Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"I'm still not sure about this, Hermione," Harry said as he stepped into the room. "This doesn't sound safe."

Hermione clicked her tongue impatiently. "It is perfectly safe, Harry. I've done all of the calculations over and over again."

Harry frowned. Ever since Hermione joined the Unspeakables, she had become a force to be reckoned with. She was not only as knowledgeable as ever, but she had piles of resources at her fingertips.

Most recently, she had been doing some research on something called "atoms," which were tiny particles no one could see. Harry vaguely remembered learning about them in primary school, but not much else. The idea was to get them moving at a high enough frequency to generate a large amount of heat. Apparently, Muggle scientists had already done this, but Hermione believed that using magic on the particles would be even more effective, so much so that fireplaces would be used only for transportation if this experiment and subsequent trial was a success.

Harry, meanwhile, was between jobs. He had tried his luck out as an Auror, but quit after discovering rather quickly that he didn't enjoy being given orders and his superiors ignoring evidence because it was simply "circumstantial." After that, he had tried his hand at joining Luna as a wizard naturalist. She had showed him all sorts of plants and animals, more than half of which were real. Unfortunately, he had grown bored walking around in fields and forests and looking at nature, so he quit that job after just two months.

Then, he had joined George at the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. This, he found immensely enjoyable. He could play with the products and chat up the customers. Then came the unfortunate time to budget and fill out piles of tax paperwork. He apologized to George and promised him that he would stay on until they found someone else to help. George relieved him of his duties early after he caught Harry snogging their delivery boy in the back room.

Harry had enough money left over in his vault to get by, but he truly wanted to find a job that fit him. So he could make money and get exposed to other people and places, Hermione offered to hire him to perform experiments. Sometimes, they took him all over the world. He wasn't a huge fan of being someone's guinea pig, but it was better than sitting in front of his television at Grimmauld Place and watching Charmed for the thousandth time.

Harry watched Hermione pull her book and review another list of calculations on her parchment. Hermione had been an Unspeakable for two years. She had initially joined the Ministry to work on stricter laws regarding Magic Non-Human rights, but found she was unable to effect change in the front lines.

Instead, she discovered that Unspeakables were rarely liable for their actions, and never in the public eye. It made it far easier for her to campaign for house-elf rights, as well as to introduce Muggle concepts with a Wizarding twist. She had already helped transition computers from simply running on electricity to being run by magic.

Now, Harry stood in an empty, silent room. It was completely white, with a strange machine that sat next to him. It was boxy and had what looked like a ray gun sticking out of its side, facing Harry. It didn't appear as though there were any atoms in the room, but Hermione assured him that there were, in fact, trillions in the air alone.

"Okay, Harry! Let me know when you start to feel any heat! If it gets too hot at any point, wave your wand in a clockwise motion. The atoms will immediately stop moving and you will be safe."

"Fine. Let's get this one over with."

Harry decided that he would much rather be having a drink, chatting up a handsome bloke at the local Muggle gay bar. He enjoyed having fast, no-strings-attached encounters. Sometimes, they only made it as far as the bathroom or the back way alley, and he was fine with that.

After having so much expected of him at such a young age, he didn't mind that he had so much trouble holding down a job, or that a relationship wasn't in the cards for him. He liked being spontaneous, with nothing to tie him down. It was easier that way.

"Harry, do you feel anything yet?"

Harry looked around the room. He didn't see anything. He felt nothing. "Nope!"

"I'm going to aggravate the atoms!"

"What in the bleeding hell does that mean?"

"I am turning on the machine!"

The strange contraption sitting next to him suddenly sent out a whoosh of air straight at his face.

"I felt some air!"

"That's to be expected."

Suddenly, out of what seemed like nowhere, a golden beam of light surrounded him. He felt a wave of heat wash over him. "Hermione, you did it!"

The light swirled around him lazily. Harry was so shocked that it worked the first try, he laughed.

He glanced around the room. It was completely filled with the gleaming light. Without any warning, the lights concentrated around him, swirling slowly at first, but quickly picking up pace. Within seconds, the light was no longer a room-brightening glow, but rather multiple sparks, circling Harry at breakneck speeds.

"Hermione, what is going on?"

The light was so bright, he shut his eyes. He remembered that if there was any problem, he needed to twirl his wand. He tried to reach for it, but the force of the light made it impossible to move.

He felt as though he was lifted into the air. He rose so high, he was convinced he would smack into the ceiling. Yet, it didn't come. Screaming and frantically trying to move, Harry felt himself lurch forward, falling through the blinding light.

**

Harry hit the ground with a thud.

He winced, grabbing his head with his hands on both sides.

It was dark, far darker than the room he and Hermione had just been in. As he looked around, he could hear the dripping of water onto the floor.

He tried to stand, but found his legs had no interest in moving. Were they broken? He had fallen hard to the floor. Instead, he picked up his wand from the floor and cast a quick Lumos.

If he didn't know any better, he’d think was in the Hogwarts dungeons. It was damp, and he immediately recognized the stones that were stacked up the wall. There were no windows, and rows of cauldrons lining the room. Harry noticed jars set along shelves, labeled in spiky handwriting he hadn't seen in years.

He drew a deep, shuddering breath. The spell was supposed to generate light. Instead, it appeared to have sent him to the darkest place he could imagine.

"Who is there?"

Harry turned, his legs still unwilling to cooperate. "Where am I?"

The voice Harry heard sent chills down his spine. It was a voice he heard say its last words, a voice that mocked him at any chance it got. "You are in my private lab, is where you are."

Snape.

"Am I dead?" He instantly regretted his words.

Torches flickered on around the walls. "You appear to be very much alive."

Harry covered his face. The lights hurt his eyes. "I don't understand. How are you here?"

He heard Snape's steps striding toward him, robes billowing behind him. "I have half a mind to curse you into oblivion."

Harry uncovered his face and turned to Snape. They gasped in tandem.

"Potter!" Snape's voice growled, and he tackled him, pinning him to the ground. "You are supposed to be dead!"

Harry was speechless. This wasn't the Snape he knew. No, this Snape was his age! This Snape had no age lines. Yes, he still had a dead, haunted look about him, but he looked about twenty years younger than Harry remembered. "I'm supposed to be dead?" he managed to choke out.

"You—and Lily—both of you."

"I'm not James."

Snape grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him up. His apparent broken leg nearly collapsed from the pain, but Snape paid no attention to it. He quickly bound Harry's hands, snatched his wand, and shoved him forward. "I'm taking you straight to the headmaster. You did a piss poor job impersonating him, whoever you are. It's Lily's whose eyes are green, not his."

