“Harry, calm down and tell me what's wrong!”

Sirius was following Harry up the stairs that lead to the corridor. Harry had the piece of paper tucked tightly in his hand.

As soon as Harry reached the corridor, he spun around to face Sirius, who was standing on the top step, looking startled.

“I don't know why,” Harry started, sounding rather breathless, “but, at first I thought I forgot because I hit my head when I fell or something, but as soon as I saw this—I remember, Sirius, how I got here!”

Sirius stared at Harry wordlessly before a smile broke out onto his face. “You're not kidding, are you?” he said excitedly. “This is—great, honestly—we can tell Dumbledore and get Snape back and—”

Then the excitement left Sirius's face, and he was left looking disappointed as he said, “And you can go back, Harry…”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but found he couldn't. He shut his open mouth, glancing down at the floor.

“Look,” Sirius said softly, “Let's go to the kitchen, I'll make us a drink, we'll find the other Snape and then we'll go see Dumbledore.” Sirius paused, frowning, as he said his words over again in his head. “On second thought, why don't we go see Dumbledore first and then get ourselves a drink?” Sirius corrected himself.

Harry nodded eagerly. “Maybe then Severus will be back with us.”

Sirius lifted his foot to start walking, but froze. Slowly, he lowered his foot and bent down, picking a piece of paper up off the step. He unfolded it, skimming across what was read.

“What is it?” Harry asked tentatively, trying to get a better look at the paper in Sirius's hand.

Sirius shook his head. “I don't know, but I don't know why it's here. I've never seen it before.”

Sirius handed the paper to Harry, who immediately took it and began to read it. His eyes widened, and he started to hop back and forth on his feet. He lifted his eyes to look at Sirius, his smile widening.

“I think this is it,” Harry whispered excitedly, shaking the paper. “This might be how we get Severus back!”

“Harry,” Sirius said, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders to stop him from jumping. “S—stand still, all right, kiddo? Now are you sure that this piece of paper will get Snape back?”

“We can try, at least,” Harry said, his voice growing louder. Without waiting for Sirius, he started to run down the corridor, past the dining area and into the foyer, where he stopped short.

Snape was coming down the stairs, his lip curled in disgust, but Harry ignored that.

“Read this, P—Professor Snape,” Harry said uncertainly, holding the paper out. “Please.”

Snape crossed the foyer, snatching the paper from Harry's hand. “What is this?” he demanded. “I am not reading anything, Potter.”

“If you want to go back to your reality,” Sirius said, walking over to Harry. “Then I think that you should listen to Harry and just read it.”

“Black,” Snape snarled, “I am not going to read this!”

“Harry thinks that it might help to get you back to your reality!” Sirius yelled, frowning in anger. “That's how he and this Snape ended up going to different realities—by reading that other piece of paper that Harry has in his hand!”

Snape looked down at the paper in his own hands, scowling. “Is it some type of silly incantation? These words would possibly send me back?”

“I—it's my theory,” Harry answered quietly, averting his eyes from Snape's.

“Oh, of course,” Snape said sarcastically. “A theory from a mere thirteen-year-old.”

“Twelve-year-old,” Sirius corrected loudly, realizing that that bit of information didn't help matters much. He lowered his voice as he added, “…Technically, at the moment.”

Harry looked back up, waiting patiently for Snape to start reading. He was just staring at the paper, scowling—why wouldn't he read? The quicker this Snape was gone and Severus was back would've been the best.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of silence and standing, Snape started to read the paper—although each word that came out of his mouth was distasteful and reluctant.

“Permissum veneficus futurus laxo, illico hinc noctis, illico hinc hora.”

Snape looked around, an annoyed look on his face, saying, “Nothing happened, Potter. So much for your—”

Snape's eyes grew slightly larger as he doubled over, taking in a sharp intake of breath. He jerked backwards, letting himself double over onto the floor. Then, the next second, he sunk, disappearing right into the floor.

Harry's own eyes grew large and he looked up at Sirius, who was gaping at the spot where Snape once was.

“Wh—what happened?” Sirius asked, his voice soft and a little shaky. “He just… fell through the… floor?”

“I don't know,” Harry whispered, looking scared. “Si—Sirius, what if I hurt him?”

Sirius frowned, looking down at the boy. “How could you have hurt him?”

“I made him read the paper!” Harry insisted. “What if it was… something wrong…?”

Sirius, however, didn't have time to answer. He jumped back, letting out a loud yelp as something fell through the ceiling.

