A week after Christmas, Hermione was once again drowning in her notes. It was an early Saturday afternoon and she had already been hard at work on her research since ten that morning. Her notes were spread across the entire length of the long library table and books surrounded her chair on the floor and on the table as well. Dozens of books were open to specific pages and Hermione kept going back and forth between them until she needed to take another book down from the shelves.

"Hermione! What in the world is going on in here?" Lyrica had just Apparated into the entryway. Hearing the muttering, she headed to the library to see what was going on.

"Lyrica!" Hermione dropped the large tome she was carrying and it hit the nearby stack of books, sending the whole stack to the floor. "Research." She smiled sheepishly. "It's a bit of ordered chaos."

"So I can see." Lyrica removed her black velvet outer robe and draped it over a free chair. "I hope this isn't a homework assignment." She picked up one of the closed books.

"Oh no. I'm looking for everything I can that has to do with Portgates. I'd dearly love to enchant a small one, but none of us knows the spell and Uncle Severus says it's far too dangerous to try in the house."

"Nonsense! During my brief Enchantment apprenticeship, my Mentor had me enchanting small scale Portgates in a space that qualified as nothing greater than a glorified closet."

"You know the spell?" asked Hermione with a smile.

"Indeed I do! Let's go to the Observatory and close the door on this... hmm, research. I'll teach you the spell and we can create a small Portgate."

"Wonderful!" Hermione began to head out of the library when Lyrica stopped.

"You go ahead, dear. I'm going to make sure the elves don't clean up your research." Hermione was practically skipping through the door; she was so excited about learning the complicated spell. Once the girl was out of sight, Lyrica went over to the stack of books that had fallen over. Beneath them she had spotted a familiar book. It was a slim volume bound in black, with worn leather and ragged edges. She snatched up the book and ran her wand over it. The age restriction ward was still intact. Smiling grimly, she shrank the book and tucked it into her pocket. Later, she would hide it away for safekeeping in her apartments.

Lyrica then looked over the mess of the library. "Dorcas," she called for the elf in a whispered voice and it popped in immediately.

"What is Miss Lyrica needing?" asked the elf politely.

"Clean the library..." she paused and closed her eyes as she reminded herself that what she was about to order the elf to do would, hopefully, save her adopted family. "And Dorcas, burn all of those notes."

Closing the double doors of the library and leaving the elf to her work, Lyrica turned away, and made her way to the stairs that led to the Observatory.

The Observatory on top of Ashmere house was accessed by a side staircase that was to the left of the library and climbed, steeply, the three floors to the magnificent rooftop room.

Almost occupying the majority of roof space, the Observatory had been built by one of Lyrica's ancestors, Bastien Arcahnum, who had an obsessive fascination with the stars. The room held a variety of star watching tools, including three different telescopes. Bastien built the third telescope which occupied the entire north side of the observatory. It was a glittering array of brass and copper that sat upon a pedestal and rose to the glassed ceiling. An elaborate chair of green velvet and pine had been crafted as part of the telescope and placed before the eyepiece.

Books on astronomy were to be found neatly placed on a wall length shelf. Near this was a clean chalkboard and a desk upon which were several star charts. The rest of the room was dotted by healthy houseplants in large pots that ate up the sun that shone through the ceiling and glassed in walls. Furniture had been placed in the centre of the room. Above this small oasis, an inset of stain glass in cool blues and greens had been worked into the glass ceiling to provide a shaded and cool area for one to sit, contemplate or work.

The door was open, so Hermione stepped into the brass and glass room and allowed her attention to be drawn by the various telescopes, equipment, and finally, the books. For once, she didn't take down any of the books and took a moment to watch the snow that was coming down.

Hermione missed her parents. She hadn't told Ron, Harry, or Draco, yet but this summer that she'd had with her parents was her last one, for perhaps, a very long time. The Order of the Phoenix, at Dumbledore's direction, had put her parents into hiding the day school started. She knew it was to protect them, but it had bothered her that neither was she to know where they lived, nor was she allowed to communicate with them. It would be too dangerous for them, and for her.