Harry glanced around the room frantically. "What year is this?"

"Fuck off."

He dragged Harry up all eleven staircases to the headmaster's office. "Lemon drop." Snape's voice spat the words and he pushed through up the staircase.

"Severus, what seems to be the—who might this be?"

"I could ask you the same question. Doesn't this look astonishingly like Potter?" Snape's voice was mocking.

Harry stole a glance at Albus Dumbledore. It felt so good to see him alive. He wanted to rush forward and hug the old man, but he doubted his legs would carry him that far. Snape had essentially dragged him the entire way.

Dumbledore eyed him up and down. "He does appear to look an awful lot like James, Severus. But look, the scar."

Snape stepped forward and grasped Harry's chin, tilting his face up toward him. Harry squirmed. "It's a lightning bolt."

"Harry Potter." Dumbledore's voice was barely above a whisper.

"But how? You sent him to live with her." Snape's voice was filled with venom. "Not to mention, this is a fully grown man and Harry Potter is two years old."

Harry's legs finally gave out. "This is 1982?"

"Evidently, he is aware of the fact that he shouldn't be here, as well."

Dumbledore looked as though he wanted to laugh, but seemed too concerned for the sound to come out. "Who are you?"

Harry winced and propped himself up with his hands. "Professor, would you mind mending my legs? I can barely think through this pain."

"Of course, of course." Dumbledore stepped around his desk and over to where Harry was sitting. With a wave of his wand, Harry's legs instantly felt like normal.

Harry wasn't sure what to say. What would happen if he shared his future with them? Hermione's warning that wizards had caused horrible time loops by ruining their timeline rang in Harry's ears. Yet, he was already born, being mistreated by the Dursleys. Wasn't that fact enough to indicate that perhaps he wasn't changing that timeline?

He decided to go with the easiest answer and trust that Dumbledore, as wise as he was, would be able to stop him before he gave away too much information. "My name is Harry Potter. I am 23 years old. I was participating in an experiment to generate heat using Muggle and Wizarding technology, and somehow, I was sent here."

Dumbledore and Snape clearly hadn't expected that answer.

After the initial shock, Snape's face contorted itself into a sneer. "How do we know you're not a Dark wizard?"

Harry would much rather not be tortured by Snape. He couldn't imagine it would be any better than the verbal torment he had received for six years. "How can I prove to you that I'm not evil?"

"Tell us, Harry, did you know us in the future?" Dumbledore seemed to attempt to mask his curiosity.

He nodded. "Yes. You were my headmaster, and you were my Potions professor."

Snape scoffed. "That doesn't help anything. That's what we are right now."

Dumbledore nudged Snape. "You are not the Potions professor, Severus. You are studying under Horace, and will take over when he believes you are ready."

Snape glowered at Dumbledore, and sent Harry another nasty look.

"You told me quite often that my inflated head was exactly like my father's," Harry snapped at Snape. He turned to Dumbledore. "You told me once in front of the Mirror of Erised that you saw yourself receiving a pair of socks, because all you ever get for Christmas are books."

Dumbledore took on a ponderous look. "What else do you know?"

"I know that you were once friends with Gellert Grindelwald."

Dumbledore nodded and absentmindedly stroked his beard.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Albus, you can't be serious. He could be an old man who grew up in Godric's Hollow masquerading as some Potter child. Rather poorly, I might add." He looked Harry up and down. "However, I'm not sure why they thought a Potter would be so scrawny."

Harry stomped his foot. "I'm not impersonating anyone! I'm this small because I had to live with the Dursleys for the first ten years of my life! I was underfed and abused! There weren't enough dinners at the Weasley house to counterbalance that!"

He clapped his hand over his mouth. Snape always goaded him into saying things he knew he shouldn't. Apparently, this Snape was no different.

"If you're telling the truth, Harry—"

"That's a fairly strong 'if,' isn't it?"

"Severus." Albus turned to Harry. "If you're telling the truth, you need to remain here until we can figure out how to send you back."

"You believe him?"

Harry gulped. He had one last weapon up his sleeve that would ensure that both of them would believe him. Snape would hate him even more he already did. "I know why you renounced being a Death Eater, Snape."

Snape froze. Dumbledore looked on, interested.

"You overheard a prophecy saying that I would be Voldemort's downfall. You wanted to protect my mum. You loved her." Harry cupped his hands over his face, wincing.

His hands weren't enough. A rush of magic rippled across the room, breaking everything made of glass. Snape pushed past Harry's hands and gripped his throat. "I —you—"

His entire body shook on Harry's. From his Auror training, Harry could practically taste the fear emitting from Snape. Why was Snape so afraid of him?

"Thank you, Harry. I believe that is all the proof we need. Am I right, Severus? The only people who could possibly know are people we told—or will tell in the future. Severus, please release him."

Harry opened his eyes. Snape quickly looked away, releasing his grip.

"Headmaster, if you don't mind, I would like to go back to brewing my potions. It's what I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted by this insipid fool."

Dumbledore nodded. "That is fine. Thank you for bringing him to me, Severus. You could have killed him where you stood. That is progress, after all."

Snape barked a laugh, and slammed the door shut behind him, rattling all of the broken glass on the floor.

Dumbledore waved his wand and put everything right. "Harry, do sit."

Harry sat down, his heart still pumping in his ears. "I didn't mean to upset him. I just—I didn't think there was any other way you would believe me."

"I understand perfectly. Remind me to never question your opinion, Harry. I would hate to hear what other dark secrets you know about me." At Harry's silence, Dumbledore continued, "You need to remain here, Harry. It isn't safe for you outside of our protection. Someone could easily break a Glamor. Plus, we have an entire library here that is sure to shed some light on our situation."

Harry nodded and decided to lighten the mood. "I know a way to ensure I can go home."

Dumbledore's eyes brightened. "Do tell."

"Since the Defense Against the Dark Arts job is cursed, I could take it. No one can last longer than a year in that position."

Instead of laughing, Dumbledore clapped his hands. "Do you have any experience in the subject?"

Harry, put off, answered without thinking. "I taught a small group while I was at Hogwarts, and then I worked as an Auror for a year."

"The Boy Who Lived? A Dark Wizard catcher? How very fitting." Dumbledore nodded in approval.

"I quit. It wasn't working out." Harry spoke hastily. "I was just joking, though. Really."

"No, you weren't. Our current professor is in over her head. She has been begging me to release her from her contract since the term began."

"Didn't I hear you say that Snape was too young to be a professor?"