--

Severus paced through Dumbledore's office. How long was he supposed to stay here, in this office, with Dumbledore sitting there with a frown on his face? Severus already lost count as to how long he had been pacing for. It seemed that pacing was the only thing, at that moment, he could do.

Perhaps when he was back in his own reality—with Black and Harry—then, he'd stop this pacing.

“Severus, would you like to sit down? Have a lemon drop?” Dumbledore asked softly. “Until you can remember how you ended up here, I have no certain, exact answer—”

“I know,” Severus answered, annoyed. “I have been trying to remember, I just cannot recall anything. It—”

Severus paused, looking down at the bottom of his shoe. How long had this… piece of paper, been there for? He could have stepped on it anywhere in this school, but…. Severus peeled the paper off, frowning. They were words in a different language… And then it struck him, and a small gasp escaped his lips.

Something actually struck him, in his gut. He could feel it.

“I remember,” Severus managed out, before stumbling backwards. Dumbledore stood up from his chair, looking alarmed.

What was happening? Severus thought as he fell to the floor, trying to catch his breath. This feeling… he had felt it in his study, when he had read the paper out loud. He hadn't read the paper out loud again, though. So it couldn't have been that…

It wasn't the same paper, though, Severus realized. They were different words.

He was experiencing the same familiar, gut-wrenching feeling—like somebody had just grabbed his insides and were twisting them each way, squeezing until he felt like he had trouble breathing—oh, how he hated this. Never, ever again would he read a paper out loud when it was in a different language.

--

Severus opened his eyes, feeling thankful that he was able to breath again. He felt sore, he had a headache and… some brandy would've been nice, then.

“Severus?” A small, hesitant voice questioned.

Severus blinked, sitting up. He was momentarily mesmorized by the throbbing in the side of his head, but pushed the headache out of his mind.

“Harry?” Severus said, trying to stand on shaky feet. Immediately he felt himself being supported by two people—Harry and Black?

“I think it really is him,” Harry's voice said excitedly from Severus's right.

“Let's hope,” came the reply, from Black. “Snape? Do you feel… horrible?”

“Execrable,” Severus muttered, feeling something soft underneath him, now. The couch, he realized. “What happened, Black?”

“Harry,” Sirius said, sitting down on the other side of the couch. “He found the paper in your study. I found the other one on the steps that lead downstairs. You are the right Snape, aren't you? What did you do?”

“I am—I merely found that paper and read it,” Severus explained, sounding annoyed. He really didn't feel like explaining anything at that moment. “I assume that's what Harry did, as well.”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “It was. You forgot, too, didn't you, Severus? After you go to the different reality, something must make you forget how you got there in the first place. Then… perhaps… when you see that paper, the incantation, it must trigger your memory.”

“Just give me a moment to recollect myself,” Severus said, closing his eyes again. “Something for my head would be nice…”

“Right,” Sirius agreed. “And a brandy, too?”

“Mmm,” Severus agreed. It was surprising how well Sirius could seem to read his mind. He suddenly remembered Snape, the other Snape. Severus realized after a moment that he was, probably, back in his own reality. Going back to a reality must work differently than when you're going to one….

Severus briefly opened his eyes again to find that Sirius had disappeared, and Harry was left sitting on the couch, too, looking thoughtful. Severus studied him, saying, “What is it, Harry? Something's on your mind.”

Harry was startled out of his thoughts. “I… just thought… you were in my reality, weren't you Severus? Dumbledore knows that I'm here, doesn't he?”

“Yes,” Severus replied slowly. “He does.”

Harry hesitated. “So… do you think he'd get the hint if I didn't go back?”

Severus stared blankly at Harry, sitting up a little bit straighter. Harry was looking at Severus, rather hopefully. Severus, clearly at a loss for words, tried to say something, only to have Sirius come back into the room at that moment.

“Here, this'll help,” Sirius said, handing Severus a pill. He went to give Severus his brandy, as well, but at Severus's look, scowled.

“You don't really expect me to drink that with that in the glass, do you, Black?” Severus, narrowing his eyes.

Sirius frowned, taking the little umbrella that he had put in the glass out. Severus accepted the drink this time; Sirius set the umbrella on the table in front of them and sat down in the armchair across from the couch.

“It's good to have you back, Snape,” Sirius said, grinning as he propped his feet up on the table.

Severus scowled. “Get your feet off of my table, Black.”

