Chapter 4

Severus Snape wasn't ready for the first days of classes. Every year he would usually return to the school two weeks before the beginning or the term to prepare for classes and stock the laboratory. When he eventually discovered his notes, they felt seven years too old. A few weeks ago he was headmaster of the school, trying to serve and subvert the Dark Lord simultaneously with controlling the Carrows and the school in general. Now he was back to his old job, long before the return of Voldemort.

If the fifth year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws noticed his jagged speech or the way he wandered absently around the room, they gave no reaction. The next class was better and a few days later, Severus felt relatively confident that he could handle a classroom full of first year Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Of course, having to teach an eleven year old Harry Potter with his dead mother hovering behind his desk wasn't going to help.

Severus strode into the room, staring down every child that dared to look at him. It was important that he set a standard for himself as strict and unyielding. He wasn't going to let these students think he didn't see every fatal mistake they could make. If that meant he had a reputation of being 'mean' or 'unfair', he would accept that. The students could find their 'fun' professors elsewhere, but Severus had a job to do.

He stood in front of the classroom, the attendance sheet limp in his hand. As he surveyed the class, he knew everyone of their names. He knew many of their parents, particularly the Slytherins'. He knew which student's parents would die in the oncoming war and he knew which students would also perish. Severus looked down at his notes. Of course, he didn't know exactly who all died. He, himself, had died part-way through the battle of Hogwarts.

Staring at their names, Severus couldn't bring himself to look up again. They were all so young and he felt incredibly old. He was war-weary, despite having a seven-year younger body. A body that had seen hard days, but had been healing for ten years. It didn't have the scars that he would soon become familiar with. His back didn't have the endless ache of kneeling before the Dark Lord. It would see hard days again and Severus didn't know if he could handle the stress and torture a second time.

"Severus?" It was Lily's voice, soft and concerned. He didn't look behind himself to her image, only visible to him. Instead he looked up at the class, who fidgeted at his lapse.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he started, then began to pace the room. The speech was written not ten days after Dumbledore graced him with the job. It had taken him ten days to realize that wizarding youth were far more dangerous with a pewter cauldron than any wizarding mad man. It was a comfort to say the words, a habit from a better time. He had not recited the speech this past year, having been appointed as Headmaster. But being head of the school was hardly a promotion, only another part of the plan.

However teaching dunderheaded students how to brew cures and poisons was simple, better. Severus would almost say he was happy, if he could truly be happy that is. Idiots might make mistakes, cauldrons melt, and someone burns the skin off their arms. But it was innocent and harmless, really. A trip to the infirmary and a detention later and the classroom knew no difference. No one died, no was blackmailed or threatened, and they all came back the next class period with scrolls of half-arsed essays tucked in their sacks.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death..." He paused, his eyes glazing over Harry Potter, the infamous scar barely visible in the soft glow of the dungeons. "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." He grinned, anticipating the first-year pop quiz. He always gave it to some unsuspecting whelp who could cause trouble in the classroom. It was a way to set them straight before the term even started.

He nearly smirked, staring down his nose at the famous Potter. The boy was already looking a little glassy-eyed, obviously not paying attention. Also taking in the same slouched posture that James Potter always exhibited, lazy and bored. Severus found the perfect victim. The words were on his lips, biting and cruel. He would show just how incompetent this young Potter was. Something like pleasure twisted in his stomach.

But a shadow caught his eye. He didn't have to look to know it was Lily. She was walking around the room now, glancing at the preserves on the walls and the ingredients in the cabinet. She had no idea what he was about to do to her son. And Severus knew he wouldn't do it. Even though his throat screamed to chew out Potter, he could not verbally harm him while his mother stood in that very room. Severus closed his eyes, resisting the urge to snarl.

"Longbottom!" he barked, with a little too much violence. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

The pudgy boy sputtered and toppled his ink bottle. Granger's hand immediately flew into the air and Severus steadfastly ignored her. He was trying to ignore everything from Potter, to Lily, to even Finnegan trying to clean up the spilled ink. "Uh, I don't know... sir." Longbottom had lost most of the color in his face and was breathing rapidly.

Severus sneered. "Perhaps the real question will become 'what do you know?'" He whirled around, throwing the next question to Lavender Brown. He only changed victims because Neville Longbottom looked ready to pass out and Severus didn't want a trip to the infirmary so early in the period.

After that his natural rhythm came back to him and Severus was able to guide the class into starting their simple potion: Cure for Boils. Of course, it entirely slipped his mind that Longbottom would manage to botch it up and melt his cauldron. Severus wasn't even sure how the boy could be so destructive with such harmless ingredients. However it gave Severus a certain amount of satisfaction to reprimand Longbottom. He had to admit to himself that it was probably because he hadn't been able to say a word to Potter. His usual habit had to constantly be suppressed and he hadn't realized how unnerved it was making him feel.

With Longbottom taken to the infirmary, Severus dismissed the class. The potion had been cleared, but the cauldron and workbench needed serious repair. Severus took in the twisted lump of metal and wondered if the boy even deserved to make potions again.

"I'd forgotten how exciting first-years could be." Lily walked next to him, also examining the once-pewter cauldron.

He grunted. "Hardly exciting, more dangerous and annoying." He waved his wand, trying the twist the metal back into its proper shape.

She watched him for a moment as he struggled to return the cauldron to the way it was. Potions had certain effects that even a reparo couldn't easily fix. "I saw what you did today," she murmured.

He frowned, not looking at her. "What do you mean?"

"The way you treated Harry..." She trailed off and Severus felt his stomach sinking.

"Was it wrong?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as insecure as he felt. "I was only being professional."

Lily stepped in front of him so that he was forced to look at her. "Severus, I understand what you were trying to do. But ignoring him isn't going to help us."

He hated the way her green eyes could look at him with such disappointment. "I was only trying to not-" He stopped himself, but he knew she would know what he meant.

"I know, you were trying to not yell at him, demean him, make him feel sorry for being James' son, etc..." She didn't look angry.

He swallowed thickly. "I... I apolo-"

"No, don't apologize." She waved her hand. "I want to make something clear, right now, okay? I don't want to be misunderstood in why I'm here." She looked determined and Severus felt even a little more uneasy. "I'm not here to tell you want to do. You don't have to listen to me and you don't have to please me. I'm here because you want me to be here. I give you guidance because you wish for it." She sighed, smiling slightly. "If you want to do something, then do it. If you want to yell at Harry, then yell at him."

Severus wasn't sure what he was hearing. "But I can't with you-"

Again she cut him off. "No, you can. I'm dead, Severus. You don't have to do anything for me." She reached out, putting her hands on his shoulders; weightless, but still somehow warm. "The only way anything will work is if you wish it to work. I'm glad for your effort today, I really am. But to save Harry, you have to want to save Harry. Ignoring him won't help. At least yelling at him is a form of contact."

Severus felt a little off balance. "You want me to yell at him?"

She snorted. "No, I would like it if you didn't. But I'm not going to tell you to be nice to him when you obviously aren't ready for it." She sighed and stepped back and Severus felt himself breathe a little deeper. "There are many things I wish for. But it's not your job to grant them, Severus. My time has passed, but you have been given a second chance. Do with it what you wish. I have told you my hopes, but that is all they are. I do not have the power to force you to do anything. In fact, we would both only fail if you ever felt forced against your will."

Severus sat on one of the stools, staring at the newly made cauldron. The surface was a bit uneven, but it was the best he could manage. "This is about... being able to change the future, isn't it?"

Lily sat on the desk next to him. "Yes, in a way. A heart's decision cannot be changed by force. The future may seem to change, but it is only the same events happening in different ways."