"Your mother and I grew up together," he began, his voice soft and low, "and we were very close for a time. However,"

"Wait," interrupted Harry. "You were friends with my mum?"

Snape took a very deliberate breath, and Harry became convinced that, regardless of how dissimilar the Alium world was from his own, the Snape there despised repeating himself as much as the one from his own world did. "I was," confirmed Snape, after a moment. "We grew up together in a small town called Cokeworth in the West Midlands. She remained my best friend until an incident in our fifth year."

"When you called her a mudblood," breathed Harry, horrified at the realisation of just how much Snape had lost that day. Harry hadn't just viewed his utter humiliation in that pensieve, he'd watched the loss of his best friend. He now felt even worse about looking into the pensieve than he had before.

Snape nodded, but narrowed his eyes as though wondering how Harry had come by that particular bit of information. To Harry's relief though, he said nothing more on the subject, instead continuing on with his tale. "While working as a Death Eater, I informed the Dark Lord of a prophecy I had overheard. I did not put any stock in it- Trelawney was widely renowned as a fraud- but the Dark Lord unfortunately took the news very seriously. This led to the Potter family being placed into hiding under Fidelius and, subsequently, to the deaths of Harry's mother and father."

Harry gasped in shock and the beginnings of outrage but made no move to speak, not wanting to miss the end of this tale, forcing himself to listen even through his rising anger. "It was the worst mistake I have ever made," continued Snape. "Upon realising who the Dark Lord would be targeting, I immediately went to the headmaster and pledged my services, in return for his protection of Harry's mother. He asked me to make the vow as proof of my loyalty, and it has bound me since. This formed part of the reason that the headmaster agreed to my guardianship of Harry. I cannot say, of course, whether the vow was also taken by my alternate self in your world, though I suspect it will have been, given that he teaches at Hogwarts."

As this sunk in, Harry felt the rage coiled in his chest begin to unleash. "You're telling me," he began, in a dangerous whisper, "That Snape," he spat out the word like it was poisonous, "is the reason my parents are dead? The reason I had to grow up with the Dursleys? And knowing that, he still treated me like something he'd stepped on for five years?" He glared a challenge at the two opposite him, but, being only met with sympathetic expressions, he soon turned away. He wanted to rage and storm, but he also wanted the answers to his questions, and he didn't know if he'd be able to find these two again to answer them if he left now. Nobody else seemed to have the slightest inclination to tell him anything. Besides which, if he kicked boxes and hurled things across the room the way he wanted to, half the Order would come running. There wasn't even any room to pace! So Harry sat in silence for several minutes, glaring at his shoes and clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to get his anger under control, until he eventually felt calm enough to speak again.

"How are you OK with this?" he asked, finally, dragging his gaze up from the floor to meet the compassionate expression of his counterpart. "He," Harry pointed to Alium-Snape, "gave your family to Voldemort!"

"Don't say the name!" admonished Alium-Harry.

"I don't bloody care," gritted out Harry, refraining from shouting it only to avoid attracting the attention of the rest of Grimmauld Place, "about the bloody name! They were our parents! And even if they hadn't been, it was always a baby, a family going to be torn apart, and he went to tell VOLDEMORT, knowing that!" he raged, ignoring the flinch of his counterpart.

There was silence for a moment, punctuated only with Harry's heavy breathing as he worked to calm himself once more.

"You have to understand," said Alium-Harry after a moment, a note of sympathy in his voice, "that I've known for a long time; I've made my peace with it. Yes, it was an awful thing to do, but everyone makes mistakes and Severus has been atoning for his for about as long as I've been alive, so," he shrugged. "I've forgiven him."

"Mistake?" repeated Harry, incredulously. "It's not a mistake, it's practically murder!"

"No it isn't!" declared Alium-Harry, hotly. "The only murderer of my parents was the Dark Lord. Severus has enough guilt to deal with without you heaping more on top! What you do with your version of him is your business, but I forgave mine years ago and it doesn't help anyone to rake over it all again!"

There was a long minute of silence, while both Harrys glared at each other. "I don't think I could ever do that," uttered Harry, eventually, venom in his voice as he looked down to stare at his hands gripping the table he perched upon, knuckles white. "Forgive him I mean. I think the best I can do is avoid him. I don't have lessons with him anymore at least."

"Mr Potter," came Snape's voice, after a moment. Harry ignored him. "Harry," the voice was more insistent now. Harry reluctantly dragged his eyes up to meet Snape's obsidian pools and was shocked by what he saw. Grief and guilt swirled in their depths, so obvious that they were nearly tangible, but Snape maintained eye contact as he began to speak.

"You do not need to forgive your version of myself, if indeed he is as culpable as I am in the death of your parents. Harry's forgiveness of me is between him and I, and I am grateful every day for the chance it has given me, but I have never for a moment believed I deserve it. I did not ask it of him, will not ask it of you and will never forgive myself. My friendship with Lily was one of the few bright spots of my years at Hogwarts and I loved her even after we parted ways in fifth year." His voice was as deep and level as Harry had ever heard it, yet Harry could somehow hear the pain behind the words.