Sirius's grin faltered as he let his feet fall to floor. “Yep—like I said… good to have you back….”

--

Harry stood in-between Sirius and Severus in Dumbledore's office as they had both started to explain what happened. At times, he had often began to tune into what was being said, but he mostly thought about what he was going to do. He now knew how to return to his reality… the right one… but he honestly had to ask himself if he wanted to.

So, he began to list the pros and cons.

What would be the pros of leaving? All right, Harry had to admit that he started to draw a blank, so he decided to go onto the next one: What would be pros of staying?

Well, there were quite a few, he realized. One would be that he'd actually have a home, and a family. He'd live in a town where everybody seemed to love him. This reality was just the same as his, really, with bonuses.

What would be the cons of leaving? Well, he'd be leaving Sirius and Severus, and this town. He'd miss the closeness of the town, how everybody knew each other…

The cons of staying?

… Harry was at a loss.

“Of course,” Dumbledore was murmuring, in a tone of realization. “I have heard of this incantation—they are very scarce, and only appear when one desperately wants to get away.”

Severus scowled. “I did not 'desperately' want to get away from anything.”

“No, but Harry did,” Dumbledore said quietly, looking up at Harry. “When you found that piece of paper—what happened earlier?”

Harry hesitated, his eyes going out of focus as he thought back to that night, saying, “Earlier… I… ended up getting angry at Aunt Marge, and blew her up… like a balloon, and then I left the Dursleys.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Sometimes, these incantations can appear in any reality when one is desperate to get away—then, in some realities, they don't appear at all. When Harry read that incantation, it must have followed him, and then Severus ended up finding it…”

“And read it,” Sirius finished.

Dumbledore nodded. “You were lucky that, when the other Severus, read that incantation that the two of you didn't land in a completely different reality altogether. It's said that you can never be sure which reality you'd end up in.”

“We're going to have to get rid of that paper,” Sirius said. “We can do it… if, er, when… Harry goes back…”

“Of course,” Harry said quickly, nodding. “Yeah.”

--

Sirius sat on a stool in the kitchen beside Harry. Severus stood by the kitchen sink, going through the cabinets for cups. The day was almost over, and neither of them had very much to say. The household had been quiet; not once had Harry mentioned going back.

So, Sirius decided he'd bring the subject up. He coughed before saying casually, “So Harry—uhm, when do you plan on leaving? Or, maybe… perhaps… did you have a change of heart?”

Harry's eyes, which were resting on Sirius as he spoke, immediately swerved onto Severus as, out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Professor visibly straighten, though he continued to rummage through the cabinets as if he wasn't paying much attention to their conversation.

“Wha—what do you mean?” Harry stammered, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. Of course, he knew perfectly well what Sirius was talking about; he was merely stalling until he could figure out what he was going to say. Was he going to stay? It was perfectly tempting… after all, he had everything he had in his reality that he did here, except more. Hogwarts, his House, family.

Real family. That cared for him! A father and a godfather.

Besides, he had gone through the pros and cons. But, if he did decide to stay, what would the wizarding world say to Harry's sudden return? He assumed that everybody knew that he had died—at least, the other him. They could think of something to say, Harry realized. Although perhaps they could simply… tell the truth?

That he wasn't the Harry that this reality knew—that, in fact, he was from a different reality, and he had mistakenly stumbled upon this one? Stranger things have happened… haven't they?

It was something for Harry to ponder about.

“You know what I mean,” Sirius said. “Have you decided that, maybe, you want to stay? No pressure in answering,” he added quickly. “It's just… a question.”

“I—I don't know,” Harry admitted, the blush remaining on his cheeks. His voice became softer as he answered with, “Maybe…”

“What?”

The sudden exclamation had come from Severus, who pulled his head out from inside the cabinet and whirled around to face Harry.

“What did you just say?” Severus asked, staring intently at Harry. Harry's blush grew deeper.

“I said,” Harry said, his voice still remaining low and soft, “that—well—maybe.”

“Maybe,” Severus echoed in disbelief. “You're considering staying? You truly are?”

Harry shrugged his left shoulder. “Well, not really 'considering' anymore. Kind of… certain? Unless, you don't want me to stay, 'cause if you don't I can get Dumbledore and go right back, it's no problem—”

“You're joking,” Severus said, his voice still layered with disbelief, just as it had been before. He slowly stepped closer to the counter, where Harry sat. His eyes narrowed. “Was I hearing correctly, just then, when you suggested that I—we—didn't want you to stay? You'd honestly even utter it, let alone have the thought cross your mind?”

