Tempus

Tempus by dullastacks Summary: While cleaning out the deceased Professor Snape's offices a year after the final battle, Harry discovers a potion that could finally allow him to repay the debt(s) he owes "the bravest man he ever met". Categories: Canon, Enemy, Mentor, Teacher Characters: !Snape and Harry (required ), Dumbledore, Hermione, James, Sirius Genres: Drama, General, Hurt/Comfort Takes Place: Post Hogwarts, Pre Hogwarts Warnings: Alternate Universe, Time Travel Challenges: None Series: None Chapters: 2 Completed: Yes Word count: 11127 Read: 1654 Published: Oct 28 2010 U pdated: Oct 28 2010 Story Notes: Disclaimer: I'm not blonde, nor Scottish, nor named Joanne Rowling. No infringem ent is intended, nor profit sought from this piece of fanfiction. Time in a Bottle by dullastacks It took a full year after the death of Severus Snape for anyone to clean out his personal belongings. For one, it had taken most of that time to clear his name and get his portrait installed in the Headmaster's office, and no one really pai d any mind to the effects of a supposed traitor. For another, by the time Snape was cleared, and the school was able to handle students again, the castle had se aled his quarters off tight, and refused entry to anyone who tried to gain it even the Headmistress and the Head of Slytherin. And beyond that, the idea of wh atever unknown concoctions laid in wait behind the door scared off most others. So, no one thought much about it when the first volunteer in months came forward to give it a try... not that anyone would deny Harry Potter a request only mont hs after the war, anyway. Harry, with Hermione (who he managed to guilt into helping) in tow, approached t he guardian portrait and introduced himself, not at all surprised when it sneere d back. "We're here to box up Professor Snape's things," he said. "Why?" the portrait asked. Because I owe him more than I can ever repay... Because he doesn't deserve to be left to wither and die again... Because someone should finally show him the respect he deserved in life... "Because he didn't go to all the trouble of brewing potions for them to rot on t he shelf. Some of them are already past use, but it would be an insult to lose e verything," Harry said. "Continue," The portrait was intrigued. No one had ever asked for entry; the oth ers had all demanded it. "And the professor had all kinds of research and unique developments that would be lost if what was inside never came out," Hermione added. "He wouldn't like th at." The portrait gave them a pensive look, then said, "Wait here." He left his frame, but returned a short while later with Snape's portrait from t he Headmaster's office.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he sneered. "Come to loot a dead man's treasu res?" Harry bristled, but Hermione stopped him from acting the idiot. "He's baiting you," she whispered, then addressed her old potions master. "No, s ir. We're here to clean the place up." "You mean clean it out." "Yes. Someone has to, and you know we won't just throw everything into a box, mi x the ingredients and leave the school a smoking pile of rubble." "Well, I'll admit you probably wouldn't," Snape conceded. "I doubt Potter can st ill remember what to mix with what to brew anything." "I remember!" Harry insisted, then rattled off the three most complex potions he knew. "You stir that one four times counterclockwise, Potter, not six. Stirring it six will make it thicken beyond ingestation." Harry glared at him. "It's us or Neville. He's the only other one willing to do this." "Very well," Snape conceded. Portrait or not, he was gratified to hear that his lessons had stuck with Harry at all. "I suppose a Potter is marginally preferabl e to a Longbottom. Don't break anything!" For an hour, Harry and Hermione carefully inventoried the store room. They disca rded the ingredients that had aged past their usefulness, then transfigured the empty jars into unbreakable boxes with meticulously detailed labels (Hermione's part, of course). And the whole time, Snape watched over them from the portrait above his desk, sitting on a stool in Salazaar Slytherin's lab room. Once the main store room was clean, and they'd worked their way through the lock ed one as well, it was on to Snape's "off-limits" cabinet, which held his more d angerous, and occasionally Dark potions. This was where he kept things like Veri taserum and the special orders he'd received from Voldemort while he was still i n service as a spy. Carefully - very carefully - they took the bottles out one at a time, only to fi nd they weren't labeled. Hermione pulled the stop on the first one, intending to smell it, when the portrait stopped her. "I've thought you many things, Miss Granger, but suicidal was never one of them. .. though if you tell me your name has changed to Mrs. Weasley, I might have to adjust that assumption." She glowered at him. He sneered back. "That potion you were so willing to inhale would have systematically removed mos t of what you'd learned over the last several years from your memory." "That's... that's... that's barbaric!" "It was in a locked cabinet for a reason, Miss Granger. When someone informed th e Dark Lord that they knew "nothing" on whatever subject he required information