She had enjoyed Christmas with her new 'family' and she was very thankful for her growing relationship with Draco. Away from the harsh expectations of his father and the other Death Eater children, he was... himself. Hermione didn't want to say he was different since she'd always felt that Draco had to hide away his true self, just as Snape had to in order to retain his persona as a spy. It was for their survival and it was the world they lived in. And it's depressing, her mind sighed. Hermione loved her parents, her family, but a part of her heart ached for what she had here in 1898. She had no intention of giving up her research, but it was so very tempting to do so. To dream of a life with Draco where they could both go to school and not have to worry what others might think or do.

Lyrica arrived just then, rescuing Hermione from her thoughts. The excitement of learning something new took precedence and Hermione was more than content to listen as Lyrica explained the intricate nature of charming a Portgate. The Headmistress led her over to a velveteen lounger of green and gold that blended well with the flora. They both sat down and then Lyrica recited the incantation and showed her the complicated gestures for the spell. After she was finished, she began walking Hermione through the enchantment for the Portgate.

Lyrica was holding Hermione's hand and directing her in the gestures of a complicated enchantment. "Loosen your hold just a little on your wand, Hermione. There you go." Hermione's hand went up, then down, spun the wand tip in a slow circle and then repeated the motion. "Each gesture must move fluidly into the next." Both were quiet as three more sets of gestures were done and then Lyrica let go of Hermione's hand. "Very good. Now try it yourself. Just remember, you cannot pause between the sets."

Lyrica watched closely as Hermione began the gestures again. Beside her, Lyrica's hand moved in rhythm. Hermione paused, not sure which gesture came next, and Lyrica stopped her and instructed her to begin again. Pushing a stray curl of brown hair out of her eye, Hermione took a deep breath to steady her nerves and then she began again. Within ten minutes she had completed all the sets without a single pause.

"Beautiful, Hermione," praised Lyrica. "You have the technique of an advanced enchantress. Very good for a fourth year student."

Hermione smiled and blushed. "Could we create a Portgate now?"

Lyrica nodded and stood up. "I think so." Going over to a small table that was almost hidden by a large fern, she took a small metal tin that sat upon the table and brought it over. "Glass or metal are always used for a Portgate, although not as small as this." Lyrica placed the tin in front of Hermione and then seated herself beside the studious girl again.

"Do you have something to enchant?" asked Hermione.

"I want you to successfully enchant the tin box first before we try two objects at once. The problem with Portgates is their inherent instability. Even with one as small as what we're dealing with, it could be damaging."

Hermione frowned and picked up the tin box. "We'd need something large, then. At least as tall as Uncle Severus. We still run the risk of... " she shuddered. The other night she had read a very graphic report on accidents that had occurred with Portgates. Hermione sighed in sudden resignation as she dropped the tin and laid her wand in her lap. "This is really useless. Even if I learn how to enchant a Portgate, we still have the problem of linking it to our time and there really is no way to do that."

Lyrica put an arm over Hermione's shoulder and gave her a gentle hug. "Even if it is nothing more than a dead end, then you are learning something, my dear. Knowledge of this could lead to the answer. So, unless you have something else on your schedule for today?"

"I did promise to make my mother's apple pie for Draco this afternoon," began Hermione with a small smile.

Lyrica gave the girl a mocking frown. "Maybe that boy ought to help you, Hermione. It would do him a good turn to learn to cook."

Hermione laughed and Lyrica smiled at her. "That's rather a good idea!" She picked up her wand and the tin box. "But this first."

Hermione took her wand from Lyrica and pulled the book closer. She began the gesture and under her breath she incanted the Portgate spell. The gestures and the spell came together with her intent and she began to feel the subtle rhythm that indicated the spell was working. She kept the gestures smooth and did not pause once. When she was finished, a faint shimmer enveloped the tin box. Lyrica began to count. The shimmering faded when she reached a count of thirty-seven.

"Hermione Granger, you are a most talented witch!" Lyrica gave the blushing girl a quick embrace. "Wave your wand over the tin and you'll see the portal stream."

Hermione did so and was able to see a thin, opalescent thread of wavering magic. "A tiny wormhole," she whispered in awe. "Wouldn't the Muggle scientists have a field day with this?" She giggled.

Lyrica, unfamiliar with most things Muggle, merely smiled. "Although we won't do it, it's simply a matter of enchanting a second Portgate and the portal streams will automatically be attracted to each other and connect."

"That's really quite brilliant," remarked Hermione. "It's a pity they gave up on it."

"I've no doubt that in a few more years, the creation of portgates will be banned. They really are terribly dangerous, Hermione."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "There have been some rather... er... gruesome accidents." Suddenly she yawned.

