry will be glad too, you know. He spent hours and hours in the Library looking for traces of you and Ellery in history books. He is so persistent."

"You have to tell him the real reason for you not speaking to him for so long," she said to him plainly now that the subject of Harry had come up. "It won't be easy, but he needs to hear it."

"I know," said Severus, looking downcast. "If that tunnel hadn't fallen in I would have. Maybe it is better this way. I can tell him when we return, once we are all safe. It still will not be easy, though."

"Is anything in life?" asked Evelyn to nobody in particular, looking over at the trapdoor, to the box on the shelf that still held Ellery's wand, and finally to the place on her finger where the simple wooden ring Daniel had once carved her for their engagement used to sit. Her mind wandered for a moment to where it still likely sat - in a little bag of her most important belongings at her empty, old home, waiting in the place that she had meant to return to before fleeing town, her hands stained with the blood of Blaine McTavish.

She tore her thoughts from this, and looked at Severus. He too met her gaze. They stared deep into each other's eyes. It was at that moment that Evelyn's heart finally departed from that little hilltop with the weathered stone marker - the marker that rested over her hopes and dreams. Yet, no longer was this the case, for her hopes and dreams now sat before her, breathing, living. It was a feeling she had thought she would never have again. She wondered if Severus saw the same thing before him ... if he too was seeing the light after the darkness. In an instant, in the way his eyes lit up, in the crooked little smile that played about his face, she knew that he was.

Day 13

12:01 AM

They had everything they needed, and they were prepared. Evelyn was sure of it. Severus had the phial of powder, which they would open once they returned to the house one last time. It was their meeting place, and they were to return there should they get separated. Protective enchantments had been put upon it by Severus so that in case their location was found out, and the tunnel discovered, they would have some defence while they waited. The charmed parchment and anything that might reveal magical secrets and lead to them had been destroyed. These things she went over in her head, trying to calm her nerves.

"Are you ready?" asked Severus, hand in hand with Evelyn as they stared down the trapdoor.

"I am if you are," said Evelyn, the plan racing through her head as she made sure she knew all that they had solidified in the last few hours.

(Disillusionment charms, down the tunnel, out of the catacombs, up to the third floor. Break into McTavish's quarters - either by knocking and putting him in a full body bind- or with a bombardment charm. The latter not preferred - silencing charms not foolproof. Vanish potions, ingredients, notes and everything in the lab - and hope that nothing was missed. At the same time determine Harry's location and confirm the names of those involved with potion via legilimency - Severus' job. Put McTavish under imperius curse and force him to summon his accomplices to an emergency meeting. Kill them. Transfigure bodies into something small enough to vanish easily. Prepare to get Harry out once main dangers have passed. Sneak out before anyone can notice what has happened. Seal the tunnel, leave no traces, use the powder, disappear off the face of the earth for the next three hundred and eighty-some years.)

"For luck," muttered Severus, and met her lips with his, and she could tell he too never wanted to pull away.

With no further words, they melted into the background with the aid of disillusionment charms. Severus went down into the tunnel first, and just before she descended as well, Evelyn cast a spell on the fire to put it out. The soft hiss of the light dying made her shiver slightly, the darkness reaching out for her as she slid down the ladder and closed the trapdoor in place above them. The fearful silence pressed in on them as they hurried along the tunnel, bent double and travelling from pool of light to pool of light, the small jars illuminating the way.

Evelyn's peripheral vision kept track of the thin pine boards holding up the tunnel in places, taking note of the point where the spacing grew wider, fearing that she would hear a fatal crackling, followed by the thunder of earth. Despite her worries, this did not happen, and after what had felt like minutes and yet years, Severus halted, and started to climb up. Evelyn snuffed out the jar closest to the opening, and above she could hear Severus mutter a spell to remove the board she had expanded to fill the hole. The smell of death poured into the tunnel, and Evelyn's eyes watered as she looked up the tunnel shaft to see the dim outline of Severus' boot disappear into the room above.

He was there, waiting for her to emerge, and helped her to fit the board back into the hole until the time had come for them to return, if they did indeed use the tunnel. Apparition was always a possibility if they were able to get outside of the Potioneer's Society.

Evelyn felt terror grip her heart as they ventured out of the little room, turning the way that Severus' ‘point me' spell had told them was west. She was greatly relieved to find that the catacombs were indeed mostly a straight line, as Harry said, and within fifteen minutes they had reached the set of steps that led to the fresh air. Cautiously, Severus led the way up them, his wand no longer emitting light so as not to give them away. Evelyn kept a few fingers clasped on the edge of his cloak to keep herself oriented. A shuffling noise echoed through the corridor, and they threw themselves against a wall, the disillusionment charms allowing them to blend in.

The two stood stock still, and after a moment or two a tiny house-elf carrying an enormous stack of laundry bustled down the corridor and into the laundry room a little ways ahead. He did not see the both of them, but only after they had crept past the laundry room did they breathe, for the silence in the building was deafening. Evelyn had to remind herself this was probably the norm, considering the age of many of the researchers. It unnerved her, however, and everything seemed to be going far too well when they arrived at McTavish's door, having met nobody on their way.

Severus prepared to subdue McTavish, and Evelyn knocked on the door, silencing charms already in place along the corridor. After a few repeated knocks a thin strip of light beneath the door appeared. A few seconds more, and the handle turned, the door swinging inward, away from them. There stood McTavish, looking wretched and annoyed in a dressing gown.

"What the bloody -"

With fire in his eyes and a snarl about his face Severus' wand cut through the shadows, the incantation sounding like the hiss of a snake.

"Petrificus totalus!"

McTavish hit the ground with a crash, and Evelyn prayed that their silencing charms were doing the trick. Severus levitated McTavish through the office and into the lab, the man's beady eyes staring angrily up at them.

Evelyn took his wand, and Severus waved his own so that ropes sprung up around McTavish. He then undid the body bind curse, and towered over him, wand trained on his head.

"Where is the boy?" Severus spat, hatred written across his face.

McTavish struggled, refusing to answer.

"Legilimens."

Evelyn watched in rapt fascination as Severus' brows furrowed with concentration, his wand flicking minutely. The spell lifted, leaving McTavish panting on the floor, swearing at Severus at the top of his lungs. His voice was silenced in an instant. This was of Evelyn's doing.

He's in the spare room," said Severus mutinously, panting a little, his voice softening as he looked to Evelyn. "The door is concealed behind the bookcase. Go to Harry, I can take it from here."

Evelyn rushed toward the bookcase, Severus' words to McTavish audible to her.

"Didn't like when I was in your head, did you?" hissed Severus to him. "Then tell me if the following people know of the potion. Geoffrey Waters - does he know?"

McTavish did not speak a word, but let out a yelp of pain when Severus stomped on his foot to prompt him.

"N-No," was the stuttered reply.

"Liar."

Evelyn succeeded in budging the heavy bookcase, which revealed a doorway. Severus' words were no longer audible to her when she entered the room. Clearly there was a silencing charm in place.

"Lumos maxima!" cried Evelyn.

The ball of light reached the ceiling, and Evelyn gasped. Harry was lying on the ground, his hair sticking to his face from sweat, his cheeks flushed. But it was his shoulder that drew Evelyn's attention. There was a yellowing gash that was oozing pus, and Evelyn put her sleeve to her mouth, for the room smelled awful, like urine, and the faint underlying scent of something rotting. Careful not to knock over the bucket by the door, she hurried to Harry's side.

"Harry, wake up," said Evelyn, holding back tears as her hand met his feverish forehead. "Please ..."

He did not stir, but he had to be alive. He was burning up.

"Harry honey, you have to wake up," she said, kneeling over him, letting the tears fall from her eyes. One landed on Harry's cheek and he stirred, and after a moment he opened his eyes. Beneath his glasses she could see that they were glazed over with fever, and he stared unblinkingly to his left side, away from where Evelyn sat on his right.

"Evelyn, who's that woman?" Harry asked dazedly, still not looking at her.

"What woman, Harry?" Evelyn whispered, terrified.

"The one across from you," Harry muttered. "She's real pretty. I think I know her."

"Shh," Evelyn whispered, her tears splashing down as she tried to keep it together. Carefully, she pulled from her pocket a set of potions phials Severus had suggested they bring. This one had a fever reducer, as well as Dittany, but Evelyn knew from experience some wounds needed more than Dittany to heal. The one on Harry's shoulder had been left untreated too long, and would require more complex magic to heal.

"Drink this, Harry."

She held the fever reducer to his lips, and he swallowed it obediently. He coughed and spluttered, but after a few moments he calmed down.

Evelyn knew it was working when Harry's eyes returned to her.

"What was that?" Harry asked tiredly as Evelyn felt his forehead. It had reduced his fever significantly, enough so that he would be well enough to get out of the Potioneer's Society.

"It was a fever reducer," said Evelyn tiredly. "Do you feel less dizzy?"

"Yes," Harry muttered, seeming to become fully aware of what was going on, unlike he had been before.

"Harry, what happened?"

"Don't tell Professor Snape, please," Harry whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

"I might have to, if we are to treat that shoulder of yours."

"He must be so d-disappointed in me."

"He feels guilty, actually," Evelyn said, brushing Harry's sweaty hair from his eyes.

"He does?" Harry asked, eyes wide.

She nodded.

"I followed McTavish," Harry told her suddenly. "I had plenty of time to get back to the Potioneer's Society, and I just had to do something b-because I didn't know what was happening to you two, because Snape just s-stopped writing and - and ..."

"And what?"

"And I wanted to impress him with lots of information when he came to get me, so ... so he would think I was worth paying attention to." Harry sighed. "Please, please don't tell him the last part!"

"Alright," said Evelyn, trying to calm him. "But I do not think he finds you disappointing, Harry. He feels very bad for the way he treated you. Just ask him. You'll see."

"Is he here too?" Harry whispered, closing his eyes as Evelyn ran her fingers through his hair.

"Yes. He is just outside, getting McTavish to summon his accomplices.

"What are you doing to them?" whispered Harry.

Evelyn's hand wavered, but she continued to stroke his hair. She did not answer, and did not have to, for Severus came barrelling through the door. He slid to a halt by Harry and fell to his knees on his left side, across from Evelyn.

"Oh hell, what did they do to you?" Snape croaked, the blood draining from his face as he looked at the infected wound. Evelyn looked at him questioningly, and he seemed to read her mind. "McTavish is unconscious. I put him under the imperius to get him to send letters to his accomplices. Harry, what happened?"

"I followed McTavish, and one of his friends grabbed a knife and cut my shoulder," Harry said simply, shaking slightly. "I had to sneak out anyway to meet you, and I was sure I'd have time to get back to the Society."

"That was an idiotic, stupid, foolish thing to do!" Severus said sharply. Though it was clearly worry that made him say it, Harry did not react well.

"I'm sorry!" Harry said with a sob, tears running down his face.

"I had better go make sure McTavish stays put," said Evelyn, sensing it was her time to leave.

Harry paid hardly any attention, but sat up gingerly and put his face on his knees, crying because he had had enough. Days of being in pain and locked in the darkness had finally caught up to him.

"Do you know how worried I was?" Snape said, sounding stressed as he put his arms under Harry's armpits and dragged him to his shaky feet. He brushed him off slightly, and fished in his pocket for a rather dirt-streaked handkerchief. "I waited hours for you to show."

Harry just shrugged and suppressed another sob, taking the handkerchief gratefully.

Snape knelt down slightly, so that his eyes were level with Harry's. Snape's hand, which rested on Harry's good shoulder, shook slightly when Harry looked up at him.

"I thought you were gone for sure," croaked Snape. "I am getting you out of here as soon as I can, alright?"

Harry nodded, and Snape's eyes left his, and he walked to the door.

"Come on, Potter," said Snape gruffly.

Harry looked at his feet and stumbled after Snape, wondering if Snape's hands had shaken because he had seen James Potter's son staring back at him.

When they left the spare room they found McTavish lying on the floor in the lab, and Snape led Harry over to a chair, which Harry took gratefully, for his shoulder was throbbing and despite the fever reducer he felt rather weak.

"Alright Potter, stay."

Harry was not tempted to move from the chair, and the three of them waited in silence, not daring to speak. Evelyn brought Harry a glass of water to sip on.

There was a knock on the door, and Harry stood up on instinct, having been the one to get the door at the Dursley household for years.

"Stay," hissed Snape, and Harry threw himself into the chair, suddenly annoyed he could not see what was going on.

He watched as Evelyn and Snape went into the small office, and opened the door. Harry heard the soft rattle of the handle, and then a thud. Wide eyed, Harry watched as they dragged in the man who had caught Harry.