Dumbledore nodded. "While I would never betray my confidences to Severus, I don't quite think he's ready to manage a group of students. I'm having him apprentice under our current Potions professor until he is ready."

"Snape and I are the same age. What makes you think I'm ready?"

Dumbledore seemed to ignore the question and take out a Warhead sweet. "Harry, have you ever had one of these?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't really eat sweets."

He popped it in his mouth and puckered his face. "They taste terrible when you first put them in your mouth. However, just a few seconds later, they are unimaginably sweet and full of flavor."

"Sir, what does this have to do with me being a professor?" Harry felt a brief wave of sympathy for Snape, having to deal with backwards conversations like this all the time.

"Severus is still sour. He's hurting, Harry. Severus is an angry man who would lash out at anything that crosses him. I believe that with all of your knowledge, perhaps you can help him get past all of his grief. I know he can be a good person and a wonderful professor. He hasn't had an easy life. It doesn't sound as though you have, either."

"You want me to be a member of the teaching staff so I can help Snape get over being a Death Eater?" The words sounded even more ridiculous out loud than in Harry's head. "I don't think I'm the right person for that job. He hated me when he was my professor, and we didn't begin on a good note this time, either."

"Never mind that. You’ll learn to read through all of Severus’s attitude. Perhaps you would be interested in taking on an apprenticeship as well? I may be able to convince Lydia to stay if she trained you to take her place." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Whether or not this position is cursed, we still need someone to take on the post."

Harry took in a deep breath. "I look too much like my parents to not be recognized. What should I do about that?"

Dumbledore smiled and waved his wand over Harry. "That shouldn't be too hard to change."

**

"Merlin, is that James?" Minerva McGonagall jumped up from her desk and rushed to Dumbledore and Harry.

"The resemblance is uncanny, yes? Minerva, do you remember what we did on November first of last year?"

McGonagall's eyes darkened. "We sent Harry to live with his aunt and uncle."

Dumbledore nodded. "Twenty years later, he has returned to the past."

"You mean to tell me that this—this is—"

"This is Harry Potter."

Harry didn't know what else to do, so he smiled. McGonagall didn't look much different from how he remembered her. Sure, some of her wrinkles weren't as deep, and he knew she didn't have the scar on her arm from Dolohov's curse, but she looked to be the same Minerva McGonagall he fiercely respected.

"How did he get here?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm not sure. I was participating in an experiment to generate heat, and instead, a wave of light overtook me and sent me here."

"In other words, you didn't do this on purpose."

Harry nodded at McGonagall. "I did not."

McGonagall turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, have you ever heard of anything like this happening?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "It seems as though there is still much even I can learn."

"How do we get him back to his time?"

"That would be the real question. We will research in the library and some other collections I know of. In the meantime, I've asked for Harry to help take over some of Lydia's classes and train under her."

McGonagall chuckled. "Harry Potter, teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Once you think about it, he does seem like the man for the job, wouldn't you agree?"

Harry couldn't help but think to himself that they would be even further amused if they knew that he defeated Voldemort a second time.

"Does he have qualifications?"

"I was an Auror for a year after I took my NEWTs." Harry piped up.

"He also says he ran a Defense Club his fifth year."

It had been a while since Harry had been spoken of for anything other than his exploits with Muggle men and his lack of interest in a career of any sort. He remembered that there was once a time when his peers truly respected him. A typical conversation with an old classmate usually started with, 'Still not ready to settle down?' or 'What has Hermione got you doing now?'

"I think it would be good for Severus to have someone his own age on the staff, as well."

McGonagall nodded. "Do you really think he would help the situation? He looks so much like James."

Dumbledore waved his wand over Harry's face. Instantly, he felt his nose elongate and face change shape. "We'll keep his eye color, but he looks much more like a distant Black relative now. I'm sure that Harry Hitchens would be a fine name for him."

He didn't appreciate Dumbledore changing his face without his permission, let alone giving him a new name. "Shouldn't I be able to pick my own name and face?"

Dumbledore studied Harry's face. "Harry, you should keep your first name. That way, you will always answer to it. As for your last name and the face, the Black family is enormous. It would be easy for a Hitchens to be unaccounted for, especially since it's a Muggle name. I doubt anyone would be interested in researching your lineage once they hear it."

"I'm confused. Am I Harry Hitchens, or Harry Black?"

"Do you know who Andromeda Tonks is?" After Harry nodded, Dumbledore continued, "She married a Muggle, Ted Tonks. However, any children they have are still technically members of the Black family, despite being disowned by the rather formidable Walburga."

Harry nodded. "So Hitchens is a name of a Muggle family one of the Blacks married into?"

"You are correct."

Harry took out his wand and cast a Mirror Charm. He gasped. Instead of having his father's face, he looked as though he were the offspring of his mother and Sirius. He felt a pang in his heart. No matter how much time had passed, the thought of Sirius still brought him grief.

"Would you mind if I not look quite as much like Sirius, Professor?"

"Of course. I imagine you wouldn't want to look like the person responsible for your parents’ deaths." McGonagall looked to Dumbledore.

A feeling of joy washed over him. Sirius was alive! He was in Azkaban, but still alive!

Should he say something? Should he contact the Weasleys and have Pettigrew thrown into a fire? Harry chose to bite his tongue and not say anything. He was probably already completely changing the future just by talking to McGonagall and Dumbledore.

Dumbledore changed his face slightly, so he had slightly rounder features, but kept his normal eye shape. He even grew Harry's hair out past his shoulders, letting its madness run free. He had never had hair this long before.

"This length hair seems to be the style with both Muggles and wizards at the moment." Dumbledore smiled at Harry.

Harry chuckled. "I'm shocked you managed to do anything to my hair at all. It can be unruly at times."

McGonagall clicked her tongue impatiently. "Who else knows about this?"

Dumbledore motioned around him. "Just us and Severus. It should remain that way unless we need to disclose this information to someone else."

"I can't imagine anyone else needing to know that this is Harry Potter."

Harry nodded. "We just thought you should know, Professor."

McGonagall turned to Harry and smiled. Her smile was so familiar; hell, he had just seen it in the past week. Yet, he had never seen such a young, vibrant smile. Perhaps she was in a relationship? Harry knew that he had a stupid grin on his face after a successful night.

"We have quarters up here in Gryffindor tower if you'd like to stay here."

Harry nodded at Dumbledore. "I would greatly appreciate it."

"We can't have you staying at the Three Broomsticks all year, can we?"

As Harry thought that it wouldn't be the worst fate to live above a bar, he bade farewell to McGonagall, and followed Dumbledore to his new living arrangement.