"I was a foolish and wretched young man, consumed by hatred, but when I discovered that the Dark Lord was going after Lily and her family, the horror of what I had done was so complete, so all-encompassing, that I came to the side of the light, became a spy for Dumbledore, vowed to protect Harry with my life. It is not enough. Nothing I do will ever be enough." His voice was still strong and steady, yet the other version of Harry placed a hand on the older man's shoulder and squeezed in a gesture of comfort, and, in spite of himself, Harry was glad, because the torment in the man's eyes was such that it hurt to look at him.

Snape continued, his gaze unbroken, "I do not ask for sympathy or forgiveness from anyone, as I know I do not deserve it. I cannot know for certain if the man who you recognise as your teacher is also guilty of my crimes, but, if he is, I doubt he would ask for your forgiveness either. I doubt that he would want it even if offered, for he would feel, would know, as I do, that he does not deserve it. He does not deserve any measure of relief from his guilt, as he has stolen so much from you and from your family. For this reason, if my Harry had been sorted into Gryffindor, if I had been able to nurture a mutual enmity with him as planned, I would never have revealed my part in his parents' deaths to him. His condemnation would have been painful, his forgiveness unbearable."

The man took a deep breath, before continuing, his eyes flitting briefly to the young man beside him in the Alium, before he directed his gaze back to Harry. "However, with our situation as it was, I told him when he was twelve, before he agreed to my permanent guardianship of him. I wanted him to know the worst of me, so that he would not discover it later and feel misled, or betrayed. I was fully prepared to ask for another staff member to take temporary guardianship while we looked for a more permanent solution, but Albus said that one of Harry's greatest strengths was his ability to forgive, and Harry proved him to be correct in his assessment." Alium-Harry's hand had remained on Snape's shoulder, and, after a moment, he began to speak.

"I spoke to the headmaster about it, once," said Harry's other self, drawing the attention of the other two to him. He was speaking to Harry, but looking at Snape. "He said that it had to happen, that it had to be Severus, or the Dark Lord would never have been defeated."

Harry was confused, "How so?"

"It's like this," said the other boy, turning to face him, "Mum and Dad were actively fighting the Dark Lord, right?"

Harry nodded mutely.

"Right," the other boy continued, "So, odds are, he'd have gotten them eventually, regardless. And the Weasleys, and the Longbottoms- everyone, really. What stopped him, before he could?"

"I did," said Harry, softly. "Well, my mum's love, or so Dumbledore says."

The other Harry went on, staring meaningfully at his other self. "Exactly. But why you? Do you really think no other parents stood in front of their children to protect them during that war? Why did it have the effect it did when Mum did it? How was your case different from the countless others where the Dark Lord wiped out entire families?"

"Because…" Harry thought about this, shifting his weight from foot to foot, restless but unable to move because of the boxes surrounding him, "because Mum didn't have to die, I guess. Vol, sorry, You-Know-Who told me that once. And I hear him, when the dementors come close- 'Stand aside, foolish girl!'" He shrugged. "It's different because the others were going to die anyway, but he'd have spared Mum if she'd moved."

"That's right," said the other Harry, softly. "And why did he offer to spare her life, when he viewed Muggleborns as filth and had killed hundreds of others already? Why did he bother?"

Harry narrowed his eyes in thought for a long moment. He'd never really considered it before. Then, clarity came to him and he turned to look at Snape. "You," he breathed. "You asked Vol-sorry-You-Know-Who to spare her."

Snape nodded, grimly. "I did. And so, I would imagine, did the version of me in your world, given your tale."

"And," added the alternate Harry, "if he hadn't, and their home had been attacked by Death Eaters, like so many others were during that war (which is especially likely given that Mum was a muggle-born that had 'thrice defied' him) the Dark Lord would not have offered to spare her life and she would have died anyway. But so would you, because your mum wouldn't have had the opportunity to truly sacrifice her life for yours. If Severus hadn't told the Dark Lord the prophecy, he wouldn't have been defeated, and, in all likelihood, our parents would still be dead, but so would thousands of others, and possibly even ourselves."

There was a beat of silence as Harry and Snape absorbed this. "It does not excuse what I did," stated Snape, firmly. "I did not know that my actions would lead to the defeat of the Dark Lord."

"No," agreed Harry's alternate self, "but Dumbledore once told me that, knowing what he knows now, even if he could go back in time and stop you revealing the prophecy to the Dark Lord, he wouldn't do it. In fact, he said if he had to, he'd tell you to go and do it, to make sure it happened as it did last time. He said that many prophecies never come to pass, and that if you had never revealed the prophecy to the Dark Lord, the man would be running the country today. My parents' deaths at the Dark Lord's hands, or those of his followers, were probably inevitable, along with countless more, but this way, their deaths bought fifteen years of peace. And that makes it all much easier to deal with, for me at least." He removed his hand from Snape's shoulder, with a final squeeze.

Harry mulled this over for a minute. He nodded, slowly. That did make it easier to deal with, somehow, and besides which, there was no guarantee that Snape had played the same role in his own world. He decided to lay the matter to rest for now. He would investigate later- right now, another question had occurred to him.