"That's Geoffrey," said Harry suddenly. "He was the one who cut me."

Snape waved his wand so that ropes bound Geoffrey as well, and then released him from the body bind. Evelyn stood back for a moment, and Harry continued to watch Snape. His shoulders were oddly squared, and before Harry knew what was happening Snape had hauled Geoffrey up by the collar and slammed him against the wall, holding the struggling man with strength Harry had not known he had. Snape did not say a word, but stared into Geoffrey's eyes. Geoffrey let out a low chuckle. He was stopped mid laugh by Snape's fist delivering one quick, sharp blow. Harry and Evelyn stared open mouthed as Snape pitched Geoffrey back to the ground. Geoffrey spluttered, and he spat out a tooth on the floor. Not looking at him, Snape cast the body bind on Geoffrey again, and then wiped the blood off his knuckles. Before Harry or Evelyn found any words, he had marched out of the lab as another knock on the door sounded, acting as though what he had done was as ordinary as asking someone to tea.

Stunned, Evelyn hurried after him, and when they had returned with the unconscious form of another man, and tied him up too, Harry had regained the power of speech.

"Sir -"

"Later, Potter."

So Harry fell silent, amazed at what had happened, staring at the dribble of blood leaking from the side of Geoffrey's mouth. Perhaps Snape did not dislike him as much as he had thought.

Three more men joined McTavish and Geoffrey on the floor, having ended up there in the same manner as the others that had been ambushed.

"Look what I found," said Snape gratefully, holding up a small phial of clear liquid from a cupboard he had been rummaging in.

"What is it?" Evelyn asked.

"Veritaserum."

"What?"

"It makes the drinker tell the truth," said Snape. "We can get McTavish to tell us where all his research is, so we can destroy it. It will be far easier to use than legilimency, or the cruciatus, even if the bastard deserves it."

"Do it," said Evelyn. "We cannot afford to miss anything."

Harry watched intently as Snape poured three drops into McTavish's mouth, and waved his wand to unfreeze him from the body bind. McTavish blinked for a few moments, looking dazed as he stared at Snape, kneeling at his side.

"What is the location of all of your research for the potion you created to sterilize people of their magic?" hissed Snape.

McTavish grinned rather drunkenly.

"In this room, under the floorboard by the window there is a box that holds the original papers. There are magical copies of my research and the recipe in all of the quarters of my research partners' labs, hidden in false drawers in their wardrobes. There's also one more back-up copy in Gregory Peakes' quarters, which I hid, rolled up in a hollowed out section in the window sill, just in case we needed to frame him."

"And these two cauldrons are the only two that contain the potion?" Snape asked, seeming slightly panicked at the numerous copies of research.

"Yes," he breathed.

"Is that all of the evidence of the potion in question?"

"Yes."

Snape waved his wand, and McTavish froze once more.

Snape stood up, looking ghostly.

"We have not got the time or manpower to track down the five copies of the research," Evelyn said, eyes wide. "It's already two in the morning. It could take us hours to get it all together and destroy it. And, the more we are out and about, the greater chance we're caught."

Snape frowned.

"But we have to destroy it all. If any of it is found, ever, all our work will have been for naught." Snape ran his hand through his hair, brow furrowed with thought as he paced back and forth in the lab.

"You could send me to get the research," said Harry suddenly.

"No!" said both Evelyn and Snape in perfect unison, not even aware of how funny their reaction might have been under different circumstances.

Harry bowed his head, quashing the sudden urge to laugh. He regained seriousness quickly, however, for he was sure that he could get to the research if the let him.

"It is far too dangerous, for any of us to go," Evelyn explained gently.

"But -" Harry began.

"No," said Evelyn firmly. "Severus, you agree, right?"

She looked over at Snape, who had stopped in this middle of his pacing, his hand halfway through his hair. His mouth was wide open. He looked almost comical.

"Severus?"

He let loose an impressive stream of curse words, but Harry heard only half of them, for Evelyn clamped her hands round his ear to muffle the sound, much to his annoyance; he wouldn't have minded picking up a few good ones in the hopes of besting even Ron's impressive arsenal of swears. When Snape finally stopped swearing, he backed up and sat down heavily on a large, upturned cauldron.

Evelyn removed her hands, and Harry could hear again.

"What, what is it?" she asked hastily, and Harry could hear the tremor in her voice.

"It is the thirteenth of June," he said hoarsely, "of the year 1613."

"Yes, time flies," she said impatiently. "What's so bad about that?"

"No, no, not bad exactly ..."

Harry looked at Evelyn, and it was clear she did not know what he was going on about either.

"Shit," muttered Snape under his breath. "My mother's going to roll in her grave over this."

"Over what? Severus you're scaring me. And enough language, Harry's with us."

"I don't min-" began Harry, thinking of Uncle Vernon, but Evelyn put her hand on his good shoulder and he fell silent.

Snape shook his head slightly, and looked at Evelyn.

"Send the boy out," Snape suggested before turning to Harry. "Sorry Potter, this is not for your ears. Besides, what we have to do will only take a few moments."

Harry felt a surge of annoyance, and then foreboding, but he nodded his head when he saw the urgency in Snape's eyes.

"Harry, do you know of a place out in the corridor where you can stay out of sight?" Evelyn asked, voice shaking slightly.

"There's a tapestry," Harry said. "I can hide behind that."

"Alright, go out into the corridor then," said Evelyn. "We will join you in a few minutes."

"Here, before you go," muttered Snape, leaning over and tapping Harry on the head with his wand. Harry felt something cold run down his neck, and he looked at his hands. They seemed to blend in with his surroundings. "That should camouflage you a little bit. We will meet you in about five minutes.

Harry stood up, and Evelyn escorted him to the door, paying attention to where he went, and shutting the door once she was sure he was safe and well hidden.

She went back into the room, heart pounding, and looked to Severus for answers.

"Remember that history book I brought?" he said rather hoarsely.

"Yes," she said slowly.

"Well, there are a lot of other books on the Potioneer's Society, and I've read just about all of them. There are entire chapters devoted to the delays that forced the Society to shut down for periods of time, and thus disrupt research. Things like plague outbreaks, for example. Of course, it also includes other disasters, and one of those was a fire. And it happened on the thirteenth of June, 1613."

"You mean, we're the ones that -"

"Yes," Severus said with a grimace. "It's the perfect solution to this. A damn good fire will destroy all of the evidence. We can leave McTavish and his accomplices in the body bind so they can't escape. We cannot risk them waking from stunning curses and escaping the ropes, even if it would be a little less awful to let them be unconscious for the ordeal, but one cannot be picky in this sort of situation. The smoke will knock them out first anyway."

Evelyn too sat down.

"We don't have to kill them directly then," she whispered, grasping for strings.

Severus nodded, looking pale and sick at the thought.

"Let's get going then," muttered Evelyn before she could get cold feet. "We had best start the fire now."

Severus agreed, and went over to the cupboard and rummaged through it.

"Why will your mother roll in her grave?" Evelyn questioned, sure there was something more to the statement than just atrocity of committing arson.

With a rather wry smile Severus replied, "She dreamt for years of an acceptance letter from the Potioneer's Society, the modern establishment, of course. They finally had a spot for her the year she died. I had to write back and tell them they were too late. Mum put off applying for a long time because she had me. By the time I had grown up, it was too late."

"I'm sorry to hear."

Severus jerked his head slightly, and then they got to work.

Evelyn used magic to arrange the five men so that they were sitting with their backs to each other. She waved her wand in the air, and a rope wound around them tightly, just in case they should wake. She made sure they were still unconscious after, and she looked up to see Severus holding a big brown glass jug of something.

"Paraffin Oil," he said. Severus looked at Evelyn for a moment, then at McTavish, and his jaw hardened. He upended the jug and began to pour it across the wood floor, over the lab benches and the stacks of paper, the furniture and anything that would burn. The glugging and splashing seemed like thunder in the silence of the night.

"Vanish the potions, will you?" Severus said, nodding toward the cauldrons, which were still bubbling away.

Evelyn did exactly that, and banished the cauldrons for good measure. As she did so, she noticed a bottle of whiskey on a shelf nearby. She too began to douse stacks of papers. The place was packed full of books and research, and she wondered how the building had not gone up before.

Severus tapped his wand on the brown jug, and it filled again with oil. Evelyn did the same with the whiskey. Side by side, they poured along the floor as they exited through the office, backing their way out. At last, at the door, Severus' jug was empty. He set it on the desk, and asked Evelyn to hand him the half empty bottle of whiskey. He grabbed a spare handkerchief, and he stuffed it in the top.

"Incendio," he said, igniting the cloth. "Ready?"

Evelyn nodded, hand on the doorknob. Severus pitched it across the room where it shattered, and the second before they barrelled out of the doorway Evelyn caught sight of the blanket of fire that burst into existence by the window. They shut the door to McTavish's office.

Harry heard the sound of the door shutting, and peered out into the corridor to see Snape and Evelyn rushing toward him, running like the wind. Snape snagged Harry's hand and pulled him along too. He felt Snape's wand tap him on the head, and warmth seemed to rush over him, making him visible once more.

"What did you do?" Harry asked, panicking and gesturing behind them.

"Started the place on fire," Snape said to him, "now hurry before it spreads. The place is drenched with Paraffin Oil."

Harry halted, making the others stop too. He spun around and ran in the other direction, where he could see the flames already crawling across the wood floor from under the door McTavish's quarters, probably having followed the trail of oil.

"Potter!" hissed Snape, running after him, but Harry did not stop to explain.

Harry wrenched open the door to Mr. Peakes' quarters, and ran into the man's bedroom.

"Sir, it's a fire, you have to get out!" he said, waking the old man. Snape ran into the room too as Mr. Peakes was stirring. Harry let out a cry of shock as Snape scooped him up and started to sprint into the corridor again. Mr. Peakes sprang out of bed just as they left the room and grabbed a broomstick by the end of the bed.

Harry struggled to escape Snape's strong arms, but his efforts were futile.

"When I put you down you had better run!" said Snape as the smoke filled the corridor, dodging the flames licking at his boots as they rapidly spread along the polished wood floors, the fuel having allowed it to spread unnaturally fast in the old building. As soon as they were clear of the flames Harry was set on his feet, and the two of them sprinted to where Evelyn stood at the end of the corridor. The flames were spreading quickly, and Harry hoped that Mr. Peakes had flown out of the window with the broom, for half the corridor was now up in flames, the old tapestries that lined the walls fuelling the inferno. The wood was old and dry, and an explosion rocked the ground as the three of them went down the staircase, some of the less tame ingredients in McTavish's lab having finally heated up enough. Harry slid down a few steps and was pulled to his feet by Evelyn so they could continue in their flight, smoke pouring down the steps like a river. Another explosion sounded, and suddenly there were people going up and down the stairs as they investigated the disturbance, running up from the levels below, where parts of the floor seemed to have rained down onto them from the explosions in McTavish's lab

"Fire!" shouted Evelyn to the people through the haze of smoke, everyone too caught up in shock to realize they should not have been there. Snape grabbed a hold of Harry's arm so as not to lose him in the crowd, and a great cracking noise was heard overhead. The explosions had weakened parts of the building overhead.

The crowd of people was thickening, and they were condensing as they backed up from the sparks raining down and the occasional crashing explosion ringing through the area. It was no surprise that the things found in potions labs were quite volatile, but whatever was exploding, it was helping the fire along.

"We'll never get through here," Harry said, knowing full well how many people lived at the Potioneer's Society. "If we go down just a little more we'll be at the first floor. At the end of the corridor there is a smaller side staircase that leads to the ground floor!"

"Great, let's take it!" shouted Snape over the roar of the fire, which seemed to have spread to the second floor as people poured out, crying to others that great pieces of the ceiling fell in from the corridor above.

Not once did Snape let go of Harry in the crowd, but it took them quite a long time just to get down one last set of stairs to the first floor, where people were running through the main corridor. It was less smoky here, but above the ceiling creaked as well. They had to walk here because doors were opening left and right, threatening to knock them over as people dashed out of the rooms, having finally realized that something was wrong now that the fire was only a floor above them.

Bits of ash and sparks had begun to drift down from the ceiling, and they tried to quicken the pace. Evelyn fell behind for a moment when a door swung open with great speed courtesy of an old man. She was almost hit.

"Get out of here!" cried the elderly man, frantically pointing up at the ceiling in his quarters with his cane, for it seemed to be drooping. "The fire must be bad above! It's only a matter of time until Kendrick's research goes! GO!"