Sirius put a hand on the side of his mouth, as if telling Harry a secret that he didn't want Severus to hear—even though he said it in a loud whisper, “I think that's Snape's way of saying yes he'd want you to stay!”

Severus scowled at Sirius. “Of course it is,” he replied. “We just have a little complication with the situation that, before Hogwarts begins again, we need to fix.”

Harry frowned. “What complication is that?”

“The complication,” Severus explained, “is that you're dead.”

Ah, right, yes! That complication, the one that he had just been thinking about. Could they do what he thought of, just tell the truth about the realities? Harry wondered how much last year at Hogwarts in this reality had differed from his. Though, he had to remember that he was no longer going into his third year, but his second year. All he knew was that there were many similarities between his life at Hogwarts in the two realities—like he was still in Gryffindor, he was still friends with Ron and Hermione, and it seemed the same situation with the Philosophers Stone happened, although with different results.

But were there any more tiny, little differences? Besides the fact that Severus Snape was his father—which was more of a big difference than a little one. Really, though, would they matter if there were? If they did plan to tell everybody the truth, then Harry thought that it wouldn't matter. Not really.

Then something dawned on him. His second year—that was the Chamber of Secrets. Would the same thing happen this time? Or, would it be something completely different? If it was the same, then Harry had an advantage: he knew what was going to happen. If he could change something, one thing, then things might turn out differently…

But did he want to change them? What if he ended up changing it so that Lucius Malfoy, instead of giving Ginny Weasley the diary, gave it to somebody else instead? Then Harry wouldn't have a clue who it would be, which would possibly make things more difficult…

--

Later that night, Harry climbed into bed without taking a look in the mirror at his new appearance. He was actually getting used to this appearance now.

Sirius had just left after saying goodnight to Harry. He kept expressing, ever since Harry had announced it, how happy he was that Harry decided to stay with them. It seemed that Sirius would be around the house a lot more than he had been with Harry staying. Now, Severus was approaching Harry's bed, and Harry waited for another awkward goodnight, like the ones once used to get, before Severus had found that paper…

“You are sure with your decision, Harry?” Severus asked tentatively as he drew closer. “You're completely positive that you want to stay? Absolutely certain?”

“I'm sure,” Harry replied firmly. “Completely positive.” He paused as Severus sat down on the edge of the bed. “I never really knew that there were any other different realities. I just thought… I dunno. I guess I never even thought about it.”

“There's many other realities out there,” Severus said softly. “Ones with numerous possibilities of… everything.”

Harry nodded, and then suddenly grimaced. “Euchh—never mind.”

Severus raised an eyebrow at Harry, who blushed. “What was that for?”

Harry hesitated. “I just—well, when you said… about realities with numerous possibilities of everything… I thought of a reality where—.” Harry clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head.

Severus smirked, giving Harry a look. “Is it that horrible?”

Harry nodded, making another face.

“Then do tell me.”

Harry finally said, with great effort, “Where—” Though, the last part came out so mumbled and quiet that Severus hadn't heard one thing.

“I didn't quite catch that,” said Severus, causing Harry to turn red again.

“Where Filch was my father!” Harry finally blurted, the red turning a deeper shade. Severus only gave Harry an amused look as he stood up.

“Well, well. When I return to Hogwarts I must tell Argus Filch that my son wants him to be his father. Do you think he'll be pleased, Harry?”

Harry kept that shade of red as he noted Severus referring to him as his son—he felt pleased as he ran the word over again in his mind—but he let out a gasp.

“You wouldn't do that. I didn't say I wanted him to be my father, either! You've twisted this all around.”

Severus retreated back to the doorway, where his hand rested on the light switch.

“Ah, but things are more interesting this way, aren't they?” Severus turned off the light; Harry's room became dark except for the bit of moonlight that creeped in through the window. “Goodnight, Harry. May you have pleasant dreams of Argus Filch as your father.”

Harry scowled in the dark at Severus's last sarcastic comment, but didn't reply. It's funny, he thought as his eyelids closed, that at one point he'd be grimacing at the mere thought of Severus Snape as his father, yet here he was. Severus Snape was his father, and he was happy. Peaceful. Things felt right.

Severus slowly brought Harry's door forward, letting only a crack remain open. He had it, he thought, feeling pleased. He now had his second chance.