"Ah yes, I was waiting for that." Lyrica smiled.

"That spell takes a bit of energy, doesn't it?" asked Hermione as she yawned again.

"It does, at that. Some lunch would help. Hungry?" Hermione nodded and they both rose from the lounger and left the Observatory.

The loss of Hermione's notes had devastated the studious girl. Midway through lunch a thought she wanted to add to her research notes sent her to the library. To her horror she found that it had been spotlessly cleaned. She couldn't find her notes anywhere and when she called Dorcas, it was then that she was informed that they had been burned.

Hermione had wept and seemed inconsolable over all her hard work that Lyrica offered to punish her elf. This made Hermione weep even more and it was Draco that had to explain, while Hermione wept into his shoulder, that she didn't blame the elf and would feel even more guilty if the little creature was punished for what came naturally to it. Draco had finally urged Hermione outside for a walk and Lyrica had headed upstairs. Lyrica had been met by Snape on the second floor landing where she briefly told him what had happened before continuing on her way to her apartment.

Once her door was closed, locked, and securely warded she paced. Lyrica hated what she'd done to the young child. It had been foolish of her to have had the notes burned. After working with Hermione in the Observatory she could see that the child would eventually come to the same conclusions about Portgates that Nicolas Flamel had written of in his book; the one she had removed from her library and hidden in her apartment.

"Unwisssse," hissed the snake, Kalima. The black and silver serpent had been coiled upon the hearth and now it slid its way toward the basilisk statue.

"Quiet," Lyrica faintly hissed back at the snake.

"You play a dangeroussss game." The snake's head rose to her knee and swayed back and forth in front of her.

"I do what I mussst to keep them ssssafe!" Lyrica moved away from Kalima and threw herself onto her bed. Minutes later she was joined by the serpent as it slithered gracefully over her arm until its face was next to hers. "I will not lossssse them, Kalima."

"By betraying them?" the serpent's tongue darted out against Lyrica's cheek.

"If it will keep them ssssafe." Lyrica buried her head in her pillow and the serpent coiled up beside her.

"They burned my notes!"

Draco leaned back in a chair in Hermione's room, watching as she paced back and forth in front of her fire. "Would you please stop saying that, Hermione?" She shot him a warning glare. Draco didn't back down. "I know you're upset... and angry, but what's done is done. You've been wailing since dinner and it's time to stop acting like a baby and pull yourself together."

Hermione plopped down on the edge of her bed and kicked off her shoes. A second later she kicked them away and pouted down at the floor. "Stupid elves," she muttered.

Draco's eyebrow rose slightly and the corner of his mouth quirked slightly. "Did the champion of elfish rights just call the Ashmere elves stupid?"

She sneered. "You wanted to boil them in oil, Draco."

"No doubt they're both banging their heads against the wall someplace." At Hermione's look of horror, Draco rose from the chair and sat down beside her. "You told Lyrica not to let them punish themselves, so stop worrying. All right?" He brushed his lips to her cheek and tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear.

"But, my notes..." she whispered.

Draco put his arm over Hermione's shoulder. "Yeah, I heard. They're all ashes. Your memory is phenomenal, love. You'll remember what is important from those notes. So, just put this rotten accident behind you and go forward."

Hermione smiled up at Draco. He touched her cheek with his fingertips and leaned over to kiss her...

"Ahem!"

They both jumped apart and Draco glowered at the black clad figure that shadowed the doorway. "Do you have to do that, Snape?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Snape drawled. "Say goodnight and go to bed, Draco. It's late."

Draco huffed, rose to his feet and then swiftly leaned down and brushed his lips to Hermione's. While she blushed down to her toes, the young boy stalked out the door past Snape. "G'night, Hermione!"

"Goodnight," she said softly.

"Goodnight, Hermione." Snape drew the door closed and pretended he did not hear the girlish giggle from the bedroom.

Hermione found herself running down a corridor. She was a small, buck-toothed, bushy-haired first year. Her robes whipped behind as her head whipped periodically to the left and then to the right.

"Harry James Potter!" she shouted. Frustrated and running out of breath, she stopped. Her hand went to her side, just as the stitch from the exertion began to pinch. "Harry!"

"Wandered off again, hasn't he, Miss Granger?" Professor Dumbledore, in scarlet and gold robes, came ambling toward her from the other end of the corridor. Upon reaching her, he held out a small tin of sweets.