"Who's Kendrick?" Snape asked Harry as they hurried to get as far away from the drooping ceiling as possible, and the old man ran as fast as his old legs could carry him in the other direction, doors still banging open.

"I'm not sure," said Harry, though he had a strange feeling he had heard the name before.

They took a few more steps down the corridor, and the suddenly Harry remembered who Kendrick was. Simon Kendrick. He had heard McTavish talk about him the other day, when boasting that his research was superior to Kendrick's.

"Kendrick researches potion based explosives!" shouted Harry, pushing Snape from behind to make him go faster. He looked over his shoulder to see where Evelyn was, seeing as she had been hindered by the door a while back, and as he did so everything suddenly seemed to go silent. Then the rattle of air being sucked into the corridor from the staircases on either end met Harry's ears. The seconds seemed to stretch forever, their movements slowed to a stuttering crawl, and though Evelyn was running it seemed to Harry like she was not getting any closer to them.

Harry backed up, and in what felt like slow motion saw the wave of Snape's wand over his head. Two glittering silver shields descended. One formed over Harry and Snape, and one over Evelyn, who was still a ways behind them. Harry felt the heat of Snape's body, and two arms encircling him as he was pushed down to the floor, and then a blinding flash of light stole his vision and the whole world seemed to shake. His watering eyes caught sight of the shield charm above as debris bounced off it, the silver light flickering. Harry could feel Snape's ragged breathing in his ear. Searing heat washed over him in waves, and the bright light receded.

Slowly, Snape lifted himself off of Harry. Harry's ears were ringing, and it took him some time to hear the shouting from across the wall of rock and burning debris that blocked the hallway. A haze of smoke rose in hissing clouds.

"Severus, Harry, are you alright?" cried the terrified voice of Evelyn from the other side.

The flickering shield charms died, and Snape, panting, seemed to hear the shouting too.

"We are fine!" he shouted back. "Are you alright, Evelyn?"

"Yes, but I'll never get over this! Even if I were to fly in my animagus form the flames are still too hot and high for my feathers to hold up! I will go another way, and meet you back at the house!"

Harry was alarmed by the worried look on Snape's face. His professor swallowed.

"Okay, be careful!"

"I will be! We should go now!"

"Alright!" he called back, but Harry was amazed to see that Snape did not seem to be moving at all.

"Come on sir, she'll be okay!" he said, grabbing his professor by the arm.

Snape appeared to come to his senses, and he turned on his heel, running the short distance to the tiny staircase that led down into a small corridor, which Harry knew would meet up with the entrance hall. The air was clearer here, and Harry's head started to feel less hazy. He still felt weak and sick however, but he was not sure if this was from the smoke or from his shoulder wound. The entrance hall was swarming with people fleeing the fire, and Evelyn could not be seen in the midst of it. She was likely still caught in the crowd on the staircase, trying to get to ground floor.

Harry led the way to the staircase that went down to the lowest level, and together he and Snape ran for their lives. The building moaned and creaked far above them, but the smoke was minimal where they were. It felt cool after the heat of the fire, and Harry was glad to be moving further away from it. Snape however seemed to be constantly looking back, and Harry ended up leading the way into the catacombs. He thundered down the stone staircase and threw open the door to the tunnels of the dead. The door was shut behind them by Snape, and the noise and screaming from above was drowned out. They travelled in silence for a while, until Snape broke it.

"Potter, why did you not tell me about what was in the side room down here?" he muttered as they continued down the catacombs, his wand held aloft. He was bent double behind Harry, the sound of his boots scraping the rocky ground echoing strangely. Snape sounded odd to Harry, like his voice wasn't quite working properly. Harry wondered if he was still suffering from inhaling all that smoke.

"I ... I didn't want to worry you, I guess," said Harry quietly, heart still pounding from the terror of what had happened.

"It is my job to worry. You should have said something. You really should have."

"I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted."

Harry fell silent as they walked along, wondering why Snape would bring that up now, of all times.

It seemed only moments until they reached the side room, and Harry averted his eyes from the wrapped bundles in the walls, trying to find the trapdoor. He could find no trace of it.

Snape knelt down and lifted the piece of camouflaged wood, which was a little ways to Harry's right.

"You first, Potter," said Snape, holding out his hands so that his palms faced up. "Give me your hands. It's a bit slippery."

Hesitantly, Harry put his hands in Snape's, which were hot from running and the fire. Harry stepped over to the hole, and Snape helped to lower him in so he could get his feet on the first block of wood along the tunnel shaft. Snape let go once Harry had gone down one rung, and had something to hold onto. At the bottom Harry found that there were little jars with flames in them inserted into the tunnel walls. He looked down to the end of the tunnel, which seemed to go on forever. In fact, he could not even see an end. In a moment he heard a crunching noise, indicating that Snape's boots had hit the rough surface of the ground. There was the clunk of the wood trapdoor being put back into place.

"Go on, Potter," said Snape when this was done, prodding Harry in the back.

Silently, they moved through the seemingly endless, cramped tunnel.

"If the tunnel starts to collapse, run as fast as you can toward the end, alright?" said Snape in Harry's ear, and Harry nodded. "After we learned that you had been captured - you can thank your friend Mr. Peakes for writing on your parchment and informing us- we had to reinforce less in order to increase the pace. We have had a few supports crack, and did have one a minor collapse the night you were captured, which was why I had to stop writing. I am sorry for that."

"It's alright sir," said Harry quietly.

They fell silent.

"Do you think Evelyn will take the tunnel?" Harry asked softly after a while.

"I believe she will try to apparate back to the house once she gets out of the building," muttered Snape. "It was our plan if we got separated, and she told me while we planned that if the way to the tunnel was obstructed she would just fly out of the building in her animagus form. She will have taken some time to get out of the crowd, so I doubt she would stay in the building to use the tunnel because of the fire. It would be too risky by the time she got down there."

"What if she gets trapped in the building?"

"She will be fine. Evelyn is very smart. She'll find a way."

Harry thought he heard Snape's voice shake despite his confident statements.

"How much further?" asked Harry some time later, for it felt like they had been travelling for an age.

"About sixty more feet, I would imagine," said Snape. "The wood reinforcements have been closer together for a while, thankfully."

Harry watched as they walked by, and sure enough, the boards holding up the tunnel walls and ceiling were not so far apart.

Snape's breathing seemed a little bit more relaxed now that they were in the safer part of the tunnel.

Harry thought he could see an end, and he quickened his pace. They were almost there, and Harry brushed a bit of sandy soil from his hair, which had trickled down from above.

A noise like a gunshot rang through the air, very close by.

"What was that?" cried Harry suddenly.

"RUN!" Snape shouted, and Harry heard a rumbling noise. He was stunned for a moment. They were in the safe part of the tunnel, weren't they?

Harry felt a push from behind and he sprinted as fast as he could for the exit. He heard more snapping noises behind him, as though one of the supports had gone, and the others were breaking from the extra weight. Without glancing behind him he sprinted the remaining twenty feet to the shaft. When he reached it, for a second Harry turned his head as he mounted the ladder. A mass of earth was coming down behind Snape, who was running for his life, eyes wide with terror. Boards were breaking left and right, bits of wood flying through the air as bits of rock and earth tumbled down. It was like a domino effect. One board split right above Snape, and he gave a strangled shout of shock.

"GO UP, GO UP!" he yelled to Harry, his voice sounding constricted with panic.

Harry wasted not a second more and sped up the ladder, throwing the trapdoor open above him. He threw himself onto the floor, and peered over the edge of the hole to see Snape coming up. He was pale as a sheet, and Harry reached a hand to grab the fabric of his cloak to help him up. Dust was swirling up from the tunnel, making the two of them cough, and as soon as Snape's boots had cleared the hole, Harry slammed the trapdoor closed.

Harry coughed and spluttered for air, sitting on the floor. Snape fell to his knees beside him, panting.

"Sir?" Harry asked faintly, noticing the way Snape was clutching his stomach. "Are you alright?"

Snape let out a soft moan, and then Harry saw the blood running from under his fingertips. Snape teetered dangerously, and Harry took his arm and helped him lie on the floor, trying to make sense of what had happened in a world of terror.

He pulled Snape's arms away, and what he saw nearly made him faint. A splinter of wood the size of a kitchen knife was sticking out of Snape's abdomen, along the right side. Seeing the grimace on his Professor's pale face, Harry reached over to pull it out, but Snape stopped his hand.

"It's ... got to ... stay in," Snape gasped in pain, eyes wide as his chest heaved. "I'll bleed to death if it comes out. It's the only thing plugging the wound, and I haven't got any blood replenisher."

"Sir, can't you fix it?" Harry asked, having trouble making himself heard.

"N-No," Snape said with a shudder, his whole body shaking. "Not this. It's too deep; there will be internal bleeding. Dittany won't help either. I was so panicked I only brought basic healing supplies back in time."

"B-But, you can fix anything!" Harry said on impulse, his voice breaking.

Snape almost smiled, but he took a gasping gulp of air, his body shuddering.

"I cannot, but a healer can. M-Magic can do wonderful things."

"We have to go back then, now," Harry said, not even trying to stop the tears from falling.

"We have to wait for Evelyn," grunted Snape.

"You'll die, sir!"

"Then I'll die!" Snape said with a kind of reckless abandon that scared Harry more than he could admit to himself.

"B-But, she'll understand if we don't say goodbye!" Harry cried, confused. Why was Snape being so stubborn? Evelyn would be okay.

"She's coming back with us."

"What? Why?"

Snape just shook his head, looking suddenly anguished.

"We have to use the powder now," whispered Harry, hating to say it. "It should work faster than last time, but who knows how much time it will take? Remember, Evelyn said it works until the magic takes us back to the future ... so we could save a little for her to use, and if she shows up before the powder takes us through time it should still work, right?"

"Correct," muttered Snape, looking thoughtful.

"Please, sir!" Harry cried, his voice breaking. "We have to use it! Evelyn doesn't want you to die for her!"

It took a moment, but Snape looked at Harry, and then with a shaking hand he pulled from the inside of his cloak a tiny phial.

Silently, he tried to open it. Harry took it when his shaking fingers could not pull the stopper out. Gently, Harry sprinkled a little bit of the shimmering blue dust over Snape, and then on himself. A shiver went down his spine, and Snape shuddered as well. Harry was careful to leave a tiny amount in the bottom of the phial, and put the stopper back in, hoping desperately that Evelyn would show up before the magic had become active enough to transport them.

Harry grabbed a ragged towel folded nearby and pressed it onto Snape's stomach, careful not to jar the large splinter. Snape's shaking hands held the towel there, and for a moment, he closed his eyes tightly. Harry let out a sigh, and because of this he almost did not hear the whispered words from Snape's lips, which clenched tightly together afterwards, as though he had not meant to utter them.

"Please, Evelyn," his hoarse voice had pleaded.

2:18 AM

Evelyn's heart pounded as she ran in the haze of smoke, Severus' voice still ringing through her ears. She prayed silently as she ran, hoping that Severus and Harry would be alright, that they would make it back to the house. As soon as she approached the spiral staircase, which was through the door on the right side of the long corridor, she knew that she would never get down it, for people were thundering down the stairs in hordes.

For a second panic almost overwhelmed her, but then she realized that did not need to use a staircase. Evelyn continued down the corridor instead, for the spiral staircase was situated in the middle of the long corridor. The smoke was getting thicker, and Evelyn was having trouble getting enough oxygen. Her lungs fought every breath, and her head started to spin from exertion. The corridor seemed to stretch forever, and the window at the end looked so much further than she had initially thought. A chunk of burning wood fell from above. She did not swerve around it in time, and tripped over it, sliding across the wood floor, bits of embers beneath her. She stood up, terror making her heart pound, and in the haze of smoke stamped out the hem of her dress, which had caught fire. Her boot did not seem to make a sound in the roar of the fire that was quickly descending from the floor above, for the old wood that rested in the stone frame of the building was dry and caught in an instant. The explosion in the far end of the corridor had helped the progression of the blaze greatly.

Clumsy feet and a drunken haze of smoke. These were the two things that Evelyn seemed to know. The rest was a blur. She was feeling dizzy and sick, and she almost forgot why she had run to a window when she reached it. After a second of confusion, she pulled out her wand and somehow mustered the strength to break the window with a bombardment charm. The smash barely rose above the sound of chaos, and the cool air poured in on Evelyn. Down below, the first floor jutting over it, the river Thames rushed by. Evelyn tried not to look down at the dark water that was taking away bits of ash raining down from the sky, and she concentrated with all her might to shift to her animagus form. The smoke was still thick even with the window open, for it was pouring off the floors above, and Evelyn could not seem to get a breath. Nor could she change forms, she soon found. She tried again, and again, fatigue pulling her further from wakefulness. She felt her legs wobble dangerously, and in one single moment of clarity, she understood that she would not have the strength to change shape, let along fly, for birds needed immense amounts of oxygen to remain airborne. She vaguely recalled that that was why she had not flown through the corridor, opting instead the run.

