Chapter Two

II

Severus Snape did not like looking at the boy with the shockingly red mop of hair. He had the kind of eyes you avoided meeting in a gaze if you can. The kind of eyes that drew you in their unmeasurable depths and dragged you under. And Severus did not like seeing those eyes staring back at him from the face of his friends' son.

The son whose body he himself had seen lying in the hallway, or what had been left of it.

But this was unmistakeably Ronald Weasley, the face the same underneath the scars and dirt. The nose, lopsided and crooked as if it had been broken one time too many, was the same. The mouth, the ears, the freckles-

This was Ronald Billius Weasley, no imposter could ever look so alike. So alive. So real.

(no ghost could look so sad, so downtrodden. The dead should not look like survivors of some sort of guerrilla war, not like this.)

"So you are from the future," Minerva McGonagall asked flatly from her perch on the comfortable armchair she configured for herself. Her wand was held lazily in her lap, knuckles white from the tight grip she held it with.

"And most likely a parallel dimension, an alternate universe if you wish." Hermione explained. "That much is obvious from-" she gestured weakly at Sirius Black and Severus Snape before shrugging. "They weren't like this in our time- or universe."

"And why should we believe you?" Sirius barked a laugh as his eyes met the girl's with disdain, "your story has a lot of holes. It is a bit too fortunate, isn't it? Time-travel, alternate dimensions. What's next, you are secretly also Merlin's heirs and have found Ravenclaw's diadem?"

"We did find the diadem," Luna said dreamily, "it really was very pretty. I really wish I could have worn it."

"You were a Gryffindor where we came from." Neville began slowly as he dragged his gaze from the window and met Sirius' eyes. "And Harry's godfather. You were in Azkaban but broke out, your animagus form is that of a dog. You were disowned from your family and lived with James Potter for a while. You were mad, brilliant but mad. Your death started the war."

"And you," Neville turned his thoughtful gaze to Snape, "you were a Slytherin. A genius with potions, your greatest love was Lily Evans. You had the most dangerous job within-"

Neville paused, looking at Dumbledore. "Can all of them be trusted?"

At Albus' nod he continued, "within the Order. You risked your life daily. Voldemort murdered you personally, made you an example of why he should never be crossed. You taught us a lot. But you were a miserable, angry git. Everything you did might have been for the greater good but you bullied children, made lives miserable and hurt a lot of people."

"A true bat of the dungeons," Luna piped up eagerly, beaming at Severus.

"A bloody arsehole, most likely." Came Ron's grumbled reply.

McGonagall shot them a confused look. "Sirius Black friends with James Potter? I think you are mistaking him for Severus, Sirius and James never got along. James was, still is actually, a bit too rambunctious for Sirius' taste. It was Severus who went and lived with him during the summers between fifth and seventh years. He was even the best man at James' and Lily's wedding."

Ron chocked out a laugh at that, a hoarse sound that felt out of place coming from the boy Minerva remembered Ron being. The boy this teenager of the cusp of manhood claimed to be.

He stilled after a few seconds, laughs dying out as morphed into a more solemn expression once again. "Is Harry Potter your chosen one? The boy you think your prophecy spoke of? And are his parents alive?"

"Yes to all of that," Albus answered grimly, "he survived the killing curse Voldemort aimed at him. His parents were away that night, the Order member meant to protect him that night died."

"The Order member was Peter Pettigrew, wasn't it?" Hermione spoke up grimly, eyes narrowed and nose scrunched up in disgust. "He was the secret keeper, it made sense for him to be the one to protect Harry and the house; that way no one else had to be let in on the secret. It also provided Voldemort with a perfect opportunity, for there would be no one to interrupt. No variables; go in and go out. Kill the baby, get rid of the loose end and be gone again."

Severus almost seemed to choke on thin air, glancing at the girl in surprise.

The witch let out a loose, airy laugh and threw her head back for a moment; wild mane of curls flying in every direction. "It seems some things never change."

"Are you insinuating that-" Albus started hesitantly though his eyes were cold and unforgiving.

"You know damn well that Pettigrew was a Death Eater," Ron spat, one corner of his mouth curled up in distaste as he waved his wand around angrily.

"But James and Lily are alive?" Hermione mused, eyes darting to Neville and then back to Albus. "What about Frank and Alice Longbottom?"

"They are alive, yes. Why do you ask? Is there any reason for them to be dead?"

The room fell silent for a while, the four time-travellers sending each other heavy looks before Neville spoke up; "Is there anywhere the four of us can stay for a while? We would all like a warm bed and an opportunity to talk this through. This …"

"This is not our past, not our world. You are not our headmaster, not our teachers." Hermione snorted, empty hand reaching up to cover her face as her eyes danced with grim mirth, "but don't worry, we won't hurt anyone here, or destroy anything. You can lock us in if you want to, but remember; we are on your side."

Luna recognized the room they had been given as one of the many rooms they had blasted open, looking for any Death Eaters hiding within. This one had been empty and she liked that, she liked the fact that in here there were no memories to fly around her head with lead wings. That this room could be filled with happy thoughts and be used to make new memories.

