25

Harry sat on the floor of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, absently watching his godson chew on a rubber duck Mr. Weasley had given him, while Andromeda and Ginny sat on the sofa talking about the challenges of raising babies. Harry wasn't really listening, and he suspected that Ginny, who had no interest in having babies before she had had the chance to play on a professional Quidditch team for a few years, was distracting Andromeda for his sake. Even Teddy, whose hair was dramatically changing from blue to green to red, couldn't hold his attention right now.

Hermione had been missing for four days. They had no idea if she was alive or dead, soulless or captured, rotting away in a cell in Azkaban or on trial in front of the Wizengamot or a prisoner of Death Eaters or any of the other thousand horrible things Harry had been envisioning since he'd left her behind.

Ron was barely speaking to him, and Harry didn't blame him. When the alternate reality Snape had told them his plan, Harry had agreed to it, and Ron hadn't, precisely for the reason Harry was tormented by now: they couldn't know if it had worked.

Snape, their Snape, had thought it was the plan most likely to succeed, and Harry knew enough by now to take Snape at his word. If Snape thought it was their best shot, then it probably was.

Ron, of course, disagreed. Not only did he suspect their Snape of having "dishonorable intentions" toward Hermione, but he also suspected the younger Snape of being loyal to the Death Eaters. The idea of leaving Hermione in his hands was outrageous to Ron. And the fact that Snape was the reason Harry, Ron, and Hermione weren't talking to each other hadn't gone unnoticed by him, either.

"He's splitting us apart," Ron had said. "First Hermione took his side, and look where that got her."

But Harry knew full well that it wasn't Snape who had gotten her where she was now. It was him.

It was just like Sirius. Another creepy arch, another tearing loss. Only this time he didn't know if Hermione was really gone, or if she was out there somewhere, alone and afraid, waiting for him to come save her.

No, that wasn't Hermione's way. If she was out there, she was thinking of a way to save herself. But Harry couldn't help remembering the troll, and Malfoy Manor, and a half-dozen other times that Hermione hadn't been able to get out on her own. She was brilliant, their Hermione, but she wasn't cut out to fight alone.

Teddy, waving the slobbery duck in front of his face, changed his hair to honey-brown curls, a frizzy mess that he had taken to copying whenever Hermione was around. Hermione wasn't around now, though, and Harry suspected Teddy had noticed.

"I'm sorry," Harry told him quietly. "It's my fault. I ran off, just like…" Just like your father. But of course he would never say that to Teddy, not even now, when he was too young to understand. Teddy didn't need to know about Lupin's faults, the way Harry had learned about his dad's.

And, after all, who was Harry to judge Lupin now? He had run off, too, hadn't he? Not for the same reasons - not because he was afraid - but still. He had left Teddy just as surely as Tonks and Lupin had. The fact that he had come back didn't really matter. He had spent every moment since then thinking about leaving again.

About going after her.

It was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. He had gotten Hermione into this mess, and he couldn't just abandon her. The only reason Harry hadn't gone back through the gate already was that Snape had dragged him and Ron straight to the Longbottoms' house, where half the Order had already been assembled, then Flooed the Weasleys to join them, before explaining to all of them - the Longbottoms, the Weasleys, McGonagall, Flitwick, even Neville - what Harry and Ron had done.

That was another reason Ron wasn't talking to him. Mrs. Weasley was doing her level best to keep Ron at home, as much as that was possible with a soon-to-be-nineteen-year-old-boy. Considering she was still doing his laundry and cooking his meals, she still had a fair amount of sway.

Harry was stuck here, where other Order members had been taking it in turns to "visit" him. Andromeda, Mr. Weasley, Bill, George, even McGonagall. Some of them, like McGonagall, had taken the opportunity to explain just how very stupid he had been. George, on the other hand, had told him he understood completely, and would've done the same.

Andromeda understood, too, but that didn't mean she wasn't disappointed. Harry suspected she'd volunteered to come so often so she could show him how adorable and important Teddy was - how important the future was.