Evelyn put her wand into her deep dress pocket to free up her hands. She took in a deep gasp of smoky air, and closed her eyes. Thinking of Severus and his steady, dark eyes, she jumped.

Stinging smoky air rushed by. Evelyn would have screamed but was unable to breathe. As soon as she was falling she opened her eyes, unable to help herself. The water below her feet reflected the image of the fire, and then the picture was broken as she plunged into the dirty, chilly river. She struggled, trying to reach the surface. Her eyes opened in the gloom, and she looked up through the water to see the unearthly glow of the flames above. She frantically moved her arms, but her hands in water were not like her wings in air. She had no place in the water, and knew all too well she had never learned to swim. The rush of the river kept her under, and with her body screaming for air Evelyn took a gulp of water, and then everything started to become black. Blacker than Severus' eyes ... black like the river ... black like McTavish's soul.

Then an arm was around her, and as the darkness pressed in on her brain she thought sluggishly of Severus. She was pulled toward the orange light, up to the surface of the filthy water where the smoke hovered over like a blanket. She expelled a huge spout of water, blinded by the smoky air and the river water in her eyes, and the strong arms pulled her to the bank, laying her on the ashen ground. It seemed like forever before she registered what she was seeing. Sparks floated over the river like fireflies, and as her vision came into focus she searched for Severus. But he was not there.

Instead, Samuel Hearne stood before her, dripping wet in his ragged clothing.

"You can't swim? You jumped in a river, and you can't swim!" he barked at her angrily, and all she could do was cough and splutter. "Bloody good thing I'd been paying attention and saw the flames, which of course meant you three were up to something! Well you did do a damn good job of destroying the potion, at least. Top half of the blasted building's just about gone, of course, and the wards on top of it all, after an explosion like that! That had to be Kendrick's lab that did that."

He let out a string of curses, looking horrified that the place he had once researched in was going up in smoke, and yet at the same time, rather awed.

"T-Thank you for saving me," said Evelyn hoarsely, sitting up weakly. They were just outside the gates of the Potioneer's Society, the people pouring out through the opening to get to the other side of the fence, travelling as far away from the falling chunks of debris as possible.

"Do not expect to be so lucky again," he warned her, looking relieved that she was alright.

"HEARNE! HE DID THIS!" shouted a voice a few feet away, recognizing Evelyn's saviour. "THAT TRAITOR!"

The blood drained from Hearne's face, and he looked quickly to Evelyn.

"Go!" she cried, and he disapparated on the spot to cries of anger from the crowd.

Billows of steam had obscured the area for a moment as the many wizards and witches around pulled out their wands and started dousing the fire from a distance, to little effect. It was exactly the opportunity Evelyn needed, and while she was still wobbly and coughing violently, she was well enough to stand. She got up and stumbled through the crowd, and when she dove into an alleyway she reached into her pocket for her wand so she could disapparate. Her fingers met only wet fabric.

She closed her eyes, holding back tears, picturing her wand at the bottom of the Thames where it likely was being swept along mercilessly. Suppressing a violent cough, Evelyn again tried to shift into her animagus form, but she failed once again, lacking the strength. She searched wildly around her, but no way presented itself. She would simply have to run. Coughing and spluttering, jogging through the street and feeling like she would collapse any moment, she prayed that Severus and Harry were alright and waiting for her.

***

2:30 AM

"Hold on, sir," Harry muttered as Snape wheezed slightly on the floor, his hands curled around the towel, which was stained with crimson. It had been steadily soaking up the blood for some time now.

Harry shivered violently. The powder was working fast. Very fast. Harry looked up at the little phial, his heart pounding.

"She'll come, sir," Harry whispered shakily.

Snape did not reply, but stared up at the ceiling. After a moment, he looked at Harry, staring intently into his eyes.

"P-Potter," he said, his voice shaking with pain, sounding faint. "I never ... never finished saying what I meant to that night, the night of the cave-in, with the parchment."

Harry looked away.

"I know what you were going to say," he said, hating the bitterness in his voice.

"You do?" asked Snape, his ghostly face riddled with confusion, and Harry thought perhaps he saw a trace of fear.

"You were going to say I remind you of my f-father," Harry said, his voice shaking with both disappointment and anger. "That's why you were ignoring me."

Silence fell between them. And Harry knew he had been right. Harry did not meet Snape's eyes, despising himself.

"Harry, look at me."

The voice was so gentle, Snape's words so soft, that Harry almost did not hear them. The words were calm, and kind, but he was afraid to meet Snape's eyes, and find out that he was right all along.

"Harry," said Snape again, almost pleading.

Slowly, Harry lifted his eyes from the floor. When he met Snape's gaze, he did not see what he had expected to. There was no loathing. There was no anger.

"I used to see James Potter, Harry," he whispered. "And then I got to know you."

A twang of confusion flitted through Harry. He did not speak, but waited for Snape to continue, for he seemed to be taking a great deal of effort to get the words out.

"When we went back in time the first time, I started to see someone else. I started to see you ... Harry, just Harry. Not James. But now ... now the more I see of you, the more I see ... Lily. You r-remind me of your mother. You are so much like her. More than you could ever imagine. It makes me miss her so much."

Snape blinked a few times, but did not break his gaze with Harry.

"I see so much of Lily in ... in you," he said shakily. "More every day." He sighed, looking ashamed of himself, and he looked back at the ceiling. "That was why I began to avoid you. It wasn't so much my position as a spy, but that I saw her in you to such a degree that it reminded me of everything I did not have, and all of the awful things I did, even though you forgave me for them. It hurt to see so much of her in you, knowing that I am the reason she is not here. However directly or indirectly."

Harry was stunned. He could not think of a single thing to say back, but Snape continued.

"I am a coward, Harry. An awful coward."

Shock hit Harry hard when he saw that Snape was shaking slightly, not out of pain, but from trying to keep his emotions under control.

"And I l-loved her," he confessed suddenly, his eyes tightly shut, his voice low and hoarse. "From the moment we met, and she never knew. I n-never told her. I was a coward even then!"

Understanding washed over Harry. Here was his answer, here was the real reason Snape had not talked to him. Here was why Snape had hated him from the beginning, why he had tried to peg Harry as another James Potter for so long. It was easier. It hurt less. And then another bolt of clarity hit Harry, and he finally saw why Snape's loathing of his father had lasted so long. James Potter had not stolen Severus Snape's best friend, as Harry had initially thought. He had stolen the girl he had loved, the girl he had wished had fallen for him the way she had for James.

"I forgive you," Harry said suddenly, his voice catching slightly. Surprising even himself, he leaned over and carefully hugged Snape, who froze in shock.

Harry could not help but understand Snape's hatred, even if it had not been right, because Harry too had experienced the bitter disappointment of not being loved. Maybe not in the same way as Snape, but as he tightened his arms around his Professor, all Harry could think of was when he used to lie in his cupboard as a very little boy, pretending that Aunt Petunia loved him too, just so he did not feel so alone.

It took a moment or two, but Harry felt one of Snape's shaking arms return the embrace. They stayed like this for a few seconds, and then Harry let go, sensing Snape's growing weakness from his injury.

"I promise I will not do that to you again," muttered Snape softly. "I will not ignore you. You deserve more."

"I do?" Harry asked without thinking.

"Yes."

***

2:30 am

Evelyn's world was fuzzy around her. Her clumsy feet tripped over a cobblestone jutting out from the dark road and she went crashing to the stone. Her hands were skinned, and for a moment the pain grounded her, erasing the spinning in her head. Her fatigue was growing, and she felt like at any moment, her heart would burst from running. Even so, she pushed as hard as she could, knowing she still had a long way to go.

***

2:41 am.

"Sir?" whispered Harry.

"Yes?" croaked Snape, whose chest heaved. He was doing worse. Harry was beginning to become frightened.

"Should we leave a note for Evelyn, just in case?" he asked, worried she would not get there in time.

Snape looked at him for a moment, contemplating.

"It could not hurt ... just ... just in case."

Harry grabbed a piece of spare parchment and the ink and quill, setting it down on the floor so he could write by Snape.

"I'll tell her what's happened," Harry muttered, writing with a steady hand that had long disappeared. Snape too was slowly disappearing, for time was running out, and the powder grew closer to the moment when it would activate fully.

"Tell her I will be alright once I see a healer," muttered Snape, coughing weakly.

Harry nodded, and added a few more sentences.

"Can you think of anything else to say?" Harry asked, hating the way his voice shook.

"A million ... things," Snape said, taking in a sharp breath mid sentence and clutching at the splinter, still embedded in him. "But we haven't time for that."

"What do you want to put, then?"

Snape paused, and then held out his right hand.

"I can write it," he said steadily despite the way his hand shook.

Harry placed the loaded quill in Snape's hand, and set the parchment beside him. Carefully, Snape wrote, still lying on his back, trying not to disturb the splinter. It took a long time, but Snape finished the message, and rolled it up. Sensing that what his professor had written was not for him to read, Harry placed the note upon the table. Harry shivered violently, but this kind of shiver he was sure was not from the powder, but from his fever.

"How are you feeling?" muttered Snape.

"Worse," Harry said, feeling the cold sweat dripping down his back and trying to ignore the burning pain that was snaking down his arm and to his chest.

Snape let out a rattling cough, just like those Harry too had been plagued with since the smoky fire. Snape gave a moan when the pain from coughing hit him, and he clenched his teeth tightly as the splinter was jarred. Harry looked at the towel that was placed upon the wound, Snape's hands weakly clutching it. Blood stained much of the material now. Despite the splinter remaining to plug the wound, Snape was still bleeding fairly impressively.

Harry felt a cold kind of fear crawl into his belly, and the fatigue in his body was almost too much to fight. Cautiously, he lay down on the floor, side by side with Snape. He could hear his breathing, which sounded strangely irregular. Harry inched closer. Snape made no move to stop him, and so they lay there in the darkness, their sides touching slightly, neither acknowledging the fear that was hanging in the air as time slowly ran out.

***

2:47 am.

Evelyn broke into a run again, gasping for air as she sprinted down Tower Street. She could see her home, and she was at the door, reaching at the handle with fumbling fingers. It swung open, and she tumbled into the room at last.

A note lay on the table. There was blood on the floor. But these things Evelyn hardly noticed at first, for as she fell to her knees she wished with all her heart she had perished in the fire rather than come back to find them gone.

Sobs wracked her body, and she lay curled up on the floor, staring at the stains in the wood, dark and terrifying. Despite the fact that she wished to melt into the foundation of the house, and into oblivion, the blood stared her in the face. A flutter of fear rippled through her, and so she stumbled to the table and reached for the note, hardly daring to read it, but she had to know what had happened. Her fumbling hands unrolled it, and after wiping her eyes as she tried to control her ragged breathing, she began to read. Harry's writing was obvious, and she knew immediately it was he who had written the first part of the note. She had to breathe deeply to steady her hands enough to make out the words.

Dear Evelyn,

We escaped the fire and came back through the tunnel, but right at the end part of it collapsed. Professor Snape was behind me, and a huge splinter caught him just below the ribs. We had to use the powder because if we waited for you he would have died. We left a little bit of powder in case you came, but this note here is our explanation in case you were too late. Professor Snape said to tell you that he will be alright once we get him to a healer. Healers in our time can do wonders. He wants to write to you a little bit, so if I do not get to see you Evelyn, I am so sorry, and I will miss you so much.

Sincerely,

Harry

Evelyn's heart leaped into her chest when she saw Severus' handwriting a ways below Harry's, barely legible and messier than she had ever seen it. She drank his words like they were the elixir of life, all the while trying to keep her tears from smudging the ink.

My dear Evelyn,

I am so sorry. I would rather have died than leave without you, but Potter insisted that you would not want me to die for you. I think he is probably right. I could write a thousand things to you, but there is not enough time. So I can only say that I am very sorry, and that I love you so much. I just wish I could say it in person, because it never seems to sound right on paper. I promise I will be alright. For you. But that will not stop me missing you, and searching for some way for us to be together again.

All my love,

Severus

Evelyn stood up from the ground despite the fact that her legs seemed to want to never move again. Giving in to sobs she set the letter on the table once more, and then looked around the room again, as though she believed he was merely out of sight. But the blood on the floor was the only evidence besides the letter that Severus had once been here ... that his heart had been beating steadily beside her during those long days spent in the darkness, tunnelling for the lives of so many. Evelyn could not help but think of how ironic it was that the very thing that was meant to save the wizarding world was what had brought hers crashing down.