, occasionally he wanted to make sure they didn't. One drink, and they wouldn't even remember how to walk upright. It's illegal to even hold..." Hermione banished it on the spot, and after that, she made sure to ask him what was in each phial before going further. While Hermione dealt with the cabinet, Harry saw to the last thing in the room, which was Snape's desk. He sorted the papers and filed them into a box, collecte d the few personal effects, and put them carefully into another. Hermione walked over and placed a small stone penseive on the desk. "It was in the cabinet," she explained. "Yeah, I know," Harry said, sadly, and portrait Snape's face settled into a hars h scowl. "Don't worry, Professor. I've had enough of your memories to last me a lifetime." He sat the penseive at the back of the file box, then closed it, and prepared to leave. "There's one more," Snape said. "One more what?" Harry asked. "Drawer to that desk." "I don't see another one." "Which is the basic concept behind a hidden drawer, is it not?" Hermione examined the desk, ran her hands along the edges for a clasp, checked f or a lock of any kind. She found nothing. "He's goading you," she said, finally. "There's nothing here." Harry wasn't so sure. Snape wasn't the practical joke type, alive or dead, and h is admission that there was one more secret to be found had seemed almost reluct ant. Harry stood back and examined the desk closely. "This leg is thicker than that one," he said finally. The desk was covered with a vined pattern that thickened into a knot of carved brambles on one side. "Is i t here?" he asked portrait Snape. The painting gave a tiny nod. Hermione put her fingers into the brambles and pulled, but nothing happened. Not even when she shook it. "It won't open." The portrait gave an exaggerated sigh. "When will you learn, Miss Granger? Brute force is no replacement for wit and logic." Her face turned bright red, and her hand slipped into her pocket for her wand. "Now he's baiting you," Harry snickered. "How does it open?" "You use the password," Snape said.

Hermione, once again itching to prove she wasn't a dunderhead, started screaming off potions ingredients. "Wolfsbane! Aconite! Monkshood!" "Those are all the same thing," Harry said automatically, and the portrait came very close to laughing. It seemed he'd learned that lesson, as well. Hermione growled. "Ashwinder! Flobberworm! Asphodel! Wormwood!" "Not even close," the portrait sneered. "And to think, I once assumed you belong ed in Ravenclaw..." "Well, what is it then?" "Something you'd never guess." She eyed the desk and got a strange look on her face: "Voldemort?" "Not. That." portrait Snape said with a sour look. "I said it was something you'd never guess, Miss Granger. It's highly probable t hat Potter can." "Why not just tell us?" she asked. "I'm two dimensional. It's rare to find cause to amuse myself these days." She huffed again. Harry, however, was focused on the supposed drawer. He stared at it, flipping th rough all the things (surprisingly few in number) that he knew about the Potions Master. A small smile quirked his mouth, and very quietly, he whispered "Lily". "Bravo," the portrait conceded victory as the vines on the desk began to move. T hey braided and twisted themselves together until they'd formed a perfect handle , which Harry was able to pull open with ease. It wasn't a large drawer, only big enough for one thing - a carved wooden box et ched with lilies at each corner. Harry lifted it out and set it on the desk. "I made that," the portrait said. "But I never got to give it to her. Our row ca me before." Harry didn't have to ask for clarification; he knew what Snape meant. "May I look?" he asked. He'd had enough of barging in on Snape's secrets without permission. "You might as well. Someone's going to, and I'd rather you destroyed what was in side before they can." When he lifted the lid, there were only two things there, a faded photograph of Snape and his mother where they both looked very young and happy (though he'd sa y she was the happier of the two as it seemed she was dunking Snape in the lake, school robes and all), and a crystal phial of gold liquid. Unlike his other spe cialized potions, this one was labeled: Tempus. "You bottled time?" Hermione asked.

Another, tiny, nod from the portrait. "But how? That's not possible. You can't contain the uncontainable. Time's a con cept, not a substance..." "Says the young woman who used a Time Turner for an entire year," the portrait c hallenged. "You mean this works like a Time Turner?" "It's more than that." "How far can you go back?" Hermione asked, fascinated by this new knowledge so c lose to her fingers. "As far as you can remember." "But that's..." "Impossible?" "Dangerous," she corrected. "You could change too much. It's not worth it." "It would have been for me," the portrait said softly. "Why?" "You were going back to see her, weren't you?" Harry asked, but he didn't need t he portrait to answer. That's the only reason his mother's photo would have been inside the box. "To see her and see myself. To hopefully talk myself out of... it doesn't matter . I meant to use it once the war was over, but now I don't have the chance." "You'd've just disappeared into the past?" "One week," Snape clarified. "That's the bounds of the potion if you drink it al l. Half a bottle will give you a day, but it was all for naught. Destroy it befo re someone else uses it. Miss Granger's right; it's not worth the risk. Let it g o back to being an urban are no notes, so no one can recreate it." "And how do you know where you'll end up?" Harry asked, suddenly more interested than he should have been. "There's no dial to control it like with a Time Turne r." Neither of the other two noticed his fascination. Snape was in lecture mode, and Hermione was soaking up all the information he was willing to impart. "All I would have had to do was picture a memory, and it would take me to that a pproximate time - that's why I built in a week long window. I don't know if it's exact, and there's no way to test it without trying it out." Some sort of traction pulled the phial into Harry's hand where he weighed it ... so light for something so potentially heavy and world changing. It wasn't even that big of a drink, really, and it certainly looked more pleasant than most of the healing potions he'd ingested over the years. He pulled the stop and took a sniff; it smelled like tangerines. "I would ask you one favor, Potter," Snape said, cracking the odd fog that had w rapped around Harry's brain. "Destroy the box, too. And the photograph. I put my heart into that carving, and that photo is a version of myself who has been dea