**

"This is where you will be staying, Harry. I hope it is to your liking." Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "These were the first chambers I ever stayed in when I started working at Hogwarts. There is a special kind of magic in these walls. I'll leave you to get acquainted with them."

Harry bade Dumbledore farewell and looked around. He never thought much about his living quarters before. In his time, he lived in a small flat near downtown London. He kept it clean enough, but never spent much time making it look like a home. He had no need for it. The only time he spent in his flat was when he binge-watched Muggle television and slept.

This new space, however, was a reminder of how much Harry loved—and missed—Hogwarts. When they walked in, he saw a sitting area, complete with a couch and a roaring fireplace. Down the hallway was a bedroom with an enormous four-poster bed. There was a bathroom en suite in the bedroom, with a tub, a shower, a toilet, and a sink. Since they were in the Gryffindor tower, the décor was very much crimson, gold, and lion-themed. He appreciated it, and it made him all the more grateful to Dumbledore that he was able to stay at Hogwarts until he managed to get back to his timeline.

From what he surmised, the spinning light must have been what transported him to 1982. He was scared about what this might mean for getting back to his time. Surely, Muggles hadn't created the technology to do whatever those atoms were doing in Hermione's experiment.

He remembered that, in their third year, Hermione used a Time-Turner to go back to the past and attend multiple classes at the same time. Could he possibly use a Time-Turner to go to the future?

Dumbledore seemed hell bent on getting Harry to befriend Snape. Was he ready for that?
It had been three years since he stopped hating Snape. Snape was a product of his environment, and then had tried his best to save Harry's family.

The sorrow he saw in Snape's memories were even fresher in this Snape than in Harry's own mind. He couldn't imagine loving someone as much as Snape had loved his mother. Sure, he ruined their friendship, but Snape still loved her.

Dumbledore didn't seem to realize how hard it would be for Snape to overcome all of those feelings. It wasn't as though making a friend his age would cause him to get over all of the guilt he felt. Surely, Snape hadn't truly enjoyed all of the cruelty he had been a part of in his Death Eater days. He was scarred for life. He saw it in the Professor Snape he knew in his time and, in the short time he had known this Snape, it seemed even more apparent. He needed a Mind Healer, not a friend.

Especially not Harry, the product of the woman he loved and the man who tormented him for seven years.

As he felt his eyes grow heavy, he decided all of these thoughts about time travel and whether or not Snape would be his friend was far more thinking than he wanted to do at the moment.

He removed his robes, shirt, and trousers and lay down on his new bed. He sank into it, and he enjoyed the feeling of weightlessness as he curled up. Harry was asleep before he could even turn out the lights.

**

Harry woke up the next morning to the sun shining in his bedroom. The house-elves must have opened the curtains and shut off the lights he left on. He remembered that he had a staff meeting to get to. With a quick check of the time with his wand, he shot out of bed, and hoped the elves had been astute enough to fill his closet.

They were unbelievably astute! Harry stared at all of the clothes hung up in the wardrobe. There were robes for every occasion, as well as casual robes for day wear. He quickly threw on a pair of denims and a loose t-shirt, then a set of the black Hogwarts staff robes. He adjusted the fit a bit to make it tighter on his upper body, then stepped into the bathroom to splash his face.

It was still strange looking into the mirror and seeing a face other than his. Dumbledore hadn't changed his look too terribly much, but it was noticeable. All of his mother's features had been left on his face. While he took after his dad quite a bit, his eye color and shape, as well as his forehead, had stayed the same. The scar had been hidden by his hair falling into his face. Years ago, he would have given anything to hide the scar and stay out of the spotlight. He had gotten over that wish shortly after finishing at Hogwarts, finally coming to terms with his famous status.

He had spent a lot of time in therapy after the war. A Mind Healer saw him three times a week. They discussed everything. She helped him come to terms with the fact that he was gay, and guided him through his breakup with Ginny. He told her things that he had only ever shared with Ron and Hermione, and sometimes not even with them. They even discussed Snape at great length.

It was strange knowing that Dumbledore wanted him to help Snape. From spending barely even an hour with the other man, he seemed even more unhinged than he had been during Harry's younger years. It was no wonder that Dumbledore didn't think he was ready to take on students by himself yet. Harry chuckled to himself, seeing Snape hanging a group of students by their ankles.

He desperately tried to comb his hair. If Dumbledore had changed his face, why couldn't he have changed the unruliness of his hair? He pulled his hair back again, still adjusting to its new length.

Harry took one last glance at himself in the mirror and walked out, ready to head to the staff meeting.

As he walked down the steps to the staff room, he passed several groups of students. Some of the younger students stared open-mouthed at him, while an older group of girls looked him up and down, giggling. He simply smiled and stepped into the staff room.

"Ah, Harry Hitchens! Dumbledore told us all about you! The name is Flitwick: Filius Flitwick!"

Harry shook the short man's hand. "You teach Charms, yes?"

Flitwick smiled broadly. Harry couldn't help but remember how he fell off his stool when he called Harry's name during roll the first day of Charms. "That I do! We hear you'll be apprenticing under Lydia?"

Harry nodded. "I still haven't met her. I hope she's alright with that."

Flitwick waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "Nonsense." He leaned in closer. "Between you and me, I think that job post is cursed. Be sure to count all your limbs after every class."

Harry forced a laugh. "Right, so I've heard."

Harry was then introduced to professors Sinistra and Vector. He had never actually met Professor Vector before, so it was finally nice to meet the woman who sent Hermione into a tizzy every other week trying to prove theorems and solve equations.

McGonagall quickly joined them and they all began giving Harry advice on how to teach.

"Never smile."

"Repeat your directions three or four times."

"Never let students pass notes."

"Book reading is nice, but the students really want applications."

"Only assign the amount of homework you're willing to mark."

"If you laugh at a student's joke, be ready for the consequences."

"Assign detention to the first student who calls out."

The door opened and closed, and Harry could see Snape sneak into a seat near the back.

"Severus, do you have any suggestions for Harry's first day working with students?"

Snape sneered at McGonagall. "You're not my professor anymore, so I don't need to answer you."

He bent forward and took out a potions book from his bag. He remained bent forward and stared into the enormous tome sitting on his lap.

Sinistra made a face. "Don't bother with him, Harry. He doesn't want to teach, the way we do. He's here because he would get killed by You-Know-Who's followers if he left Hogwarts."

McGonagall shushed her. She turned to Harry and said in a low voice, "Severus is just a little testy. Believe it or not, you can hold a decent conversation with him."

Harry shrugged. "He's the only other professor close to my age, so I thought we might get along."