She paced back and forth in the little house, not knowing what to do with herself. Eventually she sank down to the ground by the folded quilt in the corner. Her clothes were still damp from the river. Shivering slightly, she wrapped the quilt around her shoulders. It was the quilt Severus had slept with while he had been here. It still smelled like him, and she buried her face in the soft material, trying to wish herself into his arms.

The sun was rising when she finally stood up, having not gotten any sleep. Evelyn swayed slightly with the quilt around her shoulders, taking another glance around the room, her way suddenly clear. She would have to leave. It was not safe in London for her anymore. The smell of smoke was on her hair still, and it reminded her of all that had happened. Of all that she had done, and the ghosts of a past that would always haunt her here.

Evelyn sighed when she remembered she did not have a wand. Her eyes searched for something to protect herself with, and then it came to her. Up on the mantelpiece was a box that still held Ellery's wand. She had not buried it with him, despite it being traditional. It was one of the only things she had left of him, and she was glad now that she had kept it. It would be hers now. Carefully, she took it out of the box, waving it. It felt warm in her fingertips, and she knew it would serve her well.

She dried her eyes, and rolled up Severus' quilt, tying it with a piece of rope. Evelyn grabbed the little bag of coins, and put them in her pocket. A few pots and cooking things made their way into the things she was gathering. Then, quickly, Evelyn lit a small fire, and she fed pieces of parchment into it, watching as their carefully constructed plans turned black and crumbled away, gone forever. The flames were stamped out, and with a wave of her wand the trapdoor was sealed permanently, the cut wooden hatch melding with the floor once more until she could not even tell where it had been. Evelyn then latched the shutters on the window, and strode to the door, the rolled quilt on her back and the thin metal pots clanking. She glanced around the room for a second, from the cold ashes left in the fireplace to the place where the trapdoor had been, to the three empty chairs around the table and the empty jar devoid of flames that sat on top of it. This had been home, once.

Evelyn turned around and opened the door, shutting it behind her for the last time as she fled the city, knowing that the only place that would ever be home again was where Severus was.

***

Hogwarts, 1992

12:01 PM

Harry felt the soft carpet beneath him and the warmth of the embers in the fire glowing and washing away the blackness that had filled his vision for some time. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling feverish and weak, his shoulder aching. Snape lay beside him still, unmoving, but alive.

They were back. They had returned. Here were Snape's quarters. Here was Hogwarts. Here was safety. Here was home.

Harry leaped to his feet, almost falling as he stepped on the phial, which had returned with them. It shattered beneath his feet. He stepped back, staring blankly at the shimmering pieces of glass. He shook his head to clear it, and then began searching for the powder that Snape had thrown into the fire to talk to Dumbledore before they had left. He found it on the mantelpiece and threw it into the flames. It turned green, and with reckless abandon he thrust his head into the emerald fire.

"Madam Pomfrey's quarters!" he shouted, and he went spinning off through the floo.

He knew it had worked when he saw the soft armchair and the stack of files on the side table.

"MADAM POMFREY!" he shouted into the room, hoping that she was there.

He saw a pair of slippered feet come flying into the room, and Madam Pomfrey knelt down at the fireside, wearing her dressing gown.

"Mr. Potter, you have returned!" she cried, looking relieved, but worried at the same time. "What is it?"

"We just got back, and Professor Snape is hurt," Harry said, trying to make his words clear as fear overwhelmed him and his head spun. He quickly described the wound so that Madam Pomfrey knew what to bring with her immediately, and where they were.

Harry pulled his head from the fire, stumbling back slightly. Madam Pomfrey was going to be there in a few moments, and he sank to the ground beside Snape, glad that Dumbledore had told her what was going on, for he had no energy to explain.

"Madam Pomfrey's coming," he told Snape. "You'll be alright."

It took him a moment to register the fact that tears were pouring down Snape's face; he turned his head away from Harry.

"Sir?" Harry muttered, embarrassed by the show of emotion, and frightened at the same time.

"She is not here," he said hoarsely, and Harry knew that he was not talking about the matron.

Harry knew not what to say, but hesitantly, he put a hand on Snape's shoulder. He looked up sharply as the flames in the fireplace turned green, and Madam Pomfrey stepped out. She knelt down by Snape immediately.

"Severus," she said, looking at the wound with the calm expression of a Healer. Her expression turned to alarm when she saw his tear streaked face. "What happened, Potter?"

"It'll take too long to explain," he muttered, shivering. "I'll tell you later."

He stood back, watching the scene unfold, not paying attention to the pain in his shoulder and the spinning in his head, both of which had grown worse as his fever continued to rise

"This is blood replenisher," said Madam Pomfrey, holding up a cup of potion to Snape's lips. She lifted his head slightly so he could drink it.

When he had drunk the potion, Madam Pomfrey took the blood soaked towel away from Snape's abdomen, examining the splinter.

"I am going to remove this now," she said. "It will hurt a great deal."

Snape jerked his head slightly, not seeming to be paying much attention to her. The tears still trickled down his cheeks and into his hair. He did not even seem to care that Harry and Madam Pomfrey were seeing him cry, which shook Harry to the core. What had made Snape completely lose it like this? In his mind Harry heard once more the words Snape had said when Harry told him he would likely die if they waited for Evelyn. "Then I'll die!" he had said. It was then that it occurred to Harry that maybe Evelyn was more to Snape than a friend.

Snape shuddered badly as the splinter was pulled from his flesh. Madam Pomfrey hastened to undo the buttons on his robes, opening them to get to his shirt. The white material was soaked with blood, and she pulled the shirt open to get to the wound, exposing Snape's heaving chest and stomach. His skin looked so pale next to the bright red blood. She waved her wand, and a greenish light came from within the gaping wound, which did not heal over. Harry could only assume that it had healed the internal wounds. He then watched in awe as she waved her wand in complex patterns over the hole in Snape's flesh and the skin around it, uttering what sounded like a chant to Harry. Snape's stomach absorbed the blue light from her wand, and Harry saw the skin on either side of the wound ripple toward the centre and bind together once more.

"Will he be okay?" whispered Harry.

"Yes," said Madam Pomfrey, "He will need plenty of bed rest, and I must monitor him closely, but the worst is over. There was no major damage to any of his vital organs, and he did not lose enough blood to put him in a great deal of danger. If he moves too much however, what has healed may open up again."

Harry made to open his mouth to ask a question, but both he and Madam Pomfrey were surprised by a quiet sob. They looked down at Snape, who had his eyes shut tightly.

"Severus, are you still in pain?" Madam Pomfrey asked gently, her eyes crinkled with worry. "Do you have any other injuries?"

He shook his head weakly.

"We left someone behind," Harry said in a low voice when Snape did not explain. "We met her last time we went back earlier in the year, and she was going to come to the future with us this time, but Professor Snape got injured and we had to come back without her. He wanted to wait for her."

Madam Pomfrey did not reply. She sat in silence for a second, the lines on her face becoming more prominent. Then she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, and gently wiped Snape's face, which was covered in grime from the tunnels. He did not resist. Harry studied the look on Madam Pomfrey's aged features. It was a look of tenderness ... soft, kind, but sad. It made him think a little bit of the way Mrs. Weasley had looked at Christmas, when Harry had come downstairs with the Weasley children and been surprised he had presents. He had seen that look on her face a lot during the two weeks he had been at the Burrow, and it occurred to him that such a look was indicative of the love a mother has for a child. That was how Madam Pomfrey looked as she sat by Snape's side. Harry had a feeling that she understood Snape's reaction better than he did. But then again, she had known him longer, Harry supposed.

"Severus, I need to take you to the hospital wing," she said gently, waving her wand and making a stretcher appear.

He nodded, looking miserable. She helped him to shift onto the stretcher, and levitated it up into the air.

"Come along, Potter," she said, her eyes still on Snape. "I think you've been through a bit much tonight to be sleeping in your dorm."

He stood up, not mentioning his shoulder. It could wait. She had been so shocked by Snape's state that she had not noticed Harry's. Quietly, he walked behind her, Snape's prone form floating beside her on the stretcher.

Harry's heart pounded with the fear that Evelyn had been killed. He wondered what had happened to her. Surely she had not perished in the fire? Had she gotten the note? Regret poured over Harry, and as he watched Snape shaking on the stretcher he felt a pang of pity for the man. He was still amazed, and shocked at how Snape had reacted to Evelyn being left behind. It made him wonder what Snape had written to her in his portion of the note, the part that Harry had not read.

Madam Pomfrey raised her wand once they left Snape's quarters, and Harry jumped when he saw a silver flash go shooting down the corridor. He did not know what it was, but his teeth were chattering too badly for him to ask as another wave of feverish cold washed over him.

They arrived at the hospital wing in good time, and Harry felt like he could not take another step. He followed Madam Pomfrey to the bed that she helped Snape onto. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, looking simply awful. His eyes were dry now, however. The crusted blood on his shirt made him look like a ghost, and the splinter had left a scar that was visible by his ribs, his torso still exposed.

Just then the doors burst open, and Professor Dumbledore entered the room, wearing a dressing gown and looking very concerned.

"Poppy, how is he?" Dumbledore said sharply, walking toward the bed to see how Snape was. "Thank you for alerting me. I have been up all night wondering when they would return."

Harry decided that the silver flash must have been the message Dumbledore spoke of, but he was too tired to ponder it.

"Severus will be alright," said Poppy. "I do not know what happened yet, exactly -"

Harry blinked dazedly as a shiver went down his spine, Madam Pomfrey's words seeming to trail off into nothing despite the fact that her mouth was still moving. He was dizzy, and everything was beginning to appear to his eyes like a picture on a telly with bad reception. The world rocked beneath him as his shoulder gave an awful throb, and the picture in front of him faded into nothing. As blackness pulled him under he heard the surprised, but muffled cries of Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey as he fell into darkness. He was just barely aware of a pair of hands catching him before he hit the floor, and then he knew nothing more.

It had been a month since the incident. A month since Harry had awoken from fainting, his arm in a sling and his shoulder beginning to heal, and two weeks since Snape and Harry had been out of the hospital wing. Snape had required a lot of bed rest, for despite Madam Pomfrey's wonderful healing skills, internal wounds were tricky. Even after they had been mended partially, time was what was needed to fully heal them, lest the thin veil holding it all back together broke again. Harry thought that this was just as well, for Snape had seemed uncharacteristically content to do nothing. In fact, Harry had worried about him, for he had barely spoken during those two weeks, and Madam Pomfrey had had to plead with him to eat. Harry thought he understood why, for he had seen Snape and Evelyn talking late at night on the few occasions they had all been together, and there was something in the way he had looked at her. Harry then thought back to the night they arrived, when Evelyn had broken down at the sight of them. This too led to him believing that she had been more than just relieved that she had someone to help with the plan.

Harry had had a lot of time to process what had happened, for his shoulder had taken a great amount of time to heal as well. Madam Pomfrey had told him that at the time they showed up at Hogwarts Harry had the beginnings of blood poisoning from the infection. He had been every bit as lucky as Snape that night, for any longer and he could have lost his arm. Now, however, all that was left was a scar, and Harry had been back to classes for almost a fortnight, everyone under the impression he had simply caught a nasty flu.

Harry was glad to be back, but he found that he missed Snape's company. He also found that he missed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had come to visit him a great deal while he was in the hospital wing. He was beginning to really enjoy being with them, for they brought a kind of safety he had never known. But in some ways, so did Snape. Naturally, the longing for the company of an adult who paid attention to him was what made him so amazed and excited when he received a note from Hedwig at breakfast one morning, asking him to tea. It was signed by Professor Snape, and Harry was quite pleased.

Snape had been a little bit distant lately, but Harry was quite sure that it had nothing to do with what had been causing Snape's distance earlier in the year. Professor Snape had been very far away in class too, but with all of the students, and not just Harry. He had remained at his desk mostly, not pacing the room, but watching from afar. Harry recognized the dead look in his eyes as depression, something Harry had suffered from often as long as he could remember. He supposed that was a product of living in a cupboard so long, without anyone to love him. Naturally, he was glad that he could talk to Snape soon, because he was honestly worried for him.

Quarter after seven came and he knocked on Snape's office door, bouncing up and down on his toes restlessly. Snape answered the door with a wan smile, and let him in. They sat down, and Snape began to pour Harry a cup of tea.