d for far longer than my body. It's only right they should be laid to rest... Po tter?" "Harry?" Hermione asked. But Harry wasn't listening. He was hypnotized by the possibilites in his hand. A week in the past. What he could do with a week... He could save Tonks and Remus, and keep Teddy from being an orphan... He could stop Sirius from going into the Veil... He could destroy the ring before Dumbledore put it on or stop Snape from taking that Unbreakable vow... He could save his parents... His eyes drifted to the photograph while his ears ignored the now shouting voice s behind him, and in that instant his mind was made up. Harry focused on a singl e memory, stolen from another's past, closed his eyes, and downed the bottle wit hout another thought. This wasn't like the Time Turner. There was no sensation of being frozen while the world spun backward around him. No, Harry felt... weightless, without body or substance, and for one desperate moment, he wondered if he'd managed to ingest the only potion Snape ever got wro ng and killed himself. The world dissolved into a golden light; there was nothin g to grab onto, no landmarks to guide his way, and then... It stopped. All of it. He was standing in the same position he'd been before, if not the same place. He didn't fall out of the sky or trip on his feet like he would have if he'd come out of a Floo. Harry was simply standing in the middle of a dirt walkway with a blue sky overhead and green grass on either side. Hogwarts, unhurt and intact rose up behind him. He'd done it. Now all he had to do was figure out how to... "Good afternoon, Mr. Potter..." Harry cringed, then turned to the all too famili ar voice. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that the Headmaster would be alive in t his time, and that he'd still be at the school, but it didn't seem like the pres sing complication in Snape's office that it turned into standing ten meters from the man himself. Having no choice, other than to ignore Dumbledore, he turned, then watched as re alization set in. "You are not James Potter," he said. "No." "Then I guess there is no need for me to inquire about your being out of uniform ." Another cringe. Harry hadn't thought of that at all. It had been a while since h

e'd worn students' robes, and he hadn't bothered with anything but Muggle attire since he was cleaning. "I must say it's a relief," Dumbledore said with the deceptive cheer he used to cover serious thought. "I did not relish the idea of removing points for such a careless oversight." Another cringe. Harry had heard that the Marauders were favored by their teacher s, especially Dumbledore and McGonagall, but hearing it as reality was almost to o much. He doubted there would have been any hesitation at all if he'd looked li ke any other student. "Must I inquire as to who you are and where you came from, or do you intend to t ell me of your own volition?" the Headmaster asked. His blue eyes were sharp and calculating, and Harry knew better than to look him straight in the eye - a fac t Dumbledore didn't miss. Just like Harry didn't miss the fact that the old man had his wand in hand, if h idden discretely at his side. He'd forgotten that the time he chose was firmly within the first rise of Voldem ort's power, and that a stranger popping into Hogwarts without notice would set off alarms. The Headmaster was most likely in an all out internal fit, trying to figure out how someone managed to Apparate through the wards. "I didn't Apparate here," Harry said quickly. "In fact, I suspect the only reaso n I was able to land here is because I was already inside the school when I star ted my journey." "How is it that you were inside my school when I do not know you?" "You know me, Professor, or at least you will." That certainly caught the old ma n's interest. "I'm a friend." To prove it, Harry pulled up his sleeves and bared his wrists to show there was no Dark Mark, and Dumbledore relaxed by the tinies t margin. "Not all enemies of the Light bear the Mark," he said. "No, but allies of the Dark don't get along well with Fawkes, or know about The Order of the Phoenix you named for him." Dumbledore, for once, was caught off guard at this boy's casual mention of his m ost secret Order. "And you'll have to forgive me for not looking you in the eyes, but I ou feel about contaminating the past, and if I let you Legilimize me, n things you wouldn't want to know... I really don't like the idea of try and Oblivate you, sir. You wouldn't like it either, as you'd very nd up a fried egg."

know how y you'd lear having to possibly e

Dumbledore chuckled; the twinkle returned to his eyes. "I take that to mean you are from the future?" "I am," Harry said. "And the reason I look like James Potter is a very simple an d logical one..." The Headmaster brightened. "You're James' son." "Harry James Potter, sir... it's good to see you again."