Vector chuckled. "You don't get along with Severus Snape. Ever."

Just then, Dumbledore stepped inside. The teachers all took seats. Harry took a risk and sat down next to Snape. He glanced at Dumbledore and saw that Slughorn had pulled him into a conversation.

"Hi."

Snape kept reading.

"I thought you might be able to show me around the grounds sometime."

Though he continued reading, Snape spoke. "You said you were a student here, right? What could have changed in ten years?"

Harry clicked his tongue impatiently. Dumbledore had asked him to die to save the world, yet it was the order to get on with Snape which would cause Harry to admit to himself that Dumbledore finally asked too much of him. "I don't know. That's why I wanted to see. What if the stairwells are different? What if you use different classrooms?"

"Shouldn't you be asking that horrible shrew of a woman these questions? She's acting as your mentor, isn't she?"

Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I just thought while I'm here, I could use someone to talk to."

Snape slammed the book shut, stood up, and moved to the other corner of the room.

Harry sighed in exasperation. This was going to be even harder than he thought, especially since all he wanted to do was clobber Snape in the face. Apparently, even forgiving him for how he was treated at Hogwarts wasn't enough to make him want to be friends with him. This Snape was even more awful than the Snape he knew from school.

As he watched Dumbledore call the staff to order, Harry couldn't help but think about how lonely Snape must be. He’d abandoned Voldemort's followers, and the only person he had ever counted a friend was dead. Harry wasn't sure about Snape's parents, but he knew that they weren't incredibly supportive, especially his father.

He hated feeling sorry for Snape. Snape would hate the fact that he felt sorry for him, too. Why couldn't he have been sent back to his parents’ school days? He could have joined the Marauders.

That thought brought up another thought. Could he change the past? Could he hunt down the Horcruxes and ensure that Voldemort could never become more than a shadow of a man?

Then again, one of the Horcruxes was in baby Harry. There was no way he would kill Harry. That would never work.

His attention was snapped back to Dumbledore when he heard his name.

"—Harry Hitchens, schooled in India, has come back to England and expressed interest in teaching at Hogwarts. Professor Lydia Charbonneau will continue teaching third years and up, but Harry will try his hand at working with our youngest groups. I think it will be a very successful partnership."

Harry glanced at the woman Dumbledore was gesturing at. The only word he could find to describe her was “eccentric.” She looked like Trelawney's older sister. Her robes were covered in layers of scarves, which appeared to be around her neck, arms, and head. She had dark skin and gray hair that flew out in all directions. She wore several rabbit’s foot necklaces. When she caught Harry staring at her, she chuckled and waved.

"On that note, we need to assign detention duty."

The staff groaned. Dumbledore held a hand up to silence them. "I know none of you want to wander the castle at all hours of the night in search of misbehaving students. I promise you that the night we have no rule breakers, I will no longer require you to patrol the halls."

"Since we have a new professor, shouldn't he have to patrol the hallway at least three times a week?" Flitwick's squeak came from across the room.

The entire room laughed. "Perhaps not at that frequency, but I agree he should start patrolling the castle. Since Severus is currently patrolling alone, why don't they pair up and Severus can show Harry how to properly discipline a student?"

Harry dared to cast a glance at Snape, who was completely unresponsive. The rest of the staff snickered. McGonagall shot Harry a sympathetic look.

"I don't mind. I caused so much trouble at my last school, I imagine I'm due for some grief."

Everyone roared with laughter. "Well, that's settled! Look how Harry is already fitting in!"

With his ears feeling hot, Harry wished that Dumbledore hadn't mentioned that fact. He had noticed it as well, how he already seemed more like a member of the staff than Snape, and it had been less than a day since he arrived.

Harry briefly heard Dumbledore discussing several problem students in the upper grades, Pomfrey mentioned an outbreak of dragon pox, and something about a new method of owl post. He was far too lost in thought to listen to the meeting.

He kept looking over at Snape. He didn't seem to be listening, but occasionally huffed when Dumbledore said something he didn't approve of. Not surprisingly, he huffed a lot.

The book seemed to fascinate him. Every once in a while, he would mark a line or two and scribble something in the margins. Much as he did in his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

Harry was already dreading that night's detention sweeps with Snape. He had seemed adamant about not showing Harry the castle. Now, he was being forced to do that exact thing.

When he saw the other staff members stand up and resume their talking, he decided not to bother Snape, and instead introduce himself to Lydia. He was just as nervous talking to her as he was spending time with Snape.

Before he could even stand up, a finger tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and realized it was Lydia.

She spoke in an even French accent. "Harry Hitchens?"

Harry nodded.

"I am Lydia Charbonneau. I took this job as a favor to Dumbledore."

Harry grinned at Lydia. "I'm Harry Hitchens. It's nice to finally meet you."

Lydia didn't seem impressed. "I hate children. Dumbledore desperately needed someone to fill in for the Defense job, and no one else seemed to want it. Some students say it's cursed, but I think Defense is just a difficult position to hold. Professor Merrythought was quite adept at teaching her students."

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore told me that he wanted me to cover your first and second year classes. Is that correct?"

Lydia passed him a huge pile of notes. "That it is, Hitchens. I don't like children, and anyone who isn't a teenager is snotty, both in attitude and in the amount of mucous they produce. If you are truly interested in taking over my job next year, you need to prove you can teach that age group."

Harry shrugged. The younger students weren't filled with raging hormones yet, so he figured that would be a good thing. "I can handle that, I suppose."

"Good. First year students pair up in houses. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in one class, and Gryffindors and Slytherins in the other. They meet three times a week for an hour. Second year classes have split Houses and meet for one hour once a week for notes, and a one hour practical session. Typically, I use it for more note-taking. Those children are positively horrid at taking notes."

"That seems easy enough."

"Don't count your blessings quite yet, Hitchens. I have my lessons planned through the end of the year. Read over them, so you know what you're getting into."

"I don't think that will be too much of a problem."

"I do hope you're right. I regretted my decision to take this job the moment I accepted it from Dumbledore."

"Lydia, if you don't mind my asking, why did you accept this position?"

Lydia adjusted the bangles on her wrist. "I was an Auror for thirty years. Albus helped me out in a tight spot when I performed some questionable magic when a group of criminals were detained. I owe Albus my career."

Harry nodded. It made sense. Lydia reminded him a bit of Moody. She seemed over alert, and not at all interested in working with children.

"Well, Hitchens, I hope you find what you're looking for here. I sure as hell didn't."

Harry chuckled. "I hope so, too."

Perhaps he could find a way home, as well.