"No thank you, sir," she said automatically, barely giving the tin a glance. "Have you seen Harry?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled knowingly. "Indeed I have." Hermione then noticed that Dumbledore was still holding the tin of sweets towards her. "Here." Taking her hand, he placed the tin on the palm of her hand.

Hermione frowned at the tin. She'd seen it before... she was certain. "Professor, Harry. You said you saw him?"

"He's become mesmerised by the most curious, and dangerous of magical objects."

"And you left him there?" asked Hermione incredulously. "Where is he?"

Dumbledore seemed not to hear her. "Did you know, Miss Granger, that Harry killed Quirrel? He burned the man to ash with his bare hands. Of course, he doesn't remember that. I think he believes I saved him when in truth I had nothing at all to do with it. Severus found him. You see, I've often caught Severus with that same artefact. Amazing, isn't it? No matter where I hide it in the castle, it always seems to get found."

"What is the artefact, Professor?" her curiosity was roused as she watched the Headmaster studying the portraits along the wall.

"Hmm?" It seemed he hadn't quite heard her. Hermione was about to repeat her question when he spoke again. "Reflections, Miss Granger. They show the truth, don't they? Not that the truth is what we always desire, though." His twinkling, mad, blue eyes alighted upon hers, and she felt, oddly trapped. "Have you ever heard the phrase 'two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time'?"

Hermione nodded. It was a phrase she'd encountered in studying Portal Streams, Portkeys, Floo Networks, and Portgates.

"Ahhh, but you haven't heard the phrase, 'one object can occupy the very same space in a different time'." The Headmaster laughed as though it were a joke and Hermione had the unreasonable desire to trip Dumbledore in the hopes a knock on his noggin might bring some sense back into his head. To her great indignation, the old man passed her by and absently patted her on the head. Just as she was about to turn away and continue her search for Harry, Dumbledore called back to her. "The artefact, Miss Granger, is the lock. Oh, and do forgive my 'egocentrism' as Severus accused me of. You are now the key."

"Professor!" Dumbledore had vanished around the corner. Hermione almost stamped her foot in frustration. Instead she reached for her wand. Her heart dropped a mile as she realised it was gone.

"You're a m-m-meddler, Miss G-g-g-granger, and it's your b-b-bloody fault I'm d-d-d-dead!"

Hermione turned to see the horrifyingly burned and disintegrating figure of Professor Quirrel advancing upon her. With each step, pieces of him fell to the ground as ash. She couldn't move and before she could do anything other then raise her arms defensively, the remains of Quirrel's crumbling hands were around her throat.

Hermione screamed.

Draco was dead asleep. There were no dreams to plague him and his body was supremely relaxed. Adrenalin shot through Draco's body the second she began screaming. He didn't hesitate as he fairly flew from his bed, through his door and into her room. Hermione's hands were stretched out in front of her defensively and Draco caught her by the wrists, firmly. He called to her several times before she rose like a shot from the nightmare. Silently, she threw her arms around his neck, nearly strangling him in her need to feel that he was real.

"It's all right, love, shhh," he whispered as he did his best to loosen her grip without pushing her away. He then began patting her back soothingly until her breath stopped coming in great, gulping gasps.

"'Mione?" Ron was at the door, rubbing at his eyes. "You all right."

"Uncle..." she gasped.

"Harry's gone to get him, 'Mione." Ron ambled in and sat on the end of the bed. "Sounded like you were being killed."

Hermione just shook her head and buried her face back in Draco's shoulder.

"Hermione?" Snape swept in with Harry on his heels. As soon as Snape sat on the edge of the bed, Hermione threw her arms around him. Snape just pulled the frightened girl onto his lap and directed a questioning glance at the boys.

"She hasn't said anything, Uncle Severus," informed Draco quietly. He gently patted Hermione's arm.

"I've never heard her scream like that," observed Harry with a slight shudder. "Not even when the troll was attacking her in first year."

To Harry's shock Hermione chose that moment to turn slightly in Snape's embrace and blurt, "You killed Professor Quirrel, Harry!"

Harry's look of surprise was mirrored by Snape, Ron, and Draco. "Wh-what are you talking about? Dumbledore..."