"Then you have not seen me for a while," Dumbledore said. Harry cringed. "No need to feel bad, my boy. You've let nothing slip but the given. I am alread y an old man, and by the time James has a son who is able to grow to your age, I would be positively anciet. Death is not a surprise." "I don't think you could qualify as ancient until you outpace Mr. Flamel." "You know Nicholas!" "Only his work. We had some issues with the Philosopher's Stone a while back." "And that is dangerously close to too much information, dear boy. Perhaps you sh ould keep that story to yourself, and instead tell me what brings you back so fa r before even your own birth." "I was testing a potion." "A potion for time travel?" The Headmaster's eyes widened above his half-moon gl asses. "Is such a thing even possible?" "You sound like my friend Hermione," Harry grinned. "She didn't think it would w ork, the man who made it swore it would, and I decided to see for myself." "Then I shall make another assumption. You followed your father into Gryffindor? " "Guilty as charged," Harry smiled. "And reckless as anything... if you believe m y old Potions professor. Which you usually did." "Why would a professor at this school create such a thing? Are things so bad in your time that this sort of desperation was needed?" "Actually sir, he created the potion for use as a last resort, in case it was ne eded after the war." He'd let Dumbledore infer what he wanted from that. If he a ssumed Snape created the potion to defeat Voldemort, it was better still. "He ne ver used it, and was, in fact, deceased when Hermione and I found it while clean ing out his desk. His portrait told us what it was and wanted us to destroy." "Then why did you not honor his wishes?" "Because there was a chance to right a wrong, and I took it. I owed this man a l ife debt - more than one, as did more people than you could imagine, and it was never paid. Today I found the way to pay him back. He's most likely livid at the moment, assuming Hermione hasn't frozen him in his frame." "I can understand why he'd feel that way. Rearranging time, no matter the motiva tion is a dangerous bit of business. I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to do wha tever it is you think you need to do for your friend. Please, come inside, and w e'll see about getting you home before you do any damage." The old man walked off back toward the castle. "He got my parents killed," Harry said quietly. "Excuse me?" Dumbledore stopped and turned around. The twinkle was gone from his eyes, replaced by an attempt to understand what this boy could possibly mean.

"He wasn't my friend. He made a mistake that got my parents killed. He was my to rmentor. My teacher. My mentor - though I was too stupid and angry at the time t o realize what he was doing. He saved my life, many times over, and I let him di e. I looked him straight him in the eye, then stepped over his body, and left hi m alone on a cold, dirty floor with his blood still running... he was the braves t man I ever knew, and I didn't know it until it was too late to do anything abo ut it." "Guilt is a hard weight to bear." Dumbledore put what he meant to be a comfortin g hand on Harry's shoulder, but the boy shook it off. "It's not just guilt..." He was so angry he was tearing up. "No one ever paid hi m back. No one. Everyone used him until there was nothing left, and then they al l forgot about him. No one even buried him. And the worst part of it was that he didn't think he deserved any better. He expected to die, and really, he'd been dead a lot longer than his body. He told me as much today." "Some of us pay a high price for our mistakes, my boy. It sounds like this man w as one of them." "He wasn't paying for his mistakes, sir. He was paying for yours." Dumbledore drew up short. "The man I speak of starting dying long before he had any choice in the matter. He was misused as a child, and when he came here and reached the place he'd hung his hopes on for years, it got worse... that's on you." "I don't understand what you mean." And it was clear he didn't. "He was tormented, from the second he stepped on the train, by people you protec ted. People you favored. He was almost killed, and you did nothing... and don't bother assuming it was some sort of accident out of your control, because it was n't. It won't be. If it happens, when it happens, it will be nothing short of pr e-meditated, attempted murder." "You say attempted..." Dumbledore choked. How on earth would something like this happen at his school, to one of his charges, and he not do anything? "One of those involved realizes that what's about to happen is something that ca n't be taken back, and he stops it. But the damage is done, and not just to one person," Harry continued. "He turns colder, because now he knows there's no one he can trust among the so-called Light. His only avenues open into the darkness, and he will run down them with his head held high and his heart charred to ash because it's down those roads he finds a sympathetic ear and promises of retribu tion and protection against his tormentors." "I.. I truly do not know what to say, my boy. You speak with such certainty and conviction, yet I cannot conceive of a time or place where I would permit such t hings." "You're already in both the time and the place, Professor. That's why I chose it . It took a memory to bring me back, so instead of stopping the deaths of those I held dearest, I chose the memory I stole from him... the moment I humiliated h im." "But, surely you do not understand the gravity of what you ask. It may seem a sm all thing to you, changing something simple, but-"