**

Harry gulped. It was his first class ever. Lydia had warned him about the second year Gryffindors. There were eight of them, a relatively small class, but included a group of pranksters.

He wondered what 1982 Gryffindors looked like. Were they better behaved? He knew they stopped allowing physical abuse as a form of punishment at some time during his parents’ time at Hogwarts. Perhaps since they knew they couldn't be beaten anymore, they acted up.

Lydia had fairly extensive lesson plans written out for the entire year, which made Harry feel immensely lucky. Planning had been a skill he severely lacked. All he had to do was follow the plans Lydia wrote out and he would guarantee that his students learned.

It seemed fairly simple. Despite the fact that his second year had been an entire waste of time, he knew that first years got a very wide range of introductory topics, and second years were supposed to learn about specific hexes and blocking basic curses.

He watched as the group of Gryffindors slowly stepped inside. There were five boys and three girls, reminiscent of his own class. They took seats and stared at him curiously.

A flash of red hair caused Harry to do a double-take. It wasn't the cool, long-haired man he knew, but Harry could recognize him anywhere. Bill Weasley was in his first class.

Bill sat next to one of the girls and they pulled out their notebooks. He tickled her with his quill and she giggled.

The grouping of the rest of the students was interesting. Two boys and a girl sat together, smearing ink on each other's parchment; two other boys sat next to each other; and the other girl sat by herself, her quill behind her ear.

"Good morning." Harry smiled at the class. "I am Professor Hitchens and I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor for the rest of the year."

"What happened to Professor Char-bone-OH?"

"Yeah, her accent was funny."

Harry took in a deep breath and looked at the boy and the girl, who were giggling. "You should really raise your hands when you need to ask a question. Professor Charbonneau will be working with third through seventh years. I am an old friend of the headmaster and expressed my interest in teaching this course. Professor Charbonneau offered to have me assist her with her classes."

The girl who called Lydia's accent "funny" raised her hand with an innocent expression on her face. Harry called on her.

"I'm Emma Dawlish. You look too young to be a good professor."

Harry was dumbfounded. Was this really what he was like when he was their age? He couldn't remember ever showing that much disrespect for a professor other than Snape, and Snape always goaded him into retaliating.

He decided to answer it in the simplest way possible. "The headmaster disagrees. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with him."

Emma Dawlish and her two male friends seemed satisfied with that answer.

"Now, Professor Charbonneau tells me that you have been practicing Disarming. Is that true?"

Emma spoke up again without raising her hand. "She usually spends most of class telling us to pay attention."

The boy sitting next to her called out. "She's usually right. I have no idea what we're supposed to be learning."

Harry winced. This did not seem to be going well. Harry eyed the boy next to Emma. He had dark hair and blue eyes. "What is your name?"

"Zachary Melborne."

"Well, Zachary, with me, how about you actually listen and then do the work?"

Zachary seemed to think about this for a moment. "You mean pay attention in school?"

Harry shrugged. "Is that a difficult concept for you to understand?"

The third boy, who had remained silent during this entire exchange, spoke up. "Are you as boring as Professor Charbonneau?"

Again, Harry was rendered speechless. He thought about how he might respond if Dudley had asked him that question. "I have never had a class with Professor Charbonneau, so you'll have to tell me if I am."

That answer caused gleeful smiles on the trio's faces.

"Now that you are done asking me ridiculous questions, why don't we start the lesson?"

He looked through Lydia's lesson plans. "I'd like you to take out a roll of parchment and write everything you know about Disarming."

"What if we don't know anything?" Zachary yelled.

"Take a guess." Harry was already growing impatient with the trio of Gryffindors. He hoped there wasn't a group like this in every class.

The eight students pulled out parchment and quills and began writing. Harry noted that the girl sitting alone wrote quickly, pausing only to practice the wand movement for Expelliarmus.

"I don't know what to write." Zachary's voice was whiny and he stretched his arms above his head.

"If he doesn't have to write anything, I shouldn't either." Emma put her quill down and crossed her arms.

Harry sighed in frustration. How could he possibly get these students to behave? "Make something up."

He sat down and studied Lydia's notes. Maybe there was something in there that would help him understand how to deal with defiant students.

Snape was a terrible git, but he had full control of his class. As he recalled, so did McGonagall. What did they do that was different?

They were strict, Harry decided. They made it clear that students were to take the class seriously, and if they didn't, they would have to pay the consequences.

Harry wasn't like them, though. He wasn't strict. He enjoyed the subject and hoped that others would enjoy it, too.

He thought about Professor Flitwick. Flitwick was passionate about Charms and, in turn, it made Harry want to learn them. Sure, he sometimes failed the first few times, but the look of excitement on Flitwick's face when any of his students mastered a charm was more than enough for him to keep going.

"Put your quills down. Zachary, would you mind if I use you as part of a demonstration?"

Zachary stood up, the cool expression on his face suddenly replaced with fear.

"No worries, Mister Melbourne. I will make sure the wall is padded. Now, stand by the entrance to the classroom."

The other seven students watched, completely silent. Bill Weasley stared at Zachary, his mouth slightly open.

"I am going to Disarm you from across the room. Zachary, do try to hold onto your wand."
Zachary gripped his wand, looking terrified.

"Expelliarmus!"

Zachary flew backwards and his wand burst out of his hand; Harry caught it easily.
The entire class stood up and clapped. Even Zachary grinned, though his face was red with embarrassment.

"That is what an effective Disarming spell can do to you. A lot of people who duel say that you need advanced spells to duel, but in my experience in dueling, Disarming is the most effective. If you become fast enough at it, you don't need to know any other spells. Of course, that isn't to say that a strong Shield Charm would never come in handy.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts is not about hurting people. It is learning about what can harm you, and how to protect yourself. I can teach you about the dangers of the world, and equip you with the tools to keep you and your loved ones safe, if you let me."

Harry looked around. The students were no longer passing notes or snickering. They were hanging on his every word.

Was this what McGonagall felt? Was this respect?

"I would like for you to take out your textbook and read pages twenty-three through thirty. When you finish, you should start a seven-inch essay about how Disarming can be useful in and out of dueling."

The students sat down and immediately took out their textbooks. Apparently, the hands-on example was effective enough to get the second year Gryffindors to take their work seriously.

Harry walked around the class as they read. He occasionally asked them their names and if they had questions about what they were reading. Emma, Zachary, and Ryan kept him at their table the longest, asking about how to improve their wand work.

At the end of class, he clapped his hands together. "Your homework is to finish the essay. It is due next class."

He watched as they walked out of the classroom, bursting with excitement to tell other students about the class they just experienced.