"How strange all of this is," said Snape, handing Harry the cup, "being back here. Life feels a little mundane after such an adventure, doesn't it?"

"You could say that again," said Harry. "I sometimes wake up thinking I'm there still."

"I do too," muttered Snape.

"Why did you invite me to tea?" asked Harry suddenly, the thing he had been wondering all day finally bursting from his lips.

"And what makes you think I have a reason?" asked Snape, his eyebrow raised.

"You're a Slytherin. You always have some goal in mind. Good or otherwise. And you aren't one for socializing all that much."

"Well spotted," said Snape with smirk. "I think you would have made a good Slytherin yourself."

"So did the Sorting Hat," Harry said with a shrug (Snape spluttered into his tea). "But I had met Malfoy on the train and I did not want to be in the same house as him, so I chose Gryffindor instead. I guess I kind of talked the Hat into it."

"I never knew that," he said, setting down his teacup with a clatter.

"You're the only person that does besides me now," said Harry quietly. "I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I let the hat put me there instead. You know, I bet you are a good head of house."

"Well, my Slytherins do defend me quite fiercely, so that has to say something," said Snape with a soft smile. Harry was rather surprised by the note of pride in his voice.

"Ron knows that too well," said Harry suddenly with a laugh, a memory from earlier in the year coming to mind. "Last time he tried to bad mouth you he had to fight off at least a dozen Slytherins. But don't tell him you know."

"I will not say anything," said Snape with a smirk, "but only because I am sure he got what was coming to him."

"He did, sir. And you're being Slytherin again. You're evading my question. Why did you ask me to tea?"

Snape sighed, and set his teacup down.

"You do not miss a thing, do you? Lily was the same way."

Harry glowed with pride.

"I think I owe you an explanation," said Snape slowly. "I have been quite ... far away lately."

"I noticed," said Harry quietly.

"Even in the hospital wing, I often did not respond to the things you said," Snape muttered, sounding a little worried. "I was not trying to ignore you again, I promise. I ... I simply have been ... let down. A great deal. Not by you, of course. I understand by now that you tend to think that anything going wrong in the adult world has something to do with you, which of course, is a product of your upbringing with Lily's twit of a sister."

Harry snickered slightly when he insulted Aunt Petunia.

"So, what I mean to say is that if you thought that I was ignoring you, I am sorry."

"I already know that wasn't why you were so quiet," Harry said. He hesitated a moment, but finally voiced the question he had been wanting to ask for some time. It was the question to which he had speculated an answer to, but he wanted to hear it from Snape. "Sir, why was Evelyn going to come back with us?"

Snape closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. He opened them, and after a long silence, he replied.

"Well, I asked her to," he muttered, looking fixedly at his teacup. "And she said yes, because ... because we fell in love."

Harry looked up sharply. So there had been more to it.

"I'm sorry we had to leave her behind," said Harry, not knowing anything else to say. Snape nodded silently, looking lost.

"How has your shoulder been?" asked Snape, looking up from his tea, clearly hoping for a change of subject. Harry followed the new thread eagerly, not knowing how to proceed with the previous conversation anyway.

"Good," Harry said cheerfully. "How's your stab wound? Did it leave a cool scar?"

To Harry' surprise, Snape chuckled.

"Between you and I, it is a very cool scar indeed, Mr. Potter," he said. "I have healed very well, thank you."

"Now you can tell everyone that you got bitten by a snake or something, and that's why you were in the hospital wing so long," said Harry. "It would be a bit less boring than being taken out by a chunk of wood, not that you could tell anyone about that either because of it being secret, that is."

"Funny, that reminds me of something that happened years ago."

"You were bitten by a snake?" Harry exclaimed incredulously.

"No, you silly boy," said Snape with a light-hearted wave of his hand. "Your statement reminded me of something your mother said to me many years ago. It is a rather amusing story, if you would care to hear it."

"Yes, please," said Harry hardly containing his excitement, so Snape began.

"I believe I was thirteen at the time. It was February, and Lily and I were walking along the grounds in the evening. It was quite cold, so after a while, Lily thought it might be fun to slide on the frozen lake. I was worried that the ice was not going to be thick enough, but she persuaded me, saying that it was so cold it had to have frozen fairly thick. Of course, what we did not know then was that the lake here is brackish."

"Brackish, sir?" asked Harry, rather confused.

"Slightly salty," said Snape quickly before continuing. "Which of course meant that despite it being cold, the lake was unable to properly freeze over. Lily wandered out a little further, and I followed, naturally. Well, I took a few steps ahead of her and through the ice I went."

Harry shuddered.

"Quite right, Harry. It was cold. Very cold. It still gives me the chills just thinking about it. Anyway, I managed to get back up onto the ice again, and to shore I went. Lily was torn between laughter and horror. She felt simply awful for luring me out onto the ice only to have me fall in, especially seeing as I had to walk through the school sopping wet, and there were a great many students who were quite happy to make fun of me. But, Lily did something that amazed me."

Snape had a twinkle in his eye as he continued, fondly recalling the incident. Harry was glad to see that he had some life in him, which he had been lacking for the past month. "Now, your mother was the most truthful person I ever met, and I had never heard her lie as long as I had known her. And then that day came, and I found out she was the most convincing liar I had ever met, and that included myself. Keep in mind that even at a young age I was a lot like the double agent I grew up to be."

"What did she say?" Harry asked, incredulously.

Snape smirked, and continued. "As we walked through the school and up to the hospital wing she told everyone who asked what happened that I had been attacked by the giant squid. She spun an extremely vivid tale of how her wand fell onto the ice and as we had yet to do summoning charms at that time, I bravely went to get it, only to have the giant squid see my shadow through the ice and break through it, pulling me under. According to her I threw a stinging hex at it, and it let me go, tossing me back on shore.

"I was the talk of the school after that, and nobody ever found out that it was a complete lie, because nobody expected it from the girl who was quickly on her way to becoming head girl.

"The reason why your statement reminded me of that story was because when I asked her later on why she fabricated the whole tale, she said that it was simply, ‘much more macho'. I think that she really just felt bad for it having been her idea to go onto the ice, as I ended up in the hospital wing because of it, with early stages of hypothermia. I never heard her lie again, but she was always full of surprises, Lily. You would have simply adored her."

"She sounds great," said Harry. "I really wish I had known her."

"I wish you had too," said Snape rather quietly. His eyes drifted to the clock, realizing the time. "You should probably be going. Your curfew is soon."

"Yeah," muttered Harry with disappointment. "Being a first year sucks sometimes. Anyway, thanks for the tea."

"You are welcome," Snape replied, seeming a little amused at Harry's opinions.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me more stories about Mum sometime?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"I can," said Snape. "But not tonight."

"When, then?" asked Harry.

"Soon," said Snape, surprising Harry with a smile, a real one. "Now run along, I have far too much grading to catch up on. I daresay your homework situation is the same."

Harry grimaced at the last comment.

Just as Harry was getting up, there was a knock at the door.

Surprised, Snape called out, "Enter."

Madam Pince was standing haughtily in the doorway, one hand on her hip and a slip of paper in the other hand.

"I was told that Mr. Potter was here," she said stiffly, much to Harry's bewilderment.

"Well, there he is," Snape said, raising an eyebrow, gesturing to Harry.

She turned to him, looking ready to spit fire.

"It has been two full weeks since it was due, and I still have not gotten Recipe for Fame: A History of the Potioneer's Society back. I hope you have not lost it!"

With a sudden flash of realization, Harry and Snape looked at each other, both of them very serious. Then Snape's lip twitched, and to Madam Pinces's amazement, he threw his head back and laughed. Harry too collapsed a moment later, because he knew all too well that the book was history, quite literally, considering it was lying on the floor of Evelyn's house.

"What is the meaning of this?" she cried over the ruckus.

"Irma," said Snape when the two of them had finally caught their breath, "this is one time you should just let it go, trust me."

"That book was a treasured part of the Hogwarts library!" she said, horrified. "A new copy will cost three galleons!"

"Which I will happily pay," Snape said, still trying not to laugh.

Harry looked at him, shocked. He opened his mouth to protest but Snape brushed him off with a wave of his hand.

"But it was Potter's book," she screeched.

"And I have not laughed this hard in years," Snape said breathlessly, clutching his side as he rummaged around in his desk drawer. He tossed a few galleons at her. She caught them deftly.

"The loss of library property is not funny in the least, Severus Snape!" she said with a huff, and Snape just smirked. "As for you, Mr. Potter, you had better not try to take out another book any time soon!"

The office door shut with a slam, and as soon as she was gone Harry looked back to Snape, unable to keep a straight face.

"Think she would have believed us?" Harry said, stifling a small laugh.

"Not a chance," Snape said, smirking.

Hogwarts, 1995

Harry was far too familiar with the saying that time healed all wounds. He had been told it many times during his short life, and while he detested it, he was willing to admit that it was partly true in some ways. Four years had passed since the night they had left history behind forever; the scar on his shoulder had faded until it was only a thin line, and nightmares of McTavish no longer haunted his sleep. Despite this, he thought that a more accurate description of that familiar old saying was that time dulls all pain.

History books provided no closure for the events that Harry almost never spoke of - the things that had led up to him seeing Professor Snape cry openly. He doubted he would ever witness such a thing again despite the fact that he still saw much of his professor. They talked a lot these days, which Harry was grateful for. This had helped a lot in moving past the fear that had remained after being so haunted by danger for those short weeks in the seventeenth century. Yet, while the danger had passed, the scars, while faded, remained - some visible, some hidden. On occasion he still caught sight of the ghosts of Snape's past, the ghost of the woman they had left behind in 1613. Snape hid the pain well, but there were times when Harry could see it still. His classmates knew nothing of why Professor Snape had days where he spoke so little in class, and took almost no points. They simply thought he was in a good mood, which of course was not true in the least. Nobody else knew that he was in pain. Nobody else knew what he had lost. Unnoticed by the others, this silent understanding between Harry and Snape allowed them to grow closer. They seemed to be able to tell each other many of the things they could share with no other. It was for this reason that despite his love of living at the Burrow, and spending time with his Godfather, Harry felt that the one person he could tell anything was the man that inhabited the shadows, the man that lurked in the quiet corridors of the dungeons. It was a wonderful balance, something they had carefully maintained since Snape had confided his reason for having avoided speaking to Harry for so long during the first year they had known each other.

This was mostly why Harry's marks in potions had improved. Snape still marked just as hard, but Harry had striven to impress the man who had surprised him by taking an interest in his life once more. Of course, due to Harry's respect for Snape, he also found he listened a great deal to his lectures, which actually proved quite instructive.

One cold February afternoon found Harry, Ron and Hermione huddling close to the fires under their cauldrons as Professor Snape gave one of these lectures, albeit a short one. On that day Snape was outlining a few pointers before the class entered the second stage of brewing their potions. He was quite sternly telling them what not to do, as the potion they were attempting to brew could be disastrous if they got it wrong. Harry was carefully writing down what his professor said so as not to make any mistakes.

"Blood-Replenishing Potions are fairly easy to brew, as long as one examines the process carefully," Snape said. "The point where most mistakes occur is during the second stage of brewing, after the potion has simmered for fifteen minutes. Your potions should be done in approximately five more minutes, and so before you enter the second stage, I want you to pay particular attention to the following three steps."

The grating sound of the chalk on the board rang through the classroom as he aggressively underlined a number of words in the list of instructions that had been there since the start of the double period.

"This is the first part that you must read carefully," Snape said curtly, using the piece of chalk to tap the spot on the board that he had underlined. "After adding the crushed beetles, you must do three stirs counter clockwise, three clockwise, and then four counter clockwise. It makes more sense for it to be three, but it is in fact four. To those who lazily skim over the instructions, this is often missed."

"The second part," he continued, underlining another segment. He turned to face the class again, making sure everyone was paying attention, then proceeded. Harry dipped his quill in ink and set it to the paper again. There was the tapping sound of Snape pointing to the line as he spoke.

"This part is especially crucial, for under no circumstances should you ... should you ever ..."

Harry looked up, alarmed, wondering what had caused Snape to falter. Snape never faltered, but right now, he looked like a deer in the headlights. Then, to everyone's surprise, the chalk fell from his fingertips, cracking in two on the floor, all the intensity of the lecture gone.

"Sir?" a Slytherin asked hesitantly as whispers erupted around the classroom.

"Class ... class dismissed," Snape said, a tremor only just noticeable in his voice.

"But, our potions ..." Hermione protested.

"I said, class dismissed!" Snape spat, his voice stronger this time.