So she smiled, hands smoothing out the burgundy comforter laid on the single bed in one of the two bedrooms. She knew Hermione would stay with Neville and that Ron would sleep in here, with her. So she waved her wand and mumbled the spell that slid both beds together with an ever bigger smile.

Ron kept the storfdubblers away.

The painting on the wall was empty, chased away by Hermione's angry spell minutes before. The rooms had been bathed in blue light before the frames surrounding all of the paintings had grown red-hot and their occupants had ran away; not to return.

But before she could fall back down on the bed she knew there was talking to be done. There were things that needed to be discussed, events that needed to be dissected. They needed plans, long and short term. They needed a way out, ways in, backup plans and information and so much more.

(Dumbledore was a fool if he thought he could lock them in, too many wrackspurts infesting his brains and dulling his senses. No ward in Hogwarts could keep them in, but he didn't need to know that.)

So Luna abandoned the bed and its pretty satin sheets; vines of gold climbing up from the corners and entwining gracefully on the burgundy surface. It was almost as if the sheets were beckoning her to burrow underneath them, to smother her with warmth and comfort and pretty golden vines that would draw her into sweet, sweet dreams.

They really were quite pretty, she hadn't noticed that before.

(a pity they burnburnburned when the castle fell.)

"Albus, you can't possibly believe that-"

"It's simply preposterous, Albus, Minerva is right and you need to-"

"A dog? I was a dog? And Potter? And they handed his brat to me? Merlin's balls-"

"Enough!" Albus' voice echoed through his office, startling Fawkes awake and making the portraits on his wall pipe up with annoyance. Some even stalked out of their frames with angry huffs, mumbling insults as they went.

"Severus," the elderly wizard began with a wave of his hand as he beckoned the Ravenclaw head of house to speak.

"The boy can't possibly be anyone but Ronald Weasley, save for the scars they are too alike. He is obviously Molly and Arthur's dead son. I couldn't smell polyjuice on them or-"

"Why, I thought Lupin was our resident werewolf, Severus, I didn't know you shared his exceptional sense of smell," Sirius interjected with a sharp grin that curled up at the edges, smiling a bit too wide.

Minerva huffed angrily, pursing her lips as she shot Sirius an angry glare. "Sirius, that is quite enough!"

Black held up his hands in mock innocence, eyes narrowed in glee before he smoothed that expression over and his donned its usual mask of haughty disdain.

"I am the potions master here, Black, as you'd do well to remember next time you pick up a goblet to drink. I also didn't see them ingest anything that could have been polyjuice and any glamours should have dispersed the moment they entered the office. I can't speak for the Granger or Lovegood girl but I think Ronald Weasley is who he claims to be. The other boy shares Frank and Alice's features but I wasn't as close to them so I couldn't say if his story checks out or not."

With a sigh Severus leant back in his own, pinching the bridge of his nose with tired fingers. He closed his eyes for a second, the beginnings of a headache brewing at the back of his mind. He twisted the gold wedding band on his finger 'round and 'round, eyes blinking tiredly as he followed the bit of precious metal.

"Severus, are you with us still?" Albus queried, effectively drawing Severus from his descent into sleep.

"Ah; I am, my apologies."

"Nevertheless, we have to confirm that the others are who they are before we inform their families. I think the Weasleys and the Longbottoms would very much wish to be informed of their children's- let's say return, before they are the last to find out. Should we breach the news of Xenophilius' and his wife's passing to the Lovegood girl? Her reaction to such news could give her away, or confirm her story as it is." Albus drummed his fingers on his mahogany desk as the cogs in his head turned and turned. Should the children's story prove to be true it could be a great boon for the Order, they could possess information the like Albus could never have dreamt of.

But there were things he'd rather they not know. Things such as-

He waved the thought away, he'd best not linger on such things now. Not when he had more pressing matters.

"Veritaserum," Sirius said matter-of-factly, glancing around the room with thinly veiled disbelief and raised eyebrows. "Come on, am I the only one to have thought of that? If they are so keen on proving their story they won't refuse a chance to do so, we might even weasel out some more secrets while we're at it."

"They are children, Sirius Black! Are you suggesting-" Pomona Sprout spat furiously, lips pressed in a thin line as she rose from her seat slowly; her form mirroring that of an angry bear roused from her sleep.

"If what they told us is true they haven't been children for a long time, Pomona," Sirius stated flatly, eyes never once leaving that of his colleague. "And if that is the case I doubt they'd want to be mollycoddled by well-meaning adults, no matter how much you might want to. They aren't your little badgers, that boy might end up not even being your little Longbottom. You don't see Severus rushing towards the Granger girl now, do you? For all we know the Weasley boy was a Slytherin back from where he came from and is planning to poison us all in our sleep. Or, Merlin forbid, the Lovegood girl actually has a brain."

Sirius' voice trailed off and the room fell into another, uncomfortable, silence as Sirius and Pomona glared at each other. The others were pointedly looking away, all of them lost in their own thoughts.