After checking the time and realizing he didn't have another class until that afternoon, Harry decided to pay a visit to the staff lounge and do some reading for his first year class. It seemed as though first year was primarily an introductory class and wouldn't be too difficult to find hands-on lessons for.

Hermione would be so proud of him. He was electing to do reading in his free time.

**

To his surprise, Snape was also sitting in the staff lounge. He was sitting at a table, his books piled high on top of each other. He was furiously scribbling onto a piece of parchment, his face dangerously close to the wet ink.

When Harry closed the door to the lounge, Snape jumped like a cat who had just been doused with water.

"Sorry." Harry winced and walked over to him.

Snape rolled his eyes and ignored Harry. Trying to follow Dumbledore's instructions, he decided to try and start a conversation.

"What are you working on? I imagine we will both have a lot of free time since we don't teach too many classes."

Snape had no response except for the sound of the quill on parchment.

"I just had my first lesson. It was scarier than I thought. Are the students all like that?"

Again, there was no response. Harry pursed his lips. "I think if I keep them motivated, they will be more likely to listen to me and respect me."

Finally, Snape spoke. "That's a foolish belief."

Of course. The first thing Snape would say to him in a conversation would be an insult. "I don't think so. I remember that I was motivated by professors who wanted me to succeed and showed me the results if I did. If I want the same results, I should do what they did."

Snape put his quill down and sat up, facing Harry for the first time since he pulled him off of the dungeon floor. "Don't walk around flaunting your skills in teaching just yet, Potter. You taught one successful class. Who cares?"

Harry huffed. "I do. Do you think when I woke up two days ago, I expected to teach a class of students today?"

Snape responded in a dry tone, "We can't always do what we want."

Harry peered over at the parchment in front of Snape. It was an application to become a Potions Master. Of course. Snape was essentially forced into teaching. He had probably wanted to do research or study potions instead of teach. He had been stuck teaching for over a year.

"I'm sorry."

Those clearly weren't the words Snape expected to hear. "What? You're sorry?"

"You can't do potions research, can you?"

Snape's face darkened. He covered the parchment with his arms. "That isn't any of your business, Potter."

"Hitchens."

"I find it easier to tell you to sod off when I call you by your real name."

"My real name is Harry."

Snape stood up, knocking his chair over. Without bringing his parchment or books, he turned and walked out of the teachers’ lounge.

Harry sighed. Couldn't Dumbledore ask him to befriend a different lonely person? "Perfect. Bloody perfect."

He plopped into a cushiony chair and opened a book titled Teaching for the Hopeless, by Gilbert Schultz. Once he got started reading, it became easy for him to flip through the pages. It was quite interesting. He was excited to try some of the new management techniques the book suggested. As he read through it, he recognized some of the methods his own professors used. The one thing he wanted to focus on was keeping his students motivated. It was already apparent that this would be a difficult task, after just one class.

Before he knew it, several hours had passed. Snape walked through the door again and pulled a disgruntled face when he saw Harry.

Harry put the book down and forced a smile. "Hey, I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

Snape's voice was barely above a whisper. "You don't need to apologize for anything."

Since he didn't hear venom in Snape's voice, Harry tried again. "I do. I have no right to ask you about anything personal."

"You seem to know enough about me to write a book."

Harry snorted. "Does that bother you?"

Snape gathered himself, standing up straighter. "Do you think I like the idea that James Potter's son knows about my future? You know me, or at least the man I will become. You know my darkest secret, and used it to your advantage within twenty minutes of meeting me."

Harry sat down at the table next to Snape. What could he say that would convince Snape he wasn't a threat? "I'm sorry you feel like I wrongfully used that information. I promise I will never share that with anyone else. Frankly, I'm lonely, and it's only my third day here."

Snape continued gathering his things and didn't respond for quite some time. Finally, he spoke. "Haven't you already made friends with half the staff?"

"Right, because I want to spend all my time with a group of people at least thirty years older than me."

"Some of them aren't."

"The ones who aren't I've already pegged as rumor-spreaders. Sinistra already told me about Vector's affair."

For a moment, it looked as though a smile slipped across Snape's face. As quickly as it came, it was gone. "Was I your Potions professor?"

Harry nodded.

"I imagine I wasn't easy on you."

"You weren't. I hated you, and you hated me."

"Yet, you would rather spend your time talking with me than the other professors. I find that hard to believe."

He couldn't speak. Not just yet. He looked up from the table, and found Snape staring intently at him. He looked so different, yet incredibly the same as the Snape he had known in his time. They had the same pained expressions and the same eyes that reminded Harry of tunnels, yet this Snape wasn’t affected by age yet. Any lines on his face were years away from happening, and his hair was still completely black.

Harry reached out for Snape's shoulder; he quickly jerked away, standing up from his chair. Harry sighed and then spoke. "How could I hate someone who tried to save my family?"

Snape didn’t answer. He finished gathering his things, maintaining an unreadable expression on his face. Without any other words, he turned and left the staff room.

Harry let out a long breath. They’d had a civil conversation. True, it hadn't been pleasant, but Snape hadn’t insulted him. Perhaps there was hope that they could become civil towards each other on a regular basis.

He should have known that was too much to ask.

**

Sitting for dinner at the staff table was a far different experience than being at one of the House tables. Sitting at the front of the room meant you had a full view of what the students were doing. He was shocked at how aware the entire staff must have been of everything Harry had ever done at the Gryffindor table. He watched as students passed potions to each other under the table, along with copied pieces of homework, love letters, and what appeared to be a bottle of Firewhisky.

He turned to McGonagall. "Shouldn't we correct their behaviors?"

She shook her head. "Goodness, no. We'll catch them later. We always do."

Sinistra leaned forward on the other side of McGonagall. "Plus, it's better to catch them in the act of breaking rules."

"I guarantee you that we will be enjoying that bottle of Firewhisky this weekend." McGonagall winked at Harry and took a bite of potatoes.

Flitwick chuckled on Harry's other side. "My dear boy, if we called every student out for every little thing, we would stifle their creativity. As I tell my Ravenclaws, sometimes you can bend the rules for the purpose of academic progress."

Slughorn leaned in and spoke in a lowered voice. "Just don't get caught."

The members of the staff table laughed. Snape, who was sitting on the end, did not appear to be amused at all. With a huff, he stood up and walked out of the Great Hall.

Harry wasn't as entertained as the rest of the staff, either. If the other professors knew about all of the foolish things he had done, had they put him in more danger than necessary? Was that how Snape knew that Harry had his old Potions textbook?