"He didn't have a single happy memory," Harry said, and Dumbledore paled. "As he lay dying, he gave me his memories, as though he needed me to understand what h ad happened all the years I'd known him, and even those that promised joy were h orrible for the knowledge of what came later. Everything he ever loved and wante d was dangled just out of his reach. Every time he sought absolution, he was den ied no matter the penance he paid. He gave up trying to live a human life becaus e he was never seen as a person. He was a weapon to be aimed, a resource to be t apped, a force to be feared, never just a man or a friend or even the hero he ha d the right to be known as." Blue eyes stared into green, teetering on the edge of piercing into the younger mind to find out of whom this boy spoke, and how a man who seemed nothing but de spicable had earned such fierce loyalty, even if it was at the cost of his own l ife. But he knew he couldn't afford to look. He risked seeing too much and chang ing the wrong thing. And yet, even if he did nothing, the boy's presence was a change in the lines. H e had placed himself where he had no right to exist... "The man of whom I speak isn't the only one I respect, Professor. Nor is he the only one whose secrets I keep. Where and when I come from, you trust me... I try to trust you, but sometimes it's hard when you seem to know things no one shoul d, and then refuse to share with the rest of us. I know things about you, and yo ur brother, Aberforth, and your sister Ariana..." Dumbledore startled at his sister's name. He never spoke of her... if this boy k new of his sister, then he was most likely someone more trusted than a mere stud ent or even colleague. "I know of your quest for the Hallows, and made sure the Elder Wand was buried s o that it's a quest no one else can achieve... yes, I've held them all." At that, Dumbledore was truly shocked. "I'm here for a week, like it or not. You can try and lock me up, but I'll warn you, the castle likes me; I won't stay locked up for long. I know this building and the pathways in and out of it better than probably even you. There are rooms you don't know exist that the castle shared with me because I needed them. If I need them again, Hogwarts will make them available." "Truly?" "I was a Gryffindor, and the castle let me into the private quarters of the Head of Slytherin without a password. His own portrait showed me where Professor Snthe man I've mentioned - hid the vial of Tempus, and told me about the hidden c ompartment no one even knew was there. Yes. The castle likes me." "Why does your mission of mercy require a week?" "I'm not sure that it will, but that's the bounds of the potion. I could accompl ish my goal today tomorrow, or the day I leave. I don't have a specific date." "You look too much like James Potter for anyone to mistake you as anything other than a relative of his. You could, in fact, be brothers. And your eyes are rath er singular as well. I take it your mother's name was Lily?" Harry didn't answer, save to mumble something under his breath that left him sta nding before Dumbledore with hazel eyes and white blond hair that fell to his sh oulders. If he at least looked the part of a Pureblood, things might go easier i f he needed to actually speak to someone in Slytherin.

"I can pass for a seventh year student, and you can call me part of some good wi ll exchange or something... you can make this work. Please, sir, help me do this . I have no intention of revealing myself to my parents, or anyone else. I won't ask to be in Gryffindor to be close to them (he didn't think he could stand it) , nor would I ask to be in Slytherin where the man of whom I speak lives (he kne w he couldn't stand that). Ravenclaw would be better. They're more neutral groun d." "And for a name?" "Orion Dursley," he said with very little thought. For once his so called family would be of use and he took comfort from claiming Sirius' middle name as his ow n. "Very well, Mr. Dursley. We'll forgo a traditional Sorting, as I'm not sure the Hat would be so easily swayed by your logic, though the use of that logic tells me you'll fare well in Ravenclaw, even if it is only for a week." "Thank you," Harry said. "Though I'm not sure I agree with you about the hat. It let me talk it out of its plans the last time." He gave the Professor a cheeky grin that would have pegged him as James Potter's son no matter what he looked l ike. "Come inside," Dumbledore said, gesturing back to the castle. "We need to discus s this further, and then we'll need to speak to your Head of House-" "Flitwick?" "So Fillius is still there in your time, as well." In spite of the fact that he' d learned yet another fact about the future, the Headmaster couldn't help but sm ile. It seemed that his friend was going to be around for a while, and that mean t someone else who would survive the war. "Yes, I mean Professor Flitwick. We'll have to introduce you and give him your cover story." Harry, now Orion, followed the old man back up the walkway and into the castle, hoping he could keep his word and not interfere too much in the things that need ed to happen to make sure that Voldemort was still defeated in the end. It helpe d to remind himself that he wasn't there for himself, but Snape. Harry Potter, for once, didn't matter, and it didn't bother him in the least. For the whole week, he attended classes and did his best not to stand out in the least. He made himself an average Ravenclaw, which made it easy enough to expla in why he knew things no one his age had a reason to know, especially in Defense Against Dark Arts. He'd seen his parents and forced himself to keep his distance. His heart clinche d every time Sirius' distinct laugh barked over the noise in the Great Hall duri ng meals. He watched Peter with a critical eye, and wondered at the fact that he seemed a genuine friend to the rest of them, if somewhat more reserved. Remus, too, seemed quiet and withdrawn compared to the others, but Harry hadn't expecte d anything else from a teenage werewolf in hiding. His father's almost crass attempts at wooing his mother shocked him a bit, as di d Sirius' self-appointed place as James' lieutenant. He'd always imagined the Marauders as something like a double dose of Fred and G eorge, but many of the pranks Harry witnessed were mean spirited and unprovoked, not something everyone got a laugh out of like passing a box of canary creams a