"Alright," he said, turning to Snape. "New question: no one ever tried to take me from the Dursley's in my world. Why did you, in yours?"

Snape sent a look over to the alternate Harry, who shrugged. "He is me," he said, "It's not like he doesn't know. So you can tell him. I think he should hear the full story."

"You are certain?" Snape clarified, and on Alium-Harry's nod, he turned to Harry. "You may not realise this- few people do- but the traits of Slytherin are closely allied to the traits of survival. As such, it is a little-known fact that we have more children who come from abusive homes than any other house. I am, therefore, adept at recognising the signs.

"Harry Potter, child of two archetypal Gryffindors, being sorted into Slytherin was, for me, the first sign that something may not be right at his home. As time went on, I spotted more signs. His lack of correspondence with home, no cards or presents, staying at Hogwarts every holiday. His pyjamas were clearly not his own, and his shoes in a poor state of repair, several sizes too big and seemingly held together by magic itself. He asked me if it would be possible to remain at Hogwarts over the summer. And, of course, I noted a failure to thrive: short stature, despite his parents' respective heights being normal, and his father in particular being taller than average; in addition to appearing underweight. Consequently, I requested a physical examination, which raised certain concerns as well. As his head of house, I was already in loco parentis. I spoke with Harry, and then the headmaster, and we came up with the arrangement that currently stands."

He made it sound so simple. So obvious. Harry felt the injustice deep in his bones. Why did no one do that for me? He thought. It wasn't until Snape responded that Harry realised he'd spoken his thought aloud.

"Do what for you, Harry?"

Harry paused. He'd never put it into words, what life at the Dursley's was like. He didn't want to make a fuss, didn't want pity. But then, but then... These people already knew, didn't they? They already knew. And they were in a mirror- it's not like they could tell anyone. So, haltingly, he tried to put into words what he'd always known, deep down, to be true.

"Someone should have taken me from there." He said, quietly, eyes on his shoes. "They know how I'm treated. They know.." he paused for a moment to gather himself, continuing in an almost-whisper, "My Hogwarts letter was addressed to the cupboard under the stairs… the Weasleys had to pull iron bars off my windows, and I know they told Mrs Weasley about them. They always send me food for my birthday because they know I don't get enough... In third year, I blew up my aunt and ran away from home. I asked Dumbledore not to send me home for the summer too, back in first year." He took a breath, slightly unevenly. "No one ever did anything. Someone… someone should have done something."

There was silence for a moment, then Snape's resonant tones filled the air, factual yet soft. "Yes, Harry. They should have."

Harry closed his eyes and sank to the floor, leaning against the table leg, suddenly fighting tears- whether of anger or sorrow he could not tell. When he opened them again, after several long minutes, he saw that Snape had lowered himself to the ground, in a mirror of Harry's pose. Harry's alter-self was seated alongside him.

"Sorry," muttered Harry, feeling heat build in his cheeks. "I'm being ridiculous, it wasn't that bad."

"It was exactly that bad," his alter-self contradicted him, defiantly. The boy in the mirror hesitated, glancing at Snape, who nodded at him solemnly. Apparently taking encouragement from this, the boy turned back to Harry, taking a steadying breath. "It's taken a long time, and a lot of work for me to realise that..." The young man in the Alium swallowed audibly. It was now Snape's turn to comfort, it appeared, as he put his arm around Harry's counterpart's shoulders, and the boy met Snape's eyes for a moment, gratitude in his own, before he turned again to face Harry, exhaling with a shaky breath before continuing, "to realise that...abuse," he stumbled slightly over the word, "isn't always physical."

"I've come to learn," he continued, and Harry watched as Snape's hand tightened around the other boy's shoulder, pulling him closer in a brief show of support, "that being called freak or boy almost exclusively, being shoved in a cupboard and left to cry alone at night, whether ill or injured or simply scared of the dark and the spiders, having lies and insults directed at me and my parents constantly, being threatened and belittled by my aunt and uncle, chased and beaten by my cousin's gang or bitten by my aunt's rabid dog," Alium-Harry's voice, already quiet, and slow, had begun to quaver noticeably during his listing of the injustices Harry remembered from his own childhood. The boy in the Alium took a deep breath, resuming his speech in a much stronger, more matter-of-fact voice, as if he had somehow taken a step back from the accompanying emotion, "...that being an outcast in my own home, always second-best, always inconvenient, unworthy of love, unworthy even of food… that it was abusive, and it was that bad".

The boy turned back to look at Snape, as he added, in an undertone, "The absence of broken bones does not mean the absence of abuse." He spoke the last bit as if reciting something from memory, and even from Harry's vantage point, the pride that the man had in his charge was obvious, written all over his face in his eyes and his smile. Alium-Harry smiled at him in return, a little tremulously, and wiped discreetly at his eyes with a handkerchief that Snape proffered with his free hand before the boy turned to level his gaze at Harry, "You've been abused," he said, his voice soft. "We both were. And you have every right to feel angry, and upset and betrayed. I feel all those things for you, because you're absolutely right, Harry. Someone should have done something."