Everyone leaped to their feet upon hearing the tone of his voice, gathering their things as quickly as possible. They filed out of the room with haste, heads bent low and muttering. Harry sent Hermione and Ron forward, taking a little bit longer to pack up his things, worried about what had caused Snape to stop mid class. Harry was greatly puzzled, for Voldemort could not have called, seeing as his scar had not burned. He looked toward the door and as the last student stepped out of the room, he turned to Snape, opening his mouth to ask what had happened. He fell silent when he saw the look on Snape's face - like a shipwrecked man that had spotted a boat on the horizon. Harry looked to the end of the classroom to where Snape was staring, and saw that someone had stepped in through the door at the back of the room, which was still propped open like it had been during lesson. The woman smiled for a second, standing in the entrance of the classroom. She looked radiant despite the simple, old fashioned dress. A moment after he recognized who it was, Harry just barely dodged the whirlwind of black robes as Snape sprinted from the front of the dungeon, meeting Evelyn in the middle of the classroom where they became so wrapped up in each other's embrace that had it not been for the different colours of their clothing, it would have been difficult to figure out which person was which.

Cautiously, Harry crept through the classroom, tiptoeing toward the doorway. He paused for a moment as he left the classroom, taking one last glance at Evelyn and Professor Snape, oblivious of their surroundings as they rocked slowly on the spot in the middle of the dim classroom, holding each other like they were the only two people in the world. Hardly able to believe it, Harry quietly closed the door behind him, grinning from ear to ear. He wanted so much to talk to Evelyn, to ask her how she did it. Instead, he let them be, knowing that there would be all the time in the world for that.

So, Harry waited until evening to knock on Snape's office door. He had wanted to go earlier, but he was a little bit less oblivious than he was in first year, and he had no doubts they would want to spend some time alone for a while. He was practically dancing with excitement after dinner, however. Neither Snape nor Evelyn had showed in the Great Hall, but Harry could not blame them. The entire school had erupted in rumour, for nobody had seen Snape since he had told them to leave without class even finishing. It appeared, however, that nobody had seen Evelyn yet. Harry could only assume that she had made sure she was out of sight after appearing in the doorway briefly, so that the students did not catch a glimpse of her. Either way, Harry had been forcing himself to keep his mouth shut all day, even to Ron and Hermione. He had a feeling that Snape would not care for him to confide in them with something like this. So, they believed that Harry had gone down to visit Hagrid to ask him a question about Care of Magical Creatures.

"I thought you would show eventually," Snape said, rolling his eyes and opening the office door, but Harry noted the fact that he was smirking.

He looked better than Harry had seen him in years, and he had a spring in his step as he led Harry across the office.

"We will all talk in my quarters," said Snape. "I daresay you will have more questions than Evelyn will know what to do with, and I would prefer to be sitting comfortably."

"I can't believe she's back," Harry said excitedly as Snape pulled the book on the bookcase and it slid away. There was no time for Snape to reply to Harry's statement, for Evelyn saw them immediately and rushed over to Harry.

"You've grown so much!" she exclaimed fondly, standing in front of him and looking him over. "I didn't even realize it was you in the classroom earlier! My, you're as tall as I am now. Oh, and you've gotten so handsome too!"

Harry swelled with pride.

"Do try not to turn the boy's head," Snape said, rolling his eyes.

Evelyn laughed merrily, and gave Harry a hug, which he returned.

"It's good to see you," she said.

"It's wonderful to see you too," Harry replied. "I thought I never would again. How on earth did you manage it?"

"Well, we might as well sit down first," said Snape, and so they all moved to the table, and Snape left for a moment to go into the kitchen to start a pot of tea.

"I've told Severus a bit of it," said Evelyn, "but there is a great deal of time to account for. I won't stray from the important details."

"Go on," Harry said excitedly.

"I shall start where we last saw each other, I suppose," Evelyn said, sounding almost sad. "Well, after the explosion I did not go down the staircase and into the entrance hall. It was too crowded, so I ran to the end of the corridor to a window overlooking the Thames. I had to jump into the river to escape the building, because I was too weak from the smoke to turn into my animagus form. I have never really been able to swim, but I was lucky because Samuel Hearne had noticed that the Potioneer's Society had caught fire, and he was standing and watching the disaster. He saw me jump into the river, and he pulled me out. I was very lucky."

"How is he?" Snape asked curiously, having returned to the sitting room quickly as he had made the tea with magic. "Have you seen him since?"

"Yes, I have seen him, but it has been some time. I paid him a visit about two years ago, and he was living fairly comfortably in the countryside, selling potions," said Evelyn with a smile.

"So, he pulled you out of the river," Harry said, eager to continue with the story.

"Yes," said Evelyn. "Samuel had to run because the other Potioneer's Society members recognized him, and thought that he had started the fire as a means to sabotage them. I was left by myself, and I was about to apparate back to the house when I realized that my wand was gone. It must have fallen out of my pocket in the river. So I had to run back to the house, because I still did not have the strength to become my animagus form."

"The smoke, right?" Harry said. "I could barely breathe for ages."

"Yes," Evelyn said, taking the cup of tea that Snape had poured. Harry took his too with a small thank you, and then turned his attention back to Evelyn.

"Then, I arrived at the house," said Evelyn, trembling a little. She reached into a bag near her feet that Harry had not noticed. She pulled from it a piece of parchment, crinkled with age. "I found the note."

Snape looked at it sharply.

"You still have it?" he said, shocked.

"Well, yes," she said quietly to him, looking intently into his eyes. "It was my only proof you were still alive, my only hope, really."

Harry squirmed slightly at the look the two shared, and as Snape took Evelyn's hand.

"So you found the note," he said hastily, and the two came to their senses.

"Yes," she said. "I ... I did not know what to do. I spent the night, and then I packed up whatever I could, and I left. I still had Ellery's wand at the house, so I began to use it as my own. I travelled around for about a year, trying every chance I got to recreate the powder that Ellery made for travelling through time. He had instructed me how to make it to bring you two back, as his magic was taken, but I could only remember bits and pieces, which I wrote down right away so I did not forget further. It had taken us a little while even then to get it right, because he did not still have the notes he made the first time he did it. We only managed to find his supplies for inventing when we went back for them before he was kidnapped. We thought at the time that his notes had been taken by mice and used for nesting, but at that point it did not bother him too much, because he still remembered most of what he did, and he did not think he would need them again."

"So how did you figure it out?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Well," said Evelyn thoughtfully, "I did not for the longest time. After travelling a year, I settled in for five more years -"

"Hang on, it's only been ... I think a little more than three years since you've been gone," Harry said, confused. "I was almost twelve the last time we saw you, and I'm fifteen now, so how could you have lived six years since?"

"That I will explain a little later, Harry," said Evelyn with a chuckle. "Time travel is not perfect. Anyway, I lived for five years at Cambridge University. They needed someone to assist the Librarian in the Parker Library, in exchange for a room and meals. I am very lucky that I got the position. You see, I had heard a rumour that they had a magical section that was only accessible to those who were magical themselves."

"And did they?" Snape asked, surprised, and quite intrigued.

"Oh yes," said Evelyn excitedly. "A whole room, with shelves as high as you could see! Surprisingly enough, a lot of the muggle subjects were useful to Wizards who wanted to become more educated, and naturally, they formed little societies and started up the collection of books years and years ago. Is the University still there?"

"Of course it is," Snape said. "It is very well known now. I wonder if the wizarding library is as well."

"Probably," said Evelyn. "There were enchantments to keep anyone from taking books with the intent of stealing them. It was quite well thought out, you know. I searched through as many books as I could, hoping to find something on time travel, which was why I came in the first place. I did not find anything like what Ellery managed, but some of it was a little bit helpful. All of it sure made me appreciate just how brilliant he was. I have never met anyone as smart as him."

"Dumbledore might be," said Snape. "You will like him. He is a fair bit like Ellery. It is a bit uncanny, actually. He is the headmaster here, and he says he wants to meet you. I told him of your arrival by mail a little earlier. We can trust him."

"I look forward to meeting him," said Evelyn cheerfully before continuing with the story. "Anyway, I realized that there was nothing in the library to help me. Attempt after attempt of mine failed to make the powder. It did not make things disappear properly like Ellery described to me, and it was showing none of the characteristics of his time travel powder. So I left the University, and I suppose I was feeling reckless, because after a month of travelling from place to place I found myself walking along the road to the cave that used to be our hide-out in Scotland, back during the witch trials. I pulled up the trapdoor, and I went down. It was deserted, of course, and I spent the night there."

Evelyn sighed heavily, and she paused for a moment.

"All I could think of was you two," she said softly, "and Ellery. I was ready to give up that night, just board a ship and go somewhere, anywhere, hoping that by chance I would end up someplace that felt like home again.

"I couldn't stay in the cave long. It was absolutely foolish of me to return there, which I knew, and by morning I came to my senses, so I packed up. And then, when I was leaving, I saw something in the cave," Evelyn muttered. "I couldn't believe it. It was one of those doxies that Ellery had once told us about, the ones that glowed purple. I thought he had gone crazy from being in hiding so long, back when he said that."

"I saw them too," said Harry, perking up. "I followed one out of a shaft in the cave, and that was how I got caught by the witch hunters."

"Is that why you wandered off, you foolish child!" Snape spat, setting his teacup down with a clatter. "I swear -"

"I was eleven," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, if I hadn't wandered off, and Evelyn hadn't saved us, then you may never have gotten yourself a girlfriend!"

Snape spluttered slightly, and Harry and Evelyn laughed at his expression.

"Alright, alright, on with the story," Snape said stiffly, snatching his tea up and taking a sip.

"Well, if you've seen those doxies, Harry, then you know that they glow really, really brightly," said Evelyn with a small smile. "It was dark in the cave, so of course I saw it right away. I couldn't believe my eyes, but I followed it a little while, and I watched it go up a shaft, probably the one you climbed through. But then, in the light, I noticed something nearby. It was one of Ellery's inventing things. It was just a round wooden box. He had a lot of little objects collected together in his box of inventing things so he always had things to do enchantments on. Mostly his inventing supplies consisted of little tools he'd made himself, and notes on various projects. I never really thought to be suspicious that the time travel notes were missing from his box, as a few other things were missing too. But as I looked at the little wood box, I realized it was at the wrong end of the cave. When we went back to get his inventing things, they were far away from the shaft, where he always kept them. It was because of this that it occurred to me that Ellery's things must have been searched through when McTavish and his men came and raided the cave and captured everyone hiding out there."

"McTavish!" Harry said suddenly, and Snape's eyes narrowed at the name.

"That's what I thought too," Evelyn said with a twinkle in her eyes. "Blaine McTavish was just the kind of person who would be interested in that sort of thing. I bet that he would have wanted to go back in time to save his daughter, before she was killed. I did not know if I was right, but I was desperate, and I thought that with those notes being so clearly filled with magical writings, he would not have dared leave them out in the open, because that would have easily pointed to him being a wizard. Thus, he would have hidden the notes. The idea consumed me, and after a little while I knew exactly where he would have hidden them too. Back before he went mad, I used to visit him sometimes at his farm, and his wife had this nice old trunk that he had carved for her for Christmas. We used to be friends, back then. Everyone was welcome in his home, the whole lot of us, before it all." She said this part sadly as she looked down at her hands, her eyebrows gently crinkled. "Anyway, he asked me for some feedback on the trunk, to get a woman's opinions on his idea for the carving on the lid. While I was there, he showed me how there was a magically concealed false bottom that could only be opened by a spell, so that they could hide whatever might make the muggles suspect them for anything, because he had a fair few muggle friends too. He was very excited about it. It was quite clever, and after some thought, I decided to go into town to take a peek around his old home when I had the chance."

"Wouldn't he have given his things to his brother when he died?" Snape said, puzzled. "If James McTavish had the chest, then it would have been in the Potioneer's Society, right? We didn't burn it, did we?"

"At first, I thought that too, Severus," said Evelyn with a slight smile about her lips. "Until, of course, I recalled that James McTavish was rich. Very, rich, and Blaine gave up any money that he would have had being the eldest, as well as any chance he had to look after the family estate. Instead, he conceded to his wife's wish for their children to be raised where she grew up, meaning James got the fortune and the land. He didn't need that trunk, nor any of Blaine's things. But his wife had a sister, who was a muggle, and lived in town in an old run down shack. She was quite poor, and Blaine, however sick and twisted he was, cared a great deal about her. When I was hidden nearby, observing his old home, sure enough, her family was living in it, which meant he must have left it to her. I was willing to bet that she had her sister's trunk too, and she knew nothing of the secret hiding spot in it, because she wasn't magical."

"So you broke in, right?" Harry said, breathlessly.