round the Common Room. His father and godfather most of all seemed cruel and rel entless in the pursuit of their favorite target - Snape. And for the first time, Harry understood why. It was sickeningly simple. Snape and Lily were friends, closer than siblings fro m appearances, and that meant Snape was an obstacle planted firmly in the direct road to James' romantic notions. He wanted Lily, who wanted nothing to do with him, therefore he assumed the problem was Snape. Snape had to go, and since that 's what James wanted, Sirius threw his whole heart (unbelievably dark as it was at times) into making sure he got it. And to his absolute horror, Harry watched as time after time, their abuse was ig nored, overlooked, explained away to such a degree that he caught himself musing that the staff seemed to be under the Imperious at times. He always pulled that thought back quickly, refusing to believe that his Dark raised godfather would use the knowledge he'd gained from his family to that end. Sirius didn't deserve Azkaban... he had to keep that thought in mind. He didn't do things like that. He was innocent. Though, if he'd thought nothing of killing Snape as a boy (and from what Harry h ad seen, he'd believe it), then what made him think Sirius didn't deserve to be locked up? Harry knew they'd been stepping up their humiliation of the gangly Slytherin, an d he knew it was only a matter of days before they'd push things too far and ope n the rifts that would last the rest of their lives. He'd taken to haunting the path where Snape's memory told him the so called prank would happen. Always watc hing. Always listening. Always waiting, right up to the last day of the potion's potency. Then he heard it. Whispers and laughter, the beginnings of a crowd. Harry took off at a run, down the walk toward the trees where he knew the worst day of Snape's life was about to come to pass. He saw his father and godfather a t the head of the mob, taunting the thin, pale boy who'd been minding his own bu siness, and was shocked to realize he couldn't see them as the people he loved, but bullies no better than Dudley and his gang. Peter and Remus weren't helping, but they weren't stopping the taunts, either. T hey stood back, watching, just close enough to be considered participants withou t lifting a wand. While James pointed his own wand directly at Snape, Sirius wor ked the crowed into a jeering frenzy. When it happened, Harry was ready. Snape lifted into the air, as those around him laughed and pointed. His book fel l to the ground and his face turned red with embarrassment he tried to pass off as fury, but he'd lost his wand, as well, and couldn't even defend himself. "Who wants to see Snivellous' underpants?" James called, and the crowd cheered i n response, but when he tried to make good on the threat, something appeared bet ween him and his target. A shield stopped James' every attempt, making him frustrated and angry as he wat ched Snape turned right side up and lowered back to the ground. Everyone was loo king around for the one who'd spoiled the joke... and then they were laughing ag ain. Caught off guard, and sent off balance, Sirius and James flipped up into the air

as Harry finally came into the clearing so they'd know who attacked them. "What are you doing, Dursley?" James yelled. "Put us down!" "Why? I thought you two appreciated a good joke." "This isn't funny!" Sirius snapped. The crowd had turned on them, pointing and l aughing with them as the target now. "You thought it was funny two minutes ago," Harry said coolly. Behind him, Peter and Remus seemed to be debating defending their friends, but S nape had regained his wand, and they were well aware of how dangerous the young Slytherin could be if provoked. He was waiting for an excuse to jinx one or both of them. "Dursley, put us down!" James tried again. "We were just teasing Snivellous!" "And I'm just teasing you." "Enough, all right!" "I don't know." Harry turned to the crowd. "Is it enough?" They cheered, indicating they were willing to watch a bit longer. "DURSLEY! LET US DOWN!" "If you insist." Harry shrugged and ended the levitation, letting them fall wher e they would. It wasn't high enough to hurt anything but their pride, and the cr owd roared. "Not so fun when the joke's on you, is it?" Harry asked when they'd gained their feet. "You had no right to interfere," Sirius growled. "Snivellous deserved what we di d!" "Really? Is his being able to read that big an affront to your existence? Are yo u jealous? Because if that's it, I'm sure there are professors here who could te ach you to read, too..." There was another rumble of laughter from the crowd. Sirius lunged at him, but Harry dodged. "That's all you've got? And I'd heard you wanted to be an Auror." Sirius tried again, and failed to contact again. "Why are you defending that slimy snake?" "Is that what this is about? His being in Slytherin?" "Of course! They're all a bunch of Dark, evil-" "So you're threatening the whole House, then. Not Snape specifically?" By this point, the crowd had grown to include most of the student body, includin g a knot of Slytherins clustered around Snape. "No! I mean, yes! I mean... James..."