Hermione shook her head emphatically. "Sna... Uncle Severus took you to the infirmary, Harry. Dumbledore wasn't there. He said you killed Quirrel by burning him to death and... and... Quirrel blamed me!" She burst into great, blubbering sobs and buried her face in Snape's shoulder.

It was several more, long minutes before Hermione was calm enough to talk rationally. By then, Snape had arranged the chairs in the bedroom for them. Hermione had climbed back under her covers and Snape had permitted Draco to sit beside her, holding her as she leaned against him. Dorcas, the elf brought hot chocolate and some cookies. They sipped the chocolate and munched on the cookies while Hermione related her dream. Her sense of fear washed over all of them, including Snape, when she opened her fist to show a dusty stain of ash upon her palm. None of them realised she'd been keeping her fist tightly closed all that time.

"Uncle Severus, please..." Hermione held out her ash-dusted hand toward Snape. "get rid of it." As he saw the revulsion on her face, he quickly conjured a warm, damp cloth. A few gentle swipes and the dust was gone. He banished the cloth. "Thank you," she whispered as she reclaimed her hand by drawing it close to herself.

"I don't understand," began Harry. "Why did Dumbledore say I killed Quirrel? I don't remember that. All I can remember is Voldemort's voice ordering Quirrel to kill me, and then I woke up in the infirmary."

Snape sighed as his gaze locked onto Harry's. "Your memory of Quirrel's death was removed by the Headmaster, Harry. After viewing it in his Pensieve, he thought it best that you not have it in your mind. He felt you were too young."

Harry's brow knitted angrily together. "Too young? My parents died trying to protect me, Voldemort was on Quirrel's head and was trying to kill me, and I lived ten years with the Dursleys! Too young!"

"Mr. Potter! Calm yourself!" ordered Snape. In a quieter tone he continued, "I did not say it was a wise decision and I do recall disagreeing with Professor Dumbledore about completely removing the memory after he showed it to me."

Harry was calmer, but not totally mollified. "So he lied to me. Again. I suppose that stupid stone isn't destroyed either, is it?"

Now it was Snape's turn to be puzzled. "He told you the stone was destroyed?" Harry nodded. Snape shook his head. "That's impossible. Only Nicolas Flamel has the power to destroy the stone. The stone is back in a vault in Gringott's lowest levels. I took it there myself while you were still recovering."

Harry didn't have a chance to reply to Snape's revelation as Draco spoke up. "Look, I don't care who killed that snivelling Quirrel," shuddered Draco. "He was a freak even before he played host to that parasite. What I want to know is what did Hermione's dream mean? What was Dumbledore trying to tell her?"

Snape began to shake his head, but it was Harry who replied with an answer. "The Mirror of Erised." Then he shrugged. "But, what that has to do with us getting home..."

"Portgates!" gasped Hermione. Her eyes were shining brightly as she understood part of the puzzle. "Portgates have to be an enchanted glass or metal object. Lyrica told me that mirrors were often used as they tended to provide more stability than just glass or metal did."

Ron smiled in sudden dawning, "one object can occupy the very same space in a different time. Isn't that what Dumbledore said, Hermione?" She nodded. "Then, if the mirror exists here and also in the present..."

"Oh, Ron! That's it. I'm sure of it!" Hermione scrambled out from under her blankets and onto the floor and began to pace excitedly. "What if it's possible to enchant the Mirror of Erised in 1898 and have Dumbledore enchant it in 1994? Maybe the portal streams would seek out each other and we'd have a Portgate between the two time periods. I need to talk to Lyrica."

"That's suicide!" barked Draco. Hermione rounded on him and glowered. "Look, love, I know how much you've been working on this thing, but you showed me those accident reports. That one where the fellow was split down the middle? Ech! I'm sorry, but I don't want to risk it."

"I gotta agree with the Dragon, Hermione. That's well..."

Ron finished Harry's thought, "Bloody damn dangerous." He clapped his hand over his mouth, but for once Snape didn't thump him for his language.

Hermione looked to Snape for support, but she could see the heavy doubt in his expression. "I'm afraid they're correct, Hermione. We can't even test it."

"But Dumbledore...!" she almost whined.

Snape's expression hardened. "Professor Dumbledore has violated all our minds and lied to us. I know it's important for us to continue trying to find a way home," he held up a hand as Draco was about to interrupt, "and we shall continue looking, but we cannot just leap at the first solution presented to us. Especially not one that's so dangerous." He placed his hand upon the Gryffindor bookworm's shoulder. "Talk to Lyrica tomorrow, Hermione. She is, after all, the expert as far as Portkeys and Portgates go."

