“Past?” Severus asked, astonished. “As in, the past? We’ve gone back in time?”

“Not exactly,” Lily replied. “We’re not really here. We’re only observing. Like in a Pensieve.”

As he looked at her, he realised with a jolt that she no longer resembled a ghost. Lily was in full colour, for all the world as if she were still alive at twenty-one; but after a moment he realised that she was still slightly transparent. When he looked down at their still-clasped hands, he realised he was, as well.

“Come on.”

Lily pulled him into the house—straight through the closed door, as if he were a ghost too. Inside, the house was warm, well-kept and decorated just as lavishly as outside. Voices came from the kitchen, where four people were enthusiastically devouring Christmas dinner. Well, three of them were—the fourth, a bony horse-faced woman who looked vaguely familiar—was rather more dignified about it than her overweight companions.

“Petunia.” Severus saw Lily was scowling at her, now. The other Evans sister showed no sign she had heard; the room’s occupants merely ignored them. “Well, Severus?”

“Er … well, what?”

“Have you noticed what’s missing?”

Severus frowned, taking a closer look at the disgusting display. A large walrus-like man, and a woman who could only be his sister; a child that looked more like a beach ball in a blonde wig.

The Knut dropped. “Where’s Po—Harry?”

“Exactly,” Lily said quietly.

“I thought he grew up with them?”

“He did.”

“So where—”

Lily led him back outside, and towards the garden shed. For a moment Severus was flummoxed, but then she entered and pulled him inside as well.

A small child—much smaller than his cousin—was sitting on the floor. He was surrounded by gardening equipment, forced to huddle in a small gap between the lawnmower and a stack of crates. He was wrapped up in a very thin blanket, and shivering like mad.

Severus stared. That couldn’t be Harry Potter. But a sob from Lily confirmed he was.

“Oh, Harry,” Lily whispered, reaching out a hand to her son—but it just went straight through him without any reaction. “Oh, baby …”

Footsteps announced one of the Dursleys approaching, and Severus and Lily looked round to see Vernon opening the shed door.

“So, boy, I hope you’ve learned your lesson about touching Dudley’s presents?”

“Y-y-yes, Uncle V-Vernon,” Harry stuttered. “P-p-please Unc-cle, it’s f-f-freezing in here.”

Vernon slammed down the roasting tin he had been carrying. It held the remains of the turkey—which was really only a carcass with a few measly bits of meat still attached—and a few limp vegetables. Harry eyed them with a hungry look in his eyes.

“No! I’m not going to have you pulling any more stunts like that. The cupboard’s obviously too good for you. You’re staying out here till Aunt Marge is gone and if there’s any more freaky business, you will be here until school starts again, is that clear?”

“Y-y-yes Uncle.”

“And if you ever contaminate one of Dudley’s toys again—”

“I didn’t pick it up, it just flew into my hand!”

Lily let out a cry of rage, and Severus felt a rush of anger himself, as Vernon struck the boy hard. Harry was knocked backwards into a rack of spades and rakes, which started to fall down on him. He barely made a sound as they all clattered to the floor.

“Think yourself lucky you’re getting any Christmas dinner at all,” Vernon snarled, before retreating and slamming the door shut behind him. Severus heard the lock click.

Once his uncle was gone, Harry crawled out from under the tools and seized the food. He stuffed the vegetables in his mouth and was attacking the turkey bones like an animal before he’d finished swallowing, as if afraid his uncle would change his mind and take the food away.

It was the most pitiful sight Severus had ever seen—and he had seen a lot.

“I can’t believe they …” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

“This was the year Harry nearly died of hypothermia,” Lily said in a hollow, staring sorrowfully at her son.

Severus didn’t know how to respond to that. His emotions were in a complete state, his mind struggling to comprehend what he had witnessed. It didn’t add up—Potter was supposed to have been spoiled rotten by his relatives; that was what he had always thought …

He jumped as Lily took his hand again, and led him outside.

She was sobbing, her head in her hands. Severus tried awkwardly to put an arm around her shoulders, to comfort her; but she threw it off, temper blazing again. “Get off me! This is your fault, Severus!”

“Mine?” Severus exclaimed. “How is it mine? That brute’s responsible for his own actions; it’s got nothing to do with me!”

“Of course he’s responsible; but you were supposed to look after Harry!” Lily cried. “You promised me!”

Maybe it was the hot guilt burning in his chest now that caused Severus to continue arguing.

“And how could I have done that? Lily, you know my position, you know I couldn’t—”

“That’s an excuse and you know it! You just didn’t want to! You never even checked up on him! I’d have thought you could at least have done that!”

With her every word, Severus felt worse, but he continued stubbornly, “And if I had checked up on him? Then what?”

“Don’t try to tell me you couldn’t have done something if you’d seen what was going on. And you of all people would have seen.”

“Oh, really. So what would I have done?”

Lily paused. “I can show you.”

Severus forgot his anger, confused. “What? What do you mean?”

“I can show you not just what did happen, Severus. I can show you different timelines. How things could have been in certain situations; how they are in other realities. And I know just which one to show you now.”

Different realities? What could have been? Severus’ head was spinning.

Lily took his hand again, and the whirlwind came back. The next thing he knew, he was on a different road.

He knew this one. The houses were all three-story Georgian period, and on the corner was a children’s park. A sign on the wall read Belfry Road. On the house in front of them, to Severus’ astonishment, a wreath had been hung below the number Sixty-Six, and a string of golden lights were strung over the porch.

“Why are we here?” he asked in a hoarse voice, already afraid he knew the answer.

Lily didn’t answer, but took his hand and led him into his own home.