"When they went to church on Sunday, I broke in, yes," said Evelyn gravely, "and I found the trunk. I opened it like I had seen McTavish do years before, and sure enough, a whole pile of his things were still in there. The notes included, thankfully. They were the only things of real value to me in there, and so I took only them, and left for a quiet place to remake the experiment.

"It took me a few months to do it with the help of the notes. It was tricky, even with instruction. You see, the original powder was enchanted so that that it would return whatever it brought back in time to the point of origin when it was supposed to. The problem was that I only wanted to go one way. I did not want to return to my point of origin, and wanted to remain in the future. So, I had to charm it a little differently, a lot like what Ellery and I did the second time the powder was made for you two, what with the return powder being separate. But as I said earlier, I could not recall all of that.

"Now, in his first attempt Ellery had wanted to accomplish the time travel by sending the sphere into the future first, to bring someone of advanced magical knowledge back. He later decided that it would work the same way if it went through time naturally, because once it was found the person would be brought back instantly to us, so he dropped that idea halfway through. He still had notes on how he was going to send the sphere to the future, and this powder would work on its own, because it was to be separate from the mixture of powder within the sphere. I was able to figure it out after a few months, comparing his initial attempt to the notes on his successful invention. I did one large batch of powder, and split it into two doses. One I saved in a charmed phial so it could not activate and I could use it if it worked, and the other I one I tested. It exhibited the correct signs that Ellery described when he first tested his powder. I performed the same test, and the results were identical."

"How did he test it?" Snape asked curiously.

"Well, he covered a squirrel in the powder," said Evelyn, holding back a laugh. "Then he observed it disappearing, and then waited for it to return. It came back about a minute after it disappeared, because the charm that recorded the time was not completely perfect, but it worked."

"Did yours come back?" Harry asked.

"Well, no," said Evelyn, looking slightly nervous at the thought. "I caught a mouse and used the powder on it, and it showed the same signs as Ellery's squirrel, but I knew it would not come back because I did not create the return powder. I did not know if it was sent to the time I charmed it to, but I did know it went somewhere."

"You mean you took that big of a risk?" Snape said, flabbergasted. "Why?"

"Why not?" Evelyn said, trembling slightly, her words shaking further the more she spoke. "Severus, it had been years at that point. Six whole years, and a part of me hoped that I would forget about you, but I never could."

"Me neither," muttered Snape back, and Harry took an intense interest in his teacup. The two seemed to notice his discomfort when he started to hum to himself.

"But how did you know what year to come to?" Harry asked now that Snape and Evelyn had remembered his presence.

"Precisely what I was wondering," said Snape, his brow furrowed. "I think I might have mentioned once what year we came from, perhaps, but I am not sure."

"Maybe you did," said Evelyn, "but after that long, I could not remember."

"How then -" Snape began, flabbergasted.

Evelyn grinned so suddenly it was alarming, and then reached down to the little bag at her feet.

"You forgot something," she said cheekily, holding up a book.

Harry and Snape looked at each other, both unable to hold back the sudden laughter, for Evelyn was holding up a very familiar library book.

"Madam Pince will be pleased," Harry said.

"I wonder if she will give back those three galleons," Snape snorted, then briefly explained Madam Pince's visit to Evelyn.

"Well, it is a good thing you left it," said Evelyn gratefully when he finished. "I looked at the date on the sign-out card. I should have thought of that earlier, because we used a similar system in the Parker Library, but the book brought back too many bad memories so I hadn't opened it up since I last saw you two, though I kept it anyway."

"So why didn't you come back to 1991?" Snape asked. "That was when Harry took the book out."

"Well," said Evelyn with a frown, "I thought that I came back to the year you two left from, until you told me how long it had been, Severus. You may have noticed that the pages of the book are rippling slightly. It's taken some water damage, so the dates were smudged on the card. I thought it said 1995 because the ink had run badly. I think it might have gotten wet from that damned roof back in London." She scowled heavily. "Although, I was positive that we kept it in a place where the roof didn't leak, but I guess not."

Snape groaned suddenly, putting his face in his hands. He looked up at Harry, and in an instant Harry realized what Snape was thinking.

"Your rucksack!" Harry said.

"My rucksack," Snape said, looking ready to kick himself. "It was raining when we arrived in London, remember? My rucksack needed a new waterproofing charm. The bread got soaked, and so did the book. I am so, so sorry Evelyn."

"I am not angry," she said. "How on earth could you have foreseen that?"

"I guess you are right," he said with a sigh. "I just wish I had remembered that stupid charm. If I had, perhaps things would have turned out differently."

She squeezed his hand gently, and he let the matter rest, though Harry could tell he was beating himself up over it.

"Once I used the powder I set out trying to find out if it worked," said Evelyn after a moment or two. "I did not know if it did for some time because I made sure to use it in a remote location, where there would not be any buildings so I did not accidentally get stuck inside a wall, or something ridiculous like that. I walked into a city, and wow, did it look strange! You two will have to tell me all that's changed. I was only in the city long enough to ask someone the date." Evelyn giggled for a second, to Harry and Snape's amusement. "The person I asked couldn't figure out why I started crying out of happiness. I think it did not help that I asked them what year it was, which sounds crazy no matter who asks it. But, as soon as I found an empty alley I transformed into my animagus form and flew to Hogwarts. I didn't see anyone, oddly enough when I came into the Entrance Hall. I wandered around a little until I walked straight through a ghost. Gave me a nasty shock. He introduced himself to me, because he could tell I was not from around here. He had a terribly long name ..."

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington?" said Harry, amused.

"Yes," said Evelyn, surprised.

"He always introduces himself that way," Harry told her fondly. "He doesn't mind being called Nick; just don't call him Nearly-Headless Nick."

"Why would I call him that?" Evelyn asked, bewildered.

"Well, he is nearly headless, obviously," said Snape as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Evelyn looked at him, confused. He frowned slightly after a moment. "Right, sorry. I have lived her most of my life, so I tend to forget others do not know the story. He was supposed to have his head chopped off but the executioner did a bad job. When he died it was still hanging in there, though just barely, so he wears a large ruff to keep it up."

"You two really need to fill me in on everything around here," said Evelyn, in amused wonder. "Well, nearly headless or not, Nick led me down to your classroom. He left to go elsewhere once he had showed me the door, but he seemed rather amazed that a woman would be coming to visit you."

"Well, no doubt everyone else in the castle will be shocked to the core when they find out about the two of us," Snape said, rolling his eyes. "They all think I'm a reclusive vampire, or something of that nature."

"No, no, everyone is convinced you can turn into bat," Harry corrected him with a smirk. "Only the first years think you're a vampire. They usually do until they realize that you don't have the teeth for it."

"Thank you for clarifying, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled in his teaching voice.

Harry and Evelyn laughed at this.

"So, when are you introducing me?" Evelyn said, still chuckling.

"There might be a widespread incidence of cardiac arrest if I go up in front of the school and introduce you that way," said Snape. "How about we tell one person at a time, as they ask. What about we say that you lived out in the countryside, and went abroad for school?"

"Sounds good to me," said Evelyn cheerfully.

"Although, we can tell Dumbledore the truth," said Snape, glancing at his watch. "I told him we would go and meet him soon, so I am afraid that you are going to have to leave, Harry."

"Alright," he said with a shrug. "It was great to see you, Evelyn. I trust you'll be around?"

"I think so," said Evelyn with a smile.

"There's bound to be something you can do around here," said Severus. "It seems like we are always short of staff. But whatever you do, Evelyn, do not take the Defense against the Dark Arts position. It's cursed. Nobody lasts more than a year."

"Cursed? Well, in that case, maybe I can help this evil Madam Pince," said Evelyn with a laugh as they followed Harry out the door. "I am sure she could use a hand, and my library experience might help."

"Actually ... that's not a bad idea," muttered Snape. "Pince is old as the hills too. She's bound to retire soon ... or croak."

Harry snorted with laughter, leaning up against the wall of Snape's office as Evelyn made to open the door out into the corridor.

"Repeat that and you will be writing lines until your hand falls off," Snape said sternly.

"Yes, sir," Harry said breathlessly as he followed them out into the corridor. He walked with them until he had to turn for Gryffindor tower.

He rather wished he could keep walking with them, as he was enjoying the hilarious looks students had on their faces when they saw Evelyn and Snape walking side by side, Evelyn hanging onto Snape's arm as he told her all about the castle. Harry said a quiet goodbye to them, and went up to the Gryffindor Common room to mull over the day's events. He told Ron and Hermione all about what happened under the cover of Fred and George's noisy demonstrations of their skiving snack boxes, leaving out the part about Snape and Evelyn falling for each other. He did not particularly want to discuss that turn of events, because he had a feeling that it would be pretty awkward. They talked until darkness fell, and then they all went to bed.

As Harry put his pyjamas on he was surprised by the sound of a tap on his window, and he opened it to see a great horned owl fluttering outside his window. He recognized it as Snape's, and he let it in. It dropped a small note on his pillow before fluttering out the window again. Harry ripped open the note, and Ron paused in taking his socks off to watch.

Harry was surprised to see that the note was in Evelyn's writing.

Dear Harry,

Severus and I just met with Dumbledore, and he liked the idea for me to help out in the Library, but he had a different thought on what I could do around the castle. He said that Professor Binns recently mentioned that he wants to settle down a little bit, seeing as he's been teaching for at least a hundred years. So, after Christmas I get to take over his position! Dumbledore even agreed to add a section to the fifth and sixth year curriculums on the Potioneer's Society, and wizarding customs in the 1600s! He said he thought teaching history would be a great way for me to get familiar with what has happened in the last few centuries, as well as breathe some life into the subject at the same time. So I guess I will be studying a lot, but I always wanted to be an academic. I was home schooled, so I never got to go to Hogwarts in my day. I hope you are as excited as I am. Severus thinks you will be, having also had Professor Binns as a teacher once. Was he that boring of a teacher, or is Severus exaggerating?

All the best,

Evelyn

P.S. Of course, that's Professor Llewellyn to you now!

"What's it say?" Ron asked curiously.

"Ron, History of Magic just got a whole lot more interesting," he said. "Guess who's retiring."

A few minutes later there was a pounding on the door. Harry opened it, and Hermione stood in the doorway wearing her dressing gown, her hands on her hips.

"What on earth are all of you celebrating?" she asked as she glanced around the room, Seamus, Dean and Neville having heard the news as well. "I heard Ron shouting all the way from the girls' dorm."

"Binns is going to be gone after Christmas!" Ron said, looking positively euphoric. "He's retiring!"

"Well, you shouldn't be acting this way about it," said Hermione. "It is rude to Professor Binns."

"Come on, tell me you aren't excited?" Harry said, grinning. "It'll be nice to have a new Professor. She's even an expert on medieval wizarding customs. Admit it, it'll be interesting!"

"Alright, I agree with you," Hermione said reluctantly, "but that's beside the point."

"And that point being?" Ron said still grinning.

"Oh, you are impossible, Ron Weasley," she said airily. "But you do know what this means, don't you?"

"What?" Ron asked, confused. The other boys fell silent, intrigued.

"If Binns isn't putting everyone to sleep you're going to have to learn to take your own notes now," Hermione said, amused.

Ron spluttered, eyes wide with shock.

Seamus and Dean collapsed in laughter at the look on his face. Harry and Neville followed suit, and Hermione cheerfully said goodnight before shutting the door with a snap.

Ron looked at Harry once the laughter calmed down, and then said under his breath to Harry, "Well, there has to be a bright side to this. Is she pretty, at least?"

"Yeah," Harry said quietly, shrugging. He grinned. "But she's taken."

"By who?" Ron asked curiously, his voice low.

Harry grinned, but shook his head.

"Come on Harry, tell me!" Ron said, intrigued by Harry's response to his question.

"Let me just say you'll get a hundred detentions and lose Gryffindor the House cup if you even so much as wink at Evelyn."

"Hang on ... you don't mean -" Ron spluttered, looking horrified.

Harry stifled a laugh and shut the hangings on his bed, flopping down on the mattress and holding his hand over his mouth as he listened Ron's continued exclamations nearby.

"What are you going on about, Ron?" asked Neville sleepily.

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you," Ron grumbled before snuffing out the candle by his bed, plunging the area into darkness.

"If you say so, then," Neville muttered back, exasperated.

Harry grinned, then closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, content. If someone had asked him yesterday if he thought that Evelyn's would return, he probably would have said no. However, he had never been happier in his life to be wrong. Sleepily, he smiled to himself, and the last thing he thought before he went to sleep was that perhaps, time did heal some wounds.