“Tibby,” Snape commanded imperiously. A small pause. “Febby, then.” A longer pause. “Teela! Show yourself!”

Harry considered his professor. Had Snape gone barking mad?

“Winky then,” Snape sighed, something remarkably like defeat seeping into his voice. And then, wincing “Dobby, I command you to come here!”

Oh. Summoning house elves. Good idea, but then everything in this room seemed absolutely determined to ignore Snape.

Harry wondered if he should try, or if Snape would hurl another book at him. He winced, gingerly touching the bridge of his nose. It was still really tender, but he would live. Harry wished he had a mirror so he could assess the damage.

A small pocket mirror appeared with a snap directly over Snape’s head. It fell harmlessly with a tinkle against Snape’s robes. Snape picked it up, brows deeply furrowed at this new mystery.

Thanks, Harry thought crossly. But next time, you should aim towards me.

Another mirror, identical to the first, appeared in Harry’s lap. He picked it up, slightly bemused, and examined himself in the mirror. The handkerchief had done a fairly good job, but he still looked rather a mess.

Snape sighed as if disappointed, and then addressed Harry for the first time since the nose incident. “Did you conjure both mirrors, or just the second one?”

“Both of them,” Harry admitted.

Snape fiddled with his mirror, turning the thing over in his hands. Then, grimacing, he said quietly “Perhaps you could conjure us food instead of mirrors.”

“Okay,” Harry said awkwardly. He looked thoughtfully at the mirrors. I need you to turn into sandwiches, please.

The mirrors immediately transformed into a pile of thick, juicy ham sandwiches. Snape examined one critically, and then briskly began to eat. Harry set to his food with gusto.

“And now some water would be lovely,” Harry decided out loud. Two glasses of water appeared, before he had even properly turned it into a thought, or said anything about warriors. But, actually, Harry thought to himself, the last few requests had been much easier and simpler. Odd. It was almost like the room was adjusting to his magic. Or maybe it was more that the room was beginning to like him.

Snape seemed to be realizing the same thing, for his lips thinned and he didn’t say another word until the food and water had been consumed. He clearly could not be on good terms with a room that liked Harry Potter. He marched back to his corner, tossing behind him “If you would be so good as to vanish the rubbish, Potter” as he went.

Harry tried his best to ignore this and asked the rubbish to please vanish. The room seemed to respond better to politeness. Then he turned towards the door and, hoping against hope, tried everything he could think of to get the door to open. But no amount of cajoling or trickery would work, and Harry stopped before long, anxious not to offend the room.

Snape smirked and seemed slightly restored by this failure. Harry decided he had more pressing things to worry about. Namely, he really, REALLY needed to use the toilet. So did Snape, probably. Perhaps all that water had not been a good idea. He tried to get the room to conjure him a bathroom (quietly, so Snape wouldn’t hear) but it didn’t work. Maybe the room really was offended by Harry attempting to break out of it, he mused.

Harry considered peeing into a corner, but he wanted to avoid that as long as possible. And that might really, er, piss off the room. Instead he pulled out the parchment formerly known as his divination textbook, and studied it, desperate for a distraction. This parchment had to be good for something, right? A warrior would need it, after all. Harry settled back into his corner and pulled his quill out of his bag.

Hello he scribbled. His words disappeared almost immediately, to be replaced by a Hi written in a strangely familiar scrawl. Harry’s heartbeat quickened. Was he talking to Tom Riddle again? Was this like the diary? Who are you? He wrote. I hate the Dursleys was his response. Harry straightened and realized why the handwriting was so familiar. It was his own.

“Potter? What are you doing?” came Snape’s voice, a hint of urgency to it. “That scroll could be some kind of trick!”

Harry considered his options. But, in the end, he wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing. Take me to you he scribbled on the paper. Uncle Vernon hit me today flashed quickly on the parchment, and then Harry felt the familiar sensation of being wrenched into a memory. The last thing he heard was Snape’s panicked “Potter!” behind him.