"They're gone," she'd told him gently. "You can't spend your whole life looking for them."

He wanted to tell her she didn't understand, but he held back. She had lost her daughter, which he knew must be worse, but she didn't understand. She hadn't grown up without parents. She hadn't grown up in a cupboard. Even Teddy, who was an orphan like Harry, would never understand what that had been like (and Harry would kill anyone who ever tried to make him).

Of course Harry knew that seeing his parents in an alternate reality wouldn't change his own childhood. He had hoped, when he'd asked the Guardian to take him to a world where they were alive, that he would get to see them happy, see himself happy, and know that at least it would have been possible.

He had never expected to be taken to a past world, which proved beyond any doubt that it wasn't possible.

Harry could never have been happy. They could never have been happy. None of it was ever possible. Maybe that should have made it easier to let go, but it didn't.

He wanted to make it possible.

Of course he cared about Teddy, and wanted to make a good future for him. But he wanted his parents to have a future, too. He wanted whatever children they could have, be it him or someone else, to have a future. He wanted to be able to change something, to make something right, to get back some tiny bit of hope out of all the people he had lost.

And he wanted Hermione back.

Severus Snape stood in front of the Grangers' house, bracing himself for what was coming.

He had never seen the house before, but it was exactly what he would have pictured: a well-kept, not-quite-modest house that reminded him intensely of the Evans' home he had visited so long ago. The Grangers didn't seem to have the same fondness for flowers that Mrs. Evans had always had, but their frosty grass was neatly trimmed, with an attractive bench under an icy tree where he imagined Miss Granger had spent many thousands of hours reading during the summer months.

Her cat, Crookshanks, sat in one of the windows, watching him. He knew the creature had been living with her parents ever since their return from Australia; by the sounds of it, the cat was holding quite the grudge. In his pocket, Fiend wriggled, poking her head out to stare at the much larger, uglier member of her species before leaning her face forward to give Severus's hand a gentle nip.

Yes, it was cold, and yes, it was cowardly of him to stand there. He gave the kitten an acknowledging pat on the head and strode up the walk to the door. Crookshanks jumped down from the window, and he heard the creature's impressive meows even before Mrs. Granger opened the door.

She seemed to recognize him at once, though they had never met. Perhaps she read the Daily Prophet, or perhaps Miss Granger had merely offered an accurate description of his appearance. Severus knew he had given her plenty of reasons over the years to mention him to her parents, especially after his hideous comment about her teeth. No doubt her dentist parents had noticed the next summer what he had observed in their very next class, the shrunken teeth, solid evidence that words could, in fact, cause harm.

If this woman didn't hate him already, she no doubt would be the end of today's conversation.

"Professor Snape," Mrs. Granger greeted him, not inviting him in.

"Mrs. Granger, I presume?" he replied, though she was obviously Hermione Granger's mother; the teeth alone would have proven it.

"I hope you won't mind if I ask you a question?" she said. "Hermione's very insistent on it, for security."

"Of course." What question could she possibly ask?

"What mark did you assign Hermione on her first essay in fifth year?"

Severus arched his brows, but he remembered well - it was the first assignment to which he had applied O.W.L. marks. "Acceptable."

Mrs. Granger nodded, then fiddled with something on the wall beside the door. Severus felt something fall, a ward he hadn't even sensed. "Your daughter's skill at warding grows more impressive all the time."

Mrs. Granger looked truly surprised. "A compliment? You are Professor Snape, aren't you?"

Severus offered her a tight smile. She would be much less keen to tease him after she knew why he had come.

"Is Hermione all right?" she asked, as he stepped inside. She was watching his face carefully.

"I don't know," he answered bluntly.

He saw the panic flash in her eyes, the despairing prayer of no, not again. He held out his hands in what he hoped was a halfway calming gesture. "Please allow me to explain the situation before you jump to conclusions." Not that the conclusions would be good, but he needed her to stay calm enough for him to at least get it out.