Sinistra passed him a slice of ham. "Harry, you've got to try this."

Harry took a bite. He really had missed eating as well as he did when he was at Hogwarts. Usually, he ordered off a takeaway menu. The lady who answered phones at New Surma Tandoori knew him by name and had his orders memorized. Occasionally, he would go to the Weasley house for dinner, but that usually made things awkward between him and Ginny, and Molly would try and set him up with eligible men.

That reminded him that three days had already passed and he hadn't even had time for a wank, let alone time to sneak away to the Hog's Head and find a bloke.

The next two nights, he had to patrol the corridors with Snape. That meant that the night after, Saturday night, he could have an evening to himself.

Lydia had given him stacks of exam papers to mark. Apparently, even though he had taken over the first and second years, she still expected him to do her busywork for years three through seven.

It wasn't as though it was a terrible burden. It kept his mind off the fact that he might never be able to get home, along with the fact that Snape was near impossible to talk to. Dumbledore had pulled him aside earlier that afternoon and asked—his eyes twinkling, of course—if he had been able to befriend Snape yet. Harry had responded that Snape was just about as easy to talk to as he had been when Harry was a student.

He finished his dinner and rose from the table. It wouldn't hurt to start patrolling the hallways early.

**

Harry wandered along the corridors. As Snape had rather unpleasantly pointed out, things at Hogwarts really hadn't changed. The portraits were mostly in the same places. The trick staircase was actually the fourth one from the top instead of the third, but that made it quick to learn after his first encounter with it.

Some of the corridors had clearly been renovated when he was a student, but Harry appreciated the musty old hallways.

After walking up to the Astronomy tower in search of a couple in a romantic tryst, Harry heard footsteps coming up the spiral staircase. He took out his wand and waited for them to draw closer.

Just as he saw a shadow, Harry popped out.

Both of them yelped. Harry's wand was lifted from his hands and he found himself pinned to a wall and staring into Snape's eyes.

"Do you like tackling me?" Harry tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice but doubted he was successful.

Snape released him and handed back his wand. "I get a certain degree of gratification in seeing you piss yourself, yes."

Harry straightened his robes. "I thought I might catch students up here in the Astronomy tower."

"Was that where you lost your delicate flower?" Snape's voice was mocking.

Harry made a face. "If you must know, I lost my virginity in the right-hand stall in the Three Broomsticks."

Without missing a beat, Snape kept a straight face. "Apparently, Harry Potter isn't as proper as his father."

"I was never a bully, either."

Snape made a growling sound but didn't answer.

"What?"

"You pity me."

Harry was silent. Perhaps he did pity Snape a bit, but what was wrong with that?

"I don't want your pity. You can keep your foolish Gryffindor notions about friendship and loyalty."

"How did you know I was in Gryffindor?"

Snape barked a laugh. "Please. Every square inch of you is completely Gryffindor."

"The Sorting Hat didn't know where to put me." Harry decided that since he knew all of Snape's secrets, perhaps he could share some of his.

"The Sorting Hat isn't as intelligent as it presents itself to be, then."

"Dumbledore once said to me that the Sorting Hat sorts too soon."

Snape's face clouded over again. "The Sorting Hat knows what we think, how we feel. It can't predict the things that we do, but it can tell you the man you will become."

Without realizing it, Harry had walked all the way down the spiral staircase with Snape. They looked around. Harry finally spoke up. "I know you don't want to, but would it really be all that bad if we patrolled the corridors together? I'm sure you could help me learn how to properly punish students out of bed."

"If you feel it's extremely necessary. Do not talk."

Harry followed Snape all the way to the dungeons, then up a spiral staircase on the west end of the castle. They caught a seventh year couple snogging behind a tapestry and a small group of Ravenclaw second years who had tried to sneak into the library. All in all, it seemed to be a rather uneventful night.

It was awkward, following someone with the speed of a gazelle and not talking at all. Snape had taken the lead with the students caught out of bed. Harry noticed that the seventh year students in particular had very little respect for Snape. He imagined it was because they knew him from when he was a student. A Slytherin up to his nose in the Dark Arts and bullied by the most popular students in school probably wouldn't carry much respect around Hogwarts.

Once their late night shift had ended, Harry yawned. It was nearly three in the morning and he desperately wanted to sleep.

He looked down to adjust his robes. "Would you like to come to my quarters for a cup of tea?"

When he didn't hear an answer, he looked around. Snape had already left.

**

The next day went very much the same way. Harry taught a class, observed in Flitwick's room, did some light reading, and patrolled the corridors with Snape.

He was relieved that he got to sleep in the next morning. He didn't have any classes on Saturday.

He and Dumbledore had made plans to do some research on time travel. Harry had already collected several books on the matter in the Restricted Section in the library, and Dumbledore had pulled several tomes out from his personal collection. Perhaps with some research, he could find a way to get home.

Yet, after several days in here at Hogwarts, he already felt as though he had a purpose again. Being Hermione's test subject was occasionally fun, but mostly required some amount of pain on his part. Students would greet him in the hallway and ask him about a lesson. The prankster trio of Gryffindor second year students ran around proclaiming to anyone who listened to them that Harry had used Zachary in a real life simulation.

Harry finally got out of bed and got himself ready for the day. He couldn't wait till that night, when he could see what gay blokes in the 1980s were like.

He met Dumbledore in the headmaster's office. They went right to work.

After hours of reading through theorizing and details on Time-Turners, Harry was ready to give up. He turned to Dumbledore, who gave him a knowing smile.

"I'm surprised you managed to make it through that many books, Harry."

Harry grinned. "I have some experience doing research, sir."

"Something tells me these tomes won't give us what we need."

"Do you know of any other books that might help give us answers?"

Dumbledore shuffled through his pile of books and showed Harry a list of references. "It looks as though we may want to consult some Muggle research, as well."

Harry looked at the first title, The History of Time Travel. It looked promising. "Where can we find books like these?"

"I imagine a public library. Perhaps you might want to take Severus with you into London?"

Harry's face darkened. "He doesn't want anything to do with me, sir. I'm not sure what else I can do."

"Has he opened up at all since your first encounter?"

"Enough to tell me to sod off."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Harry, do remember that for Severus, any verbal interactions are both rare and special."

Harry sighed. "I suppose."

Dumbledore clasped his hands together. "Now then, it is a beautiful fall day. I can't imagine you would want to spend all your time in my office when you plan on going out tonight."

Harry didn't bother giving Dumbledore an inquisitive look. Nothing would ever slip by that man. He thanked Dumbledore, gathered his notes, and headed back to his quarters.
He had a night to get ready for.

***