And, then, he was at Number 4, Privet Drive, a smaller version of himself staring owlishly back at him. His younger version looked to be about six or seven. “Hullo,” the child said, undisturbed. “Go on, then, I’ve got to get to the dishes.” He turned away and seemed to fade into the scenery, if that were possible. Harry made to grab at him, but his hand went right through him as little Harry walked into the kitchen.

Well. This was unexpected. Then, a glorious, magnificent, beautiful realization came to Harry.

He could use the toilet here.

Harry scampered upstairs with glee, and did so. Apparently one could use the toilet in one’s own memory. Stranger and stranger. Harry walked into the hallway, curious about why the parchment had led him here. The upstairs seemed deserted, so Harry continued downstairs.

Uncle Vernon and Dudley were lolling about on the sofa, watching television. Aunt Petunia was tidying up behind them, her little eyes darting around as usual. It seemed to be a lazy summer afternoon. Harry saw Dudley’s new dinosaur lying discarded on the ground. Oh, God, how he had lusted after that toy. But he never had gotten to so much as touch it. It had disappeared mysteriously one afternoon, and Harry had never seen it again. But he had been punished for its disappearance. It had been quite a scene, Harry remembered, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Without really thinking about it, Harry picked the dinosaur up. It was smaller than he had remembered, but just as lovely as he could have hoped. Harry stuck it in his pocket, some ancient hurt vibrating within him. Then he went into the kitchen to see what little Harry was up to. If this was like the Riddle diary, then he had to watch something or do something or talk to someone before he would be spit back into the present. Harry firmly refused to dwell on the idea that his impulsiveness would trap him here. He was just as trapped in the Room, wasn’t he?

Little Harry was just finishing up with the dishes. He didn’t seem to notice his older counterpart at all. Just then, a howl erupted from the living room. Dudley had discovered that his dinosaur was missing.

Harry froze. What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t just go picking things up in another dimension and change the past! He hurriedly took the little figurine out and ran into the living room. He tried to put the toy on the table, but it simply went through the wood. Harry sucked in his breath. Was it part of his dimension now? He spent a panicked couple of minutes trying to put the dinosaur somewhere, anywhere, but this world seemed to refuse to accept it.

Harry looked up, heart racing as his younger version was dragged into the living room by Aunt Petunia. Oh, now he remembered this day. Now he remembered it perfectly.

“I didn’t take his dinosaur, honest!” the younger Harry was insisting. Aunt Petunia gave him a smack for his efforts. “Don’t lie, you!” she returned, shaking him. Dudley and Uncle Vernon watched this exchange with interest. Usually Petunia left the violence to them. “Now, you give him his dinosaur, or no food for a week!”

Little Harry had no answer for this, but instead schooled his features and began to grimly look for the dinosaur. Harry watched him, a feeling of dread in his stomach. He really didn’t want to watch the rest of this, but something told him he wouldn’t be able to leave until he did.

“Well, boy?” barked Uncle Vernon. “Have you got it or not?”

“No,” Harry admitted. But, in a rare show of defiance, he added “But I didn’t take it. Dudley must have lost it.”

Well, this was unheard of, blaming Dudley in the Dursley household. Dudley began to sob, big fat crocodile tears running down his face. He stuck his tongue at Harry between wails. Aunt Petunia began to shake Harry again, hard. “Don’t you say that about Dudley!” She spat. Then she shoved Harry towards his uncle. “Make him see sense, Vernon!”

Vernon seemed slightly reluctant to get off the comforts of the couch. “Give me the dinosaur, and then its into your cupboard for you,” he said gruffly. Little Harry looked desperately around, somehow knowing that this was his last chance. He wished with all his heart for a dinosaur, and suddenly a little creature appeared with a pop in the living room.

It was a dinosaur toy, but not the Muggle kind. It emitted a tiny roar and began to graze on the carpet.

The Dursleys stared at it, open-mouthed. Then, as one, they swiveled their heads at Harry. And, then, chaos. His aunt and uncle started to scream, and Dudley, frightened for real, began to sob afresh.