"What about Flamel's book?" she asked.

"I haven't found it here, nor was I able to find it at the Hogwarts library. I'll go to Knockturn Alley in the afternoon and see if the bookshop that deals in hard to find books can get it for me." Snape rose to his feet. "I think that this is enough excitement for the evening. Everyone, back to bed." He ushered the boys out, putting his hand at Draco's back and pushing him through the door. He knew the boy wanted to stay with Hermione, but he wasn't going to permit it.

"Uncle Severus?" asked Hermione as she touched his sleeve. "Could I have some Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

He nodded, and gently nudged her toward her bed. "I'll be back with it in a few minutes." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco hovering just outside the doorway. Snape smirked. "I suppose Draco might like to sit with you for a few minutes?"

Draco sidled back in, and like a snake, slithered quickly to Hermione's side and tucked her covers around her. Snape gave the boy's smiling face a warning glare, and then he turned and went out of the room, pointedly leaving the door open.

Draco was pleasantly surprised as Hermione threw her arms around his neck and soundly kissed him. When she pulled away, he blinked happily. "Far be it of me to question any kiss like that, but what was that for?"

Hermione laughed softly. "I just wanted to thank you for helping me out of my nightmare, Draco."

He brushed aside a knotted curl, and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "I told you I'd protect you, love, and I mean it." Scooting closer to her, he drew Hermione to himself and kissed her again. They broke apart with a sigh of contentment and Hermione laid her head against his chest. They remained that way, in silent comfort of each other's arms, until Snape returned with the phial of potion. Once Hermione drank down the small dose, he chased Draco out and saw the boy to his room.

Once all four doors to the bedrooms were closed, Snape stood quietly in the west wing corridor. Deep within him, an ember of resentment was burning for Dumbledore. He had read the book Lyrica had given him by Aristotle about bonds and the use of them to travel a wizard's dreams. He had learned that children were more susceptible to such violation than adults were as the mind of a child was more often than not open and vulnerable. A child's mind was also more open to suggestion and easier to frighten than an adult's was. Albus Dumbledore, in trying to deliver his message to the Potions Master, was frightening the teenagers, his children.

"His countenance bespeaks the Grim," intoned a soft baritone. The King drifted through the wall of the corridor, solidified himself, and stood beside Snape. "You are as troubled as any parent, Sir Raven," observed King Henry.

"Troubled, yes," mused Snape towards The King. "Yet not helpless."

"You would protect them. Even from those who work to gain the Light?"

Snape turned to face the royal ghost. The expression on his features was stony and resolute. "Albus Dumbledore is a wizard of very great power..." Dropping his crossed arms to his sides he began to walk down the corridor. "But I am a wizard of great power as well, Your Majesty. My children will suffer no more... nightmares."

Knockturn Alley - the next day

It wasn't quite a bookshop, although books were its primary business. The shop had no name, and existed in 1994 as well as 1898. Snape had a suspicion that this was one of those rare, dark shops that had existed before the advent of time. It was a place that always had given Snape a chill down his spine as he went through its narrow, dirty glass door and crossed the threshold. The feeling that he was being transported elsewhere was the same now as it was the few times he'd visited the shop in his own time.

Dust and cobwebs were the main decor of the shop. Books were everywhere, but they were stacked upon the floor, lining the walls, or on tables and chairs. The shelves were reserved for other artefacts that were best left ignored. Walking across the creaking, wood floor, a glint of gold caught Snape's eye, and despite his own mind's counsel to ignore it, he looked. On a nearby shelf at eye level was a tarnished Time Turner.

Bony fingers settled on his wrist just as he was preparing to examine the object. "I wouldn't, young Severus Snape."

Snape tried to yank his wrist away, but the bony fingers curled tightly around his slim wrist, threatening to cut off circulation. He looked down into the hunched and bent figure of the shop's owner; a man he had known in his own time. The man smiled a crooked, snaggletoothed grin at him and proceeded to draw him through the shop and towards the stained counter used for conducting business.

"It can't be you, Ogden Trap," muttered Snape and instantly hated the undertone of fear in his voice.