But it was Albus who once again broke the silence, coughing shortly before he started talking. "Veritaserum should stay an option, we might also want to look into less illegal options. We could always take them to Gringotts to have them tested-"

Pomona glanced away from her and Sirius' little staring contest to frown at Albus. "I doubt that they'd trust us, or the goblins, with their blood. We would have a better chance getting them to sign with a blood quill provided they'd get to burn the parchment themselves afterwards. Perhaps they could even share a memory, you have experience spotting fabricated memories don't you, Albus?"

At Albus' nod she continued, "good. I still don't agree with the Veritaserum but there are other options. I don't give a damn if you say they couldn't possibly be children anymore, because they still are. They can't be anything but victims in this, just look at the rags they were dressed in! Or poor Ronald's face, goodness gracious, does that scream Death Eater to you?"

"Let me tell you that good 'ole Greyback has a pretty disfigured face as well, and would you say he is a victim?" Sirius snorted loudly, "and last I saw Nott, he had lost a good part of his face back in the seventies. Just because the kid got hurt doesn't mean he's a victim, I hadn't thought you to be so naive, Pomona."

"Why you-"

Severus sighed as Minerva interjected herself gracelessly in the discussion, all three growing increasingly agitated by second. He could feel the headache coming back up as if it were a thunderstorm, dark clouds hovering ominously inside his head just waiting to release their hellish fury.

Morning came with a gentle breeze and a red-stained sky. Puffy white clouds floated across the sky as the castle basked in the early-morning rays of sunshine.

But within the castle the atmosphere was tense as the quartet was led to the Great Hall by a stoic Severus Snape. He was walking briskly, arms winging along beside his sides and face drawn in an expression that was neither curious nor bored. He hid his emotions well, the flare of his nostrils and the occasional twitch of his eyebrows the only indicator that he was actually feeling any emotions at all.

It was almost comical how much the two men, for the Severus Snape they'd known was a completely different person, could be so different yet so alike. That much was obvious from just looking at him, Hermione mused. From the way he wore his hair to how he walked and dressed. This was not their Snape, super-spy extraordinaire who had devoted his life to keeping Harry alive. Who had spoken up against Dumbledore and endured Voldemort's presence for their sake.

And she could only hope that this version was as brave, as foolishly selfless and brilliant and good.

He had been their rock for months. Had whisked them from place to place, taught them charms and curses and how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper to death. It was him who coordinated the plan to rescue Luna, who had stepped aside so that Harry could get his revenge for Ginny's broken body.

She shared a glance with Ron, noticed the way his eyes flicked over to Snape and then back to meeting hers.

She just raised her eyebrows, moving one shoulder to give a lazy shrug before smoothing her face back to a mask of perfect blandness.

But Hermione was not stupid enough to disregard what Ron was subtly pointing out to her. He was showing her his weaknesses, eyes caught on the ring on his finger. The ease with which he walked, how his face sometimes smoothed over in thought and his muscles would relax involuntarily.

There was a spouse to threaten, emotions to exploit. He knew his surroundings, thought himself safe amidst them. He knew to guard his back against them but he was tired and his defence had holes in it.

But all those thoughts vanished from her mind when they entered the hall. Instead she straightened her back and forced her occlumency shields up. She tired, weary to the very marrow of her bones. Sleep had eluded her for hours and she hadn't dared to down a pinch of dreamless sleep.

Her hands were twitching as a result of it, her skin itching and her eyes almost feverishly taking in everything there was to see. The bags beneath her eyes were more pronounced than ever and she knew she looked like a hag.

The smile that danced upon her lips was utterly polite as she nodded at the circle of people seated around a round table. It was a girl's smile, the sweet taste of roses followed by the tangy rush of poison. The smile of a dragoness before it burned you alive.

The people that sat around the table were familiar, most of them she knew. Most of them were dead.

She had felt as if she were a spectator to Arthur's death, told by Harry in such a distant, empty voice that it sounded as he were recounting from a textbook. Moody she had watched fight to his death, taking with him a good chunk of the Gryffindor tower as he went. Frank and Alice had eventually succumbed to death when Death Eaters had burned St. Mungo's to the ground.

(Neville didn't even cry, but when they caught Mulciber he was harsher than before.)

James and Lily Potter where the only people seated that she had never seen before, or at least, never seen in the flesh. She had sat with Harry when he gazed at their pictures with mournful eyes, had whispered how proud they would have been of him had they been able tell him so.

But she just kept smiling as her eyes sought out Albus' own but it was Molly Weasley who interrupted her before she could start talking.

"R-Ron?"

I can only hope that this chapter meets your expectations. I also offer my most humble thanks to the two darling people who took the time to review, I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations!

Just a note on the side, some things they speak of have not yet been/will not ever be explained. Information is given bit by bit until (I hope) you have a decent picture of the past Alternate Timeline and the present Alternate Timeline. (aka, the one where canon happened up til a point and the one where they are now). Let it be said that I have had to make a factlist of both Universes just to keep the two seperate in my head and to discern them from canon.