“Make it go away, freak!” roared Uncle Vernon, his fat body wobbling in fear. “NOW!” The whole family jumped on the furniture, making sure they were well away from the sleepy little brontosaurus, who was now stretching his neck.

The younger Harry swallowed, panic threatening to overwhelm him. He had done it again. And they were going to kill him if he couldn’t make it go away. He got really close to the little dinosaur and hovered over it, almost afraid to touch it. “Go away,” he whispered. “Please.” The dinosaur began to scratch itself. “Please,” Harry begged, nearly at the end of his rope. The dinosaur toy, in response, stood up on its hind feet and attempted to nuzzle Harry’s leg. The Dursleys gasped in horror, and Vernon, from the couch, leaned over to give Harry an almighty smack on his shoulder. Harry grimaced, thrown forward by the blow. “NOW, FREAK!”

“GO AWAY!” Harry yelled at the little toy, voice cracking. Finally, in desperation, he threw the animal against the wall. It emitted a pained yowl. And then it went still. And then it disappeared.

Several things happened at once. Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by his mop of hair. Dudley stopped crying. And Aunt Petunia started to screech about the mark the toy had left on the wall. Uncle Vernon slapped Harry across the face, hard, with his free hand. Blood immediately started spurting from the boy’s nose. And then he threw him in his cupboard, roaring that Harry would stay there for the rest of the summer and no meals for the next two weeks.

The older Harry felt a tug behind his navel, and he tumbled away from the memory, still clutching the Muggle toy in his hand.

Snape must have been studying the parchment, because Harry was returned right on top of him. The two of them were a mess of limbs, thrashing about, until Harry could extricate himself properly. Out of breath, he scrambled away from the professor on all fours until he bumped up against the wall. Snape stood up, towering over him. Harry’s eyes darted to the parchment lying between them. Take me to Potter was scribbled on it in Snape’s handwriting. Then Take me to Harry Potter. And, then, below that, Help Me.

But the parchment had not answered Snape. He saw Harry looking at the crumpled piece of paper, and viciously kicked it out of his line of vision. “So,” he sneered, as Harry stared fixedly at the ground. “So.”

Only Snape could inject that much malice into two words, Harry thought. He craned his neck up at last. Snape’s nose looked even more hawk-like than usual from this angle.

“Get up, Potter,” Snape growled, hauling Harry to his feet as he did so. Only then did Harry smell an acrid sent in the room. Harry flushed, and felt the tiniest bit sorry for Snape. He silently asked the Room to vanish it, and the smell immediately disappeared.

Two identical spots of color appeared in Snape’s pale cheeks. “You will explain yourself now,” he said stiffly.

Harry shifted from foot to foot. He didn’t really want to go into it, but he doubted Snape would accept that. He wondered if Snape could use Legilimency in here. He looked into Snape’s eyes, allowing all thoughts of the Toy Trauma to drift to the forefront of his mind.

Snape stared back, brows furrowed as if in confusion. Something seemed to shudder through him as he realized what Potter was after.

“Verbally,” he clarified stiffly. “The other is not at my disposal.”

Geez. Harry felt even sorrier for Snape. This room had turned him into a Muggle. His thoughts must have been written across his face, because Snape growled “Do not pity me, Potter, or I will give you something to feel sorry about.”

Harry frowned and decided it would be best to change the subject. “The parchment took me to a memory. A memory of mine,” he clarified, seeing the question on Snape’s face. “It took me to the Dursley home in Surrey.”

Snape quirked an eyebrow. “And you did what there?”

Harry grimaced but figured there was nothing for it. “I used the loo, and talked briefly to myself at six, and watched the Dursleys, um, interact with…the other Harry.”

“I see,” Snape said, hands folded under his chin as he considered this. “Was there anything extraordinary about this memory?”

Yes, Harry thought. I think that was the first time I thought they were going to kill me.

“No sir,” Harry replied.

Snape pursed his lips. “I do not believe you,” he pronounced. “And I fail to see how this childhood memory of yours is going to get us out of here. But perhaps you do?”