"Well, Potter? What's your problem? Or can you only attack someone with a four o n one advantage?" Harry turned on his father. "You don't understand how things work here, Dursley," James said, a bit haughtie r than Harry liked. It turned out, that with all the things he'd heard about his parents, Snape's accounts had been the most accurate, and that made him furious . "It's not just because he's a Slytherin. Snape's different. He's..." "OH!" Harry feigned revelation. "This is because he's half-blooded! You're just a bigot. How... plebeian." "I DON'T CARE ABOUT HIS BLOOD STATUS!" "Really? Then the only conclusion I'm left with is that you're just plain pathet ic. You're nothing but a spoiled brat bully who can't stand to see that there's someone immune to your charm or someone who's not willing to hand you whatever y ou think you're entitled to at the moment. Snape doesn't pander to you, and *gas p* had the nerve to be friends with someone you laid claim to like some neandert hal, and suddenly you can't live in the same universe with him." James' eyes flicked to Lily and back, but didn't say anything. "You can't even just leave him alone. No... you have to seek him out and annihil ate him. You have this overbearing need to put someone you find inferior in his place while making sure you stay on top. You need those beneath you to fear you. .. wow... that sounds like a familiar M.O. You can't by chance talk to snakes, c an you?" The crowd gasped. Harry had just compared their Golden Boy to Voldemort himself. "How dare you!" Sirius jerked Harry around by the arm, to face him completely. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break some rule of ettiquette with your master, mutt?" Har ry asked coolly. Sirius jerked back at the nickname. "It's a bit odd for a Pureb lood to be a Mutt, don't you think? I wonder what your parents were thinking whe n they named you after the dog star. Maybe they knew you'd get kicked out of the litter from the start." Harry made to walk off, as though he were bored with the situation, and the crow d in front of him split to let him pass. From behind him, a jet of red light bou nced off a shield none of them heard him erect. "EXPELLIARMUS!" he roared, knocking Sirius fully into the crowd with the strengt h of the attack. His wand slapped into Harry's hand. "You'd attack someone with their back turned? How big of a coward are you? Don't even think about it, Potte r... Accio James Potter's wand!" James' wand joined Sirius', and he promptly banished them both from sight. "You know what, you two deserve each other," Harry sneered. "And since you're al ready practically joined at the hip..." A sticking charm left James and Sirius glued to each other from hip to ankle on one side so that they were basically one creature with three legs. "And here I thought three-legged games were Muggle inventions." Harry walked off this time, not bothering to turn around when the crowd began to roar with laughter and Potter-Black tried to walk. A long shadow joined his on

the path. "Thank you," Snape said in a clipped tone that showed just how unaccustomed he w as to receiving help or showing gratitude. "No one has ever shown those two up b efore, nor have they ever taken steps to assist... I mean... " "Don't mention it," Harry said. "Losers like that can only thrive so long no one leaves the crowd to show them how close to humiliation they are themselves. The ir power's imaginary, and easily disbursed. Hopefully they'll get that now." "I doubt it." Snape grumbled as he trudged on up the path, thoroughly uncomforta ble. Behind him Harry kept his steady pace. There was no need to hurry anymore, and h e felt spectacularly light. Like a burden was gone... and then they joined him o n the walk. "Hey, Dursley!" "Hey, wait up!" "No," Harry said without turning around. The two behind him just sped up. "We want to apologize," Remus said. "For Sirius and James. They can come on stro ng sometimes, but..." "But what?" Harry rounded on Remus and Peter. "What possible excuse can you manu facture to justify attacking an unarmed student who was reading a book or for tr ying to attack someone from behind when they assumed he was unprepared?" Neither of them had an answer. "We're sorry," Peter said. "Yes. You are." Harry faced Remus first. "You, of all people, should have more e mpathy for someone declared an outcast because he's assumed "dark". Mobs are fic kle things, and you never know where they'll put their attention next. Sometimes there's a good reason, and others all it takes is the pull of the moon to make good men act like total animals." Remus paled and looked away. "What do you know?" Peter demanded with a sudden flare of protective temper for his friend that Harry wouldn't have thought him capable of. "I know that hiding behind the bigger bully isn't a guarantee of protection. All it does is make you servant to a crueler master." Peter stood there, dumbstruck, as Harry once again continued his trek up the hil l. He was starting to get that weightless feeling again, and knew the potion was running its course. "Are you going to leave them like that?" Remus asked. "It'll wear off as soon as they - both - manage a sincere apology." Which could be a very long time. "Of course, Severus has to accept it for it to work..." A very, very long time.

"What about their wands?" Peter squeaked. "Tell them to take it up with the Giant Squid. I imagine he's using them for too thpicks about now." Harry dashed up the hill as the light around him began to flare gold and dove th rough the front doors of the school. The only place he could think to disappear from without being seen was Myrtle's bathroom, so that's where he went. He'd onl y just shut the door when the past dissolved around him and his body hurtled bac k toward the future. He only hoped he'd done enough. Once he landed, he put his face back to normal and discarded the Ravenclaw robes , leaving him in the Muggle clothes he'd worn beneath them everyday in anticipat ion of his return. He looked to be in some sort of storage closet this time, so he kicked the robes behind a bin and opened the door into the Hogwarts dungeons. Not long after he started toward the stairs that would take him to the Main Hall , he heard a familiar, and predictably annoyed, voice. "There you are!" Hermione hurried over to him and grabbed his arm. "We've been l ooking everywhere for you. What are you doing down here? And why are you dressed like that?" "I was cleaning..." he said. She rolled her eyes at him. "Honestly! And they say I'm a perfectionist. Where's your gown?" "My ... huh?" "Your gown?" She pointed to herself. "You know, graduation. That not at all impo rtant gathering of students and family at the end of seventh year that means we' re out of school for good?" Seventh year? They hadn't attended their seventh year... what was going on? "You are hopeless, Harry Potter. Stand still." And with a flick of her wand, Har ry's clothes were transfigured into graduation robes matching Hermione's (minus the Head Girl badge, of course, though he did have a Prefect one) "Now let's go. They aren't going to wait the ceremony. People have been lacking happy days for too long to wait anymore." She dragged him up the stairs and into the Great Hall, which was full of student s and teachers and families and happy chatter. There was barely any damage remai ning from the final battle at all. "Found him," Hermione announced. "It's about time, Potter, get up here." And the next thing he knew, Draco Malfoy had him by the other arm, assisting Hermione in hauling him up to the newly ere cted stage where the rest of their year was waiting. "Malfoy?" "Yes. Your eyes are working fine. Yay you for finally getting rid of the glasses ."