She nodded, her eyes full of tears, and hurriedly showed him into the sitting room. Crookshanks followed at her heels, throwing Severus a chastising look. He was relieved when the cat jumped into Mrs. Granger's lap and allowed her to press him to her chest for comfort. It seemed to return some measure of self-control to her.

"Please," she said, "tell me what's happened."

"Is Mr. Granger -"

"He's not here," she said sharply. "Just tell me."

Severus nodded. Fiend had crawled out of his pocket and into his lap, and he rested a hand on her fur, seeking his own comfort.

"Are you familiar with the research your daughter and I have been conducting?"

"About the gates? The ones in the prison?"

"Correct. Did she explain the nature of the gates? That one of them has the power to transport wizards to other realities?"

Mrs. Granger went pale. "You're not saying that she -"

Severus held up a hand. "Two of Miss Granger's friends -"

"Harry and Ron?"

"Yes," Severus said, with distaste. "They discovered her research, which she had chosen not to share with them for reasons that will become clear shortly -"

"I know the reasons," Mrs. Granger said, with distaste to match Severus's own. "Those boys have been getting her into trouble for years."

Severus had never expected to find a kindred spirit in Miss Granger's mother. With an anger that matched her own, he continued, "As you have no doubt guessed, Potter and Weasley decided to explore the gates for themselves. I believe the idea was Potter's - he wished to find a reality in which his parents had not been killed -"

Mrs. Granger flinched.

"- and, naturally, when your daughter discovered what they had done -"

"She followed them." Mrs. Granger buried her face in one hand. "Good God. When did this happen?"

Severus hesitated. "Four days -"

"Four days?"

"It was our hope that Miss Granger would find a way to return," Severus replied, "or at least to send a message. That has not occurred."

"What do you mean, 'our hope'? And why only her? What about the boys?"

Severus knew an explosion was coming. "Potter and Weasley returned without her."

Mrs. Granger cried out, half in anger, half in fear.

"They brought with them a younger version of myself."

That surprised her enough to halt her outburst. "Of - of you? But - why younger?"

He admired her ability to analyze the situation even in the midst of her distress. "It is Potter's belief that when he asked to be taken to a world in which his parents were still alive, he was taken not only to an alternate reality, but to the past of an alternate reality, because that is the only time in which his parents are alive… in any world."

Mrs. Granger looked horrified. "How far back? Is it - is it during the war? The first war?"

"Yes."

She let out another small cry.

"My younger self," Severus continued quickly, "volunteered to return to his world to protect her -"

"Protect her from what?"

"From the Dementors, first and foremost. From the Ministry, the Death Eaters - I have no way of knowing, at present."

"The Dementors… because it's in the prison." Again, Mrs. Granger was not so panicked that she had lost the use of her reason.

"Yes." Severus hesitated. "I have reason to believe that Miss Granger was not entirely helpless against the Dementors -"

"But she struggles with that spell - the Patronus -"

"She does," Severus agreed. "However… did she ever share with you the essay she wrote in her sixth year, regarding Dementors?"

Mrs. Granger shook her head. "We read over a lot of her homework during the summers, but that was the summer when…"

"When she Obliviated you and sent you to Australia."

Mrs. Granger grimaced, but nodded.

"I assigned the essay," Severus said, "asking the students to present what they believed was the best defense against the Dementors. As usual, your daughter was incapable of restraining herself."

Despite the situation, Mrs. Granger managed a watery smile.

"Among the many defenses she listed were several which I believe she would have been more than capable of using, even in such a dire situation. One in particular impressed me with its originality and, to be frank, flawlessness. It was the only time I ever gave Miss Granger an 'Outstanding' on an essay. Something I think she would have remembered."

Mrs. Granger nodded.

"If Miss Granger was able to retain enough self-possession to use the defense in question, then I think it is highly likely she was still alive when my younger self returned to that world. What is less certain is what happened to them then. Even if they were somehow able to escape the prison - which would have been no small feat - they would have then been incapable of sending a message back to this world, or of returning Miss Granger. Breaking into Azkaban would be quite as difficult as breaking out."