A hideous, wet, raspy sort of laughter escaped from the man's mouth and he let go of Snape's wrist. "Very amusing, my boy, quite! Who would ever want to Polyjuice as me? Of course it is Ogden Trap. You don't fear me as you used to." He pointed one of those long, skeletally thin fingers with long, ragged, dirty nails at the Potions Master, "Of all the wizards I've known, child, you are one of the few whose instinct detects the nature of my shop. I find it odd that you ignore the instinct you so highly prize, to continue coming in order to do business with me." Trap leaned over the counter craning his scrawny neck toward Snape. "Heed me now... don't ever come back to my shop." With that warning he jabbed his pointed finger, hard, into Snape's chest.

Pain bloomed within Snape's heart and he drew in a sharp breath as his hand clutched instinctively for his heart. The pain was gone the moment Trap waved his hand over the stricken man's chest.

"What you seek isn't here, child." Ogden Trap turned his back on Snape. With a backhanded wave, the shopkeeper dismissed him. "The Light in your soul burns me, so take it, and leave."

Snape spun away; quite agreeable to leaving. As he passed by the shelf with the Time Turner, he couldn't help it; he paused and remained in place, staring at it.

A clap of hands hitting the counter once with great force, yanked him out of his trance. "Leave it!" thundered Trap's voice, "Or die now!"

The frightened child within Snape took over and he broke into a run, nearly bursting through the door of the shop. Behind his fear was that hideous, terrifying laughter. He slammed the door shut behind himself and strode with a half-walk, half-run toward Diagon Alley. As he left the shadows of the darkened Knockturn Alley, the sun seemed to break through the clouds at that moment to shine down upon him and bathe him soothingly in its winter warmth. Large flakes of snow, which he could not recall seeing on Knockturn Alley, fell heavily upon and around him. For several minutes he walked up the street and through the snow. The walked calmed his shaken nerves and helped to dispel his fear.

Knockturn Alley had never truly frightened him before. He had a healthy respect for the seedy place and never did he walk its streets without every muscle tensed and his wand close to his hand. That shop, though, was a different matter.

The first time he'd gone into Ogden Trap's shop had been before his third year at Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy's father had taken the two boys to Diagon Alley for their school supplies and had made one of his own excursions into Knockturn Alley. Lucius had dragged Severus, nearly by force, into the dingy shop where the two boys had been immediately mesmerised by the variety of objects and books. Young Severus had felt the magic as they'd crossed the threshold and it had chilled him to the bone. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the shop as quickly as possible.

"What if your father comes looking for us, Lucius?" asked Severus in a small whisper.

Lucius had picked up a book on spells entitled, Make Your Witch Obey. His eyes were wide with undisguised glee over the nature of whatever awful spells were contained within the yellowed pages. "He's going to be at least an hour, Sev. That gives us plenty of time to get back to Fortescue's before father returns, so quit whining like a first year." Putting down the book, the blonde teenager was distracted by a human hand painted with silver paint.

Severus didn't feel comfortable looking at anything in the shop. He'd always been sensitive to magic that emanated from people and objects. There was so much dark magic in the shop that it was practically making him ill. He was about to tell Lucius he was going to just leave when a clawed hand pressed down upon his thin shoulder. He couldn't help letting out the squeak of fright at the touch. Lucius turned and only laughed.

"Hello, Mr. Trap," Lucius obviously knew the owner of the hand.

To Severus' horror, the claw was gripping his shoulder tighter. "Who is your friend, young Lucius?" The voice, so close to his ear, sounded obscene, wet, and Severus could hear the man's wheezing breaths.

"This is Severus Snape. He's going to be a great Defence Against the Dark Arts Master someday," boasted Lucius.

The claw twisted him, and Severus got his first glimpse of the shopkeeper. The man's fetid breath smelled like some of Slughorn's ingredients in Potions class and he felt his stomach roil. The man's leering sneer showed teeth of such grotesque neglect it seemed a parody. His teeth were stained, broken, some of them even rotting. "Defence Against the Darks Arts is your interest, young Severus Snape?" Severus could only nod and wish the vile looking man would let go of him. "Quite a noble profession, but I can see in those coals you call eyes that there is something that suits you better."

Severus had never liked being told what to do or what he liked and this gave him enough nerve to rebuke the man, "There is nothing better than Defence..." The shopkeeper's other claw-like hand gripped his other shoulder and tears sprang to Severus' eyes at the pain. He looked to Lucius for help, but something else had distracted the boy and he was a few feet away absorbed by another object. He didn't care what old Trap was saying or doing to Severus.