Harry gaped at his professor. Was Snape asking him for help? He carefully considered the question, sticking his hands in his pockets. Ah. The dinosaur was still there.

“Well,” Harry said hesitantly. Was Snape going to kill him over this? “I took something from the memory.”

“You took something from the memory,” Snape echoed in disbelief, his voice going up an octave. “Did anybody notice that this object was missing? And what did you remove?”

“I—I took one of my cousin’s toys,” Harry admitted. “And, yes, they noticed it was missing.”

This seemed to unleash something in Snape. “And WHAT phenomenally idiotic reason did you have for doing THAT? You stupid child, do you have ANY idea how dangerous it is to fool with time?”

“Yes, actually,” Harry shot back. “I probably have more of an idea than you do!”

“That’s misdirection worthy of a Slytherin,” Snape sneered. “But let us focus on the present crisis. You have removed an object from the past, and its absence was noted by at least three people besides yourself! Your actions could have far-reaching consequences! But, then, you never think of others, do you, when you go off on one of your hair-brained misadventures? What were you thinking, interacting with an unknown magic artifact? Who knows where it could have taken you!”

“Well, it couldn’t be worse than Tom Riddle, could it?” Harry said defensively. “And that turned out alright, didn’t it?”

“You are even more arrogant than your father was!” Snape erupted, spittle flying from his mouth. “At least he never thought lightly of the Dark Lord! Or maybe he did, using that weakling Pettigrew for a Secret-Keeper! No wonder he ended up dead, the fool! And you! An even bigger fool--”

“You shut up!” Harry yelled, fury bubbling within him. “You shut UP, Snape, or I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” Snape sneered, looming over Harry. He had at least a foot and fifty pounds on him. “Be quiet before you make a fool of yourself, Potter!”

“Or I’ll tell the room to hurt you,” Harry said quietly. “Don’t you ever mention my father’s death to me again, Snape.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” whispered Snape. “I’d have you expelled so quickly your head would spin.”

“Yes, why don’t you run off to Umbridge right now,” scoffed Harry. “You seem to believe we are still in Hogwarts, Professor. But we aren’t, not really. And I have the power here.”

“Yes,” Snape whispered, eyes glittering. “You do. And the question remains, Potter: What will you do with that power?”

At that, Harry deflated. He swallowed. He didn’t want to be a bully. He looked up at Snape from underneath his fringe. “What do you think I should do?”

The answer seemed to please Snape. “I think you should enter the memory, return the toy, and hope for the best.”

Harry cocked his head. “But that’s just it, Professor. I’m not sure I changed the past or not. Because, you see, I do have a memory of a toy--” He fished the dinosaur out of his pocket and showed it to Snape “of this toy disappearing mysteriously one afternoon. Nothing in my memory seemed…different. It happened just like I remembered.”

Snape tapped the fingers of his left hand against his side. “I see,” he said, brow furrowed. Then, exasperated, he threw his arms in the air. “Then I fail to see the point of any of this!”

“I know, Harry admitted. “I don’t get it, either.” He hesitated. “And, I tried to, um, replace the dinosaur already. But I couldn’t, not once I had picked it up. I really don’t think I changed anything, Professor.”

“So,” Snape mused. “Perhaps this is all happening as it should, then. By going back into the memory and altering it, it has now happened just as you remembered.”

Harry nodded. That had almost made sense to him. “So, what now?” he asked Snape.

The question seemed to surprise Snape. “I confess myself at a loss. Why don’t you inquire of the Room?”

“Okay,” Harry said agreeably. “Erm, Room, what do we require now?”

And suddenly Harry felt himself whirling back, back into another time and place. Little Harry was staring up at him owlishly. “Hullo,” the child said, undisturbed. “Go on, then, I’ve got to get to the dishes.” As before, he turned away and walked into the kitchen.

“You certainly were a runty little thing, weren’t you?” Snape drawled. “Is this the memory you were in before, Potter?”

Wordlessly, Harry nodded.