"So she's trapped there."

Severus nodded.

"What - what can I do?" she asked, her voice breaking. "I can never do anything! She's my baby!"

"There is nothing you can do," Severus said. "But I wished to make you aware of the situation now… before I go in search of her."

Mrs. Granger gulped in air as if trying to swallow the hope he had just offered her. "You're going after her?"

"Yes. I needed a few days to make preparations, but I am certain now that I will be ready for the challenges of this other world."

Mrs. Granger stared at him in a way that made him deeply uncomfortable. "She said you were brave."

Severus clenched his jaw. "I promise you I will do everything in my power to return your daughter to you safely."

Mrs. Granger closed her eyes, tears spilling out. "Thank you."

Harry tried to be smarter this time. He really did. He didn't have Hermione's magically extended bag, but he managed to pack a backpack full of food, maps, and both Muggle and Wizarding money. He was just stowing a magical first aid kit in a side pocket when Ginny poked her head into the room.

Unsuccessfully, Harry tried to hide the backpack behind him.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Relax. I already know."

Harry stared at her. "How?"

"Because I know you, Harry." She came into the room, carrying a backpack of her own.

"No," Harry said immediately. "No, Ginny, you can't -"

"And what are you going to do if the Ministry finds out you're unmarried?"

"I'm only eighteen!"

"You don't know how long you'll be there!" Ginny snapped back. "I'm not risking you ending up in a forced marriage to Cho Chang's aunt or something -"

"Ginny," Harry said, frowning at her. "That's not going to happen."

"You're right," she said brightly, setting her backpack down on the bed and pulling out a small box. "It's not. Harry, will you marry me?"

Harry gaped at her, and at the ring in her hand. She rolled her eyes again. "Relax. It's just for show. Put it on, I've got one, too."

Harry glanced nervously at the door. "Andromeda -"

"Is recovering from the Puking Pastille I dissolved in her tea," Ginny said, completely unabashed. "We've probably got about half an hour to get out of here and to the gate. So put on the ring."

Harry hesitated. "Teddy -"

"I called Luna over, she's watching him."

That wasn't entirely reassuring, though Teddy did like Luna. Her giant eyes, especially.

"All right," Harry said, half-panicked, half-resentful, "fine." He shoved the ring onto his finger.

"I'm going to remember that's how you reacted when you ask me one day," Ginny warned, mimicking him in a dramatically sulky voice, "'All right, fine.'" She shoved a matching band around her finger.

"Your mother's not going to let me marry you if we're not careful," Harry said.

"Don't worry, George'll calm her down."

"You told George?"

"'Course. He helped me pack." She patted her backpack.

Harry had to admit, Ginny might be a good companion.

"Don't worry about Mum," she said. "I'd be more worried about Ron if I were you."

Harry flinched. "You don't think we should -"

"No, definitely not," she said. "Anyway, we don't have a wife for him, and he will be nineteen soon."

Harry nodded, feeling traitorous, but it was all too easy to imagine Ron trying to marry Hermione, or something. He knew that wouldn't end well.

"Ready?" Ginny said.

Harry took a deep breath. "Ready."

Sneaking out of Grimmauld Place was absurdly easy, thanks to Ginny. Luna and Teddy waved at them cheerily as they passed, and that was that. Harry had left a note on his bedside table explaining everything to everyone (not that anyone would really need it; they would all know where he had gone), and he had left Kreacher with instructions to keep an eye on Teddy while he was gone. He and Ginny Apparated straight to the rocky coast where the boat to Azkaban was usually kept, and found it swaying on unusually gentle waves. Harry wanted to take that as a good sign.

Everything would be fine. Everything except -

"Fancy meeting you here, Potter."

Harry wheeled around. It was Snape, of course. How had he known?

But no. Snape had a backpack not unlike his. He was bundled up in a heavy winter cloak, dragon hide gloves, and a thick and rather knobbly