"Mark my words, child," intoned the old hunchback, "Know the enemy, but do not become him."

Severus was released so suddenly that he fell backwards onto his backside. What the hell did the bloody monstrosity mean?

Faster than it looked like he could move, he made his way over Severus and to Lucius. Snatching the object from the young boy, he pushed him towards Severus. "Out! Both of you! Neither of you have business in this shop!"

Lucius squared his shoulders and stalked out of the store. Severus scrambled to his feet, only too happy to oblige, when to his fright he was grabbed around the back of the neck by that claw, again. A cold breath accompanied by the smell of graveyard dirt assaulted him as Ogden Trap leaned in close and spoke, "I'll remember you, my stubborn child. Ogden Trap will be here, always, and believe me, one day I shall see you leave through my door and never return. Luck will be your fortune on that day, young Severus Snape." With a sharp shove, Severus fell against the door. He scrabbled with shaking hands at the doorknob, yanked the door open and ran out into the street. He didn't care where Lucius was. He just kept running until he was back on Diagon Alley and on his way to Fortescue's.

Snape's footsteps took him to the ice cream shop. He rather wished it was Fortescue's, but as long as they served chocolate ice cream, it would suffice. He stepped through the door appreciating the decor of wood, polished brass, and stained glass. It reminded him of the interior of the Nautilus, the sub that belonged to Captain Nemo of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. That had been one of his favourite books as a child. He ordered his ice cream and sat in one of the booths as he lost himself in the comfort of the memory of the old childhood story while his mind neatly occluded the old memory, tucking it far, far away.

Dinner was lively that evening as the boys and Hermione told Snape about their first lesson in Ley Line Magic. Snape listened carefully knowing that he would need to catch up with the children. He wanted to learn Lyrica's form of magic as well.

Snape had only quieted them down as all four at once tried to explain the history of Ley Line Magic. Lyrica had taken over and had then explained that Ley Lines were a spider webbed network of magical lines of power that criss-crossed the entire Earth. These Ley Lines had been accessed by witches for millenia to enhance their powers. Ley Lines were the fundamental basis of Earth elemental magic and thus it was magic taught mother to daughter. Males were rarely taught such magic and over time a prejudice had grown up that Ley Line Magic was not as powerful as other magics were. More witches began using wands to focus their own inner core of magic, and as time passed, Ley Line Magic became one of the ancient practices and nearly forgotten.

She went on to tell them that the location of Hogwarts had been specifically chosen for the nexus of two, very strong Ley Lines that intersected where the castle was built. Both Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff had come from a long line of female witches that had been taught the secrets of such magic. It was also magic that both women had woven into the stones that were used to build the castle and then to ultimately protect it. Every Headmaster and Headmistress learned the magic of those wards; many not knowing that they were wielding magic that was so very old.

For witches, the Ley Line both enhanced a witch's magic and allowed her the ability to focus her magic. Wandless Magic, another old practice, had its origins in Ley Line magic. Natural Wandless Wizards showed up more often than Natural Wandless witches, however, the mastery of wandless magic came easier to women.

Hermione had grinned smugly at this point in the explanation. She had already shown a good deal more ease with Ley Line Magic than did the boys.

"I expect that you will find it a bit harder than the boys, Severus, but only because of..." To Lyrica's surprise, the fork she'd been holding in her hand flew out of her hand and into Snape's. He merely smirked as he rose from the table, walked over to Lyrica, and handed her the fork.

"Woah, Uncle Sev, how did you do that?" asked Ron with wonder.

Draco blinked in amazement. "You didn't even say Accio!"

Snape returned to his dinner. "This remains our secret," he said as he scrutinized each teenager. "but I happen to be one of those rare wizards that are naturals with wandless magic."

"That's just too wicked cool!" remarked Draco with approval.

Harry suddenly sniggered. "Is that why you don't like 'silly wand waving'?"

Snape scowled. "Precisely, Harry. Precisely." He smirked for a brief moment and then leaned back against his chair. "Should we return to our time, your new skill must remain secret. I cannot emphasize enough how the opposition could use such a strength against you." Just as he was about to take a sip of wine from his glass, he caught Lyrica's gaze. A shadow passed over her face and her smile faded. He looked away, unable to respond to her sadness.