Harry reached for his face, and sure enough, there were no glasses there. "What happened to him?" "Too many cleaning fumes, I'd say." Hermione snickered. "Cleaning? Today? Honestly Potter, you're as bad as the bushy bookworm. The cast le does have elves, you know." They dropped Harry into a seat off to the side, and took their own beside him. P ansy Parkinson sat on the other side of Draco with a Prefect badge of her own. A pair of Ravenclaws, one of whom he'd never seen before, took her other side, wh ile Susan Bones and another Hufflepuff rounded out the line on Harry's other sid e. He was sitting in the Honor Row. At graduation. But... they never got to have graduation. This made no sense. Professor McGonagall was at the podium, speaking, though Harry wasn't listening to a word she said. He was desperately trying to get his eyes to adjust so he co uld see the people out in the audience past the flashing cameras. Hagrid was easy enough to spot, taking up a good deal of the back wall; Madame M axime, the half-giantess from Beauxbatons was there with him. Others weren't dif ficult to make out, like Luna Lovegood with her shining white hair, sitting besi de her father. Harry scowled as he realized it was just as easy to pick out the Malfoys. A solid block of red settled into the faces of the Weasleys as his eyes came int o better focus. Molly and Arthur, then Bill with Fleur... did they glamour Bill' s scars? Charlie, Percy, George... wait, how'd he get his ear back? Beside Georg e was... Hary blinked, then blinked again, just as someone elbowed him in the ri bs. "Ow." "Stand up," Hermione hissed. They were being introduced. "Our Head Boy: Draco Malfoy (there was a shocking amount of applause), and Head Girl: Hermione Granger (another shocking amount of applause. And our prefects: F rom Hufflepuff: Susan Bones and Justin Finch-Fletchly, Gryffindor: Harry Potter, Slytherin: Pansy Parkinson, and from Ravenclaw: Terry Boot and Grenadine Pettig rew." Harry's head whipped sideways at that name. Pettigrew? There were no Pettigrews in Ravenclaw. There were no Pettigrews in Hogwarts period! Hermione jerked him back down into his seat before he could get a good look at G renadine, and he went back to examining the crowd. The double image of an unmarr ed George Weasley hadn't moved... Fred was there, right between his twin and Gin ny. Frantically, he scanned the other rows until a splash of red caught his attentio n closer to the front. It couldn't be... Lily Potter caught her son's eye and beamed at him, then blew him a kiss. The da

rk haired man beside her pushed her hand down, with a warning look that mean she was probably humiliating her son, and the man looked just like... "Dad?" Harry whispered. "I know," Hermione whispered back with a smile. "He didn't think he'd make it, b ut old Moody threatened to stage a walk out if they didn't let his "best Auror" off to see his son graduate." "You knew he'd be here?" "I was there when Professor Lupin got the Floo call, but he didn't want me to te ll you and ruin the surprise. Are you mad?" "N-no." Mad wasn't even close to the emotions running through Harry at the moment. He le t his eyes stray from the audience to the Teacher's Row until he found Remus Lup in, alive and well, and looking not nearly as haggard as Harry remembered. He al most fell out of his seat when he caught sight of a thin profile at the end of t he row in solid black... Snape? Had the potion killed him? Was he with the dead? No... Hermione wasn't dead, neither were Ron or Draco. What was going on? The ceremony progressed and diplomas were handed out. Harry took his after the P atils received theirs, but he barely paid attention to Professor McGonagall as s he handed his over and shook his hand. His eyes were still on the crowd, and his mind was still focused on not falling down when he saw Tonks leap to her feet t o cheer with Teddy held firmly on one hip. A whistle split the air from the back of the room where Sirius, late as always, made it just in time to see him walk the stage. His eyes went back to his parents, and that was when he noticed the s hort, sandy haired man beside his mother. He looked exactly like Peter Pettigrew, and he was clapping for all he was worth . By the time Harry's feet were shuffling off to the other side of the stage, he t hought nothing could surprise him. "Congratulations, my boy," Another hand reached out to shake his, then flip the tassel on his hat to the other side, and he looked into a very familiar set of t winkling blue eyes. "Headmaster?" Dumbledore grinned. "Not bad for a week's work, Harry. Not bad at all." The only thing left for Harry to do was faint, which he did, and considering tha t he was immediately surrounded by the concerned faces of people he thought neve r to see again in life, he didn't mind one bit. The End.