A few days later found Snape in the restricted library by himself. It was still early in the afternoon and he had chased the obnoxious teenagers off. With the exception of Hermione Granger, the boys had finally proved themselves useless as research assistants. And more annoying than the Weasley twins. Hermione had wanted to stay and continue her research, but Snape sent her with the boys since she was rather good at keeping them somewhat in line.

Slowly he closed the book he'd been reading and stared, unseeing, at his scattered notes. The morning's research had offered up no new clue on how to get back to their home. "Back to the Dark Lord," he grumbled. Resisting the urge to give in to frustration and to scatter his notes, he methodically gathered them up, placed them in a leather folder, and then put away the books the teenagers had left behind. He then went through the gate of the restricted section, closed it behind himself and left the library.

Snape wandered about Hogwarts castle for an hour, trapped by his thoughts. He hadn't paid any real attention to where he was going allowing his feet to fall into a long familiar routine. At one point he was slightly disoriented when he found himself down in the dungeons and facing the door to the large, dark classroom that would one day be his. Slipping into the shadows, he observed the class in silence.

At the front of the classroom was a very elderly man who was at least a century plus a few years. Upon his bald pate was a skullcap of red silk and his robes were of dark green velvet. His eyes were a deep, clear blue that belied his age. He paced the front of the class slowly, while leaning upon a tall, gnarled staff of white pine. The potions professor's voice was a rich tenor that instructed with the practice of decades of teaching.

"As in all potions, care must be taken to grind and dice your ingredients properly. The Wit-sharpening potion has only three ingredients, scarab beetle, ginger root and armadillo bile. The complexity, the beauty of this potion comes in the preparation of your ingredients, the adding of them, the simmering and the preciseness of your stirring." The man smiled beatifically; a smile that broadcast to all the students the love their professor had for his craft. "Now who can tell me the preparation for the armadillo bile in this potion?"

A very eager hand shot up into the air. Not unlike a certain know-it-all of Snape's acquaintance. He had to suppress his need to laugh when he discovered who the hand-waver was.

"Do enlighten us, Mr. Dumbledore." The professor seated himself momentarily as Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet and began to recite his answer.

"Armadillo bile must first be chilled using a focused chilling charm. It must be chilled to the point where crystals begin to form. Once it begins to crystallize it needs to be put into a warmed iron cauldron."

"Very good, Mr. Dumbledore. Can you tell me why an iron cauldron is required as opposed to a copper one?" Dumbledore's mouth opened and there were a few snickers from some of the other students around him. "Tis a good thing we're covering this before we start our potions, Mr. Dumbledore or you would have cracked another of my cauldrons." Dumbledore slumped down in his seat as the lecture continued.

Snape backed further into the shadows as he listened to the rest of the lecture and observed as the wizard taught his class. The man's voice was steady and deliberate. Despite his age, he kept a sharp eye upon each of his students and what they were doing. He moved smoothly and silently among their desks and was quick to praise, and equally quick to correct. He was rather less generous with House points and made Snape's gifts of points to any house comparable to Christmas. Professor Grailing slapped students, equally, with point losses and drummed caution, attention to detail, and the appreciation of potions into their heads.

This was Darlyle Grailing, one of the most famous Masters of Potions, and one that Severus Snape had worked all his life to emulate. In his private library, Snape was in possession of all of Grailing's potions books. The man had been one of Hogwarts most brilliant teachers. Had there not been the yoke of Voldemort around his neck, Severus Snape wondered if he might have been a different sort of teacher.

The class ended and Snape shrank further into the shadows as the students swept by him in a flood of robes and chatter. Professor Grailing moved around his classroom picking up leftover potion ingredients and tidying up each desk by hand instead of with magic.

"Come in, young man, and give me a hand if you would? My final class isn't for fifteen minutes." Snape froze. He couldn't risk revealing himself to anyone, yet he really wanted to meet this wizard. Making his decision, Snape stepped out of the shadows and into the dungeon classroom. He gave a short bow to the older man, who smiled and handed him a basket of small potion ingredients bottles. "You are familiar with these ingredients, sir?"

Snape took the basket. "I am, Professor."

"Rack them for me, if you would?" Snape walked over to the large rack of potions, noting that it was the same one still in use in his classroom. "As terrifying as I believe myself to be, I have never been able to get these children to put their ingredients away."

"Very few children seem to have the discipline required," Snape mused.

"Indeed," the old man chuckled. "Indeed you are correct. I am told by our headmistress, that you are quite an accomplished Potions Master. I looked you up in the registry..." Snape finished replacing the last ingredient and turned to face the man who was dusting rapidly at one of the desks. "You don't exist." Snape was about to offer an explanation, but the old man held up a hand. "You owe me no explanations, sir." He smiled at Snape. "After bringing such a discrepancy to our headmistress, she took me into her confidence in regards to your situation. An unwilling traveller in Time."

Snape sighed audibly. "Unwilling is far too true, Professor Grailing."

"Master Snape, I would like us to talk more. I believe you might be able to use my expertise, even if it is only to run theories past someone that doesn't have the mind of a child." His eyes twinkled momentarily.

"You must know of my research assistants," chuckled Snape.

"Are they capable?"

"They... are capable, but boredom is a constant curse. At least for the three boys. On the other hand, Miss Granger's first love are books, research and study. She makes for a very capable assistant." The noise of the final class approaching interrupted.

"We shall talk again, and soon, Master Snape." Professor Grailing bowed stiffly and Snape then turned and left the dungeon classroom before he could get trampled.

Severus Snape was pleased that his path had taken him to Grailing. Perhaps his assistance might help in solving their problem. It would at least give him a break from his four students. Putting his mind once more to the question of their arrival, he resumed his walk.

Soon he was down in the courtyard. Most of the students were at their final classes for the day, so the courtyard was reasonably quiet and pleasant. Briefly Snape allowed his thoughts to be distracted by where Ron, Hermione, Draco and Harry might be and what they were up to. He hoped that they were keeping to themselves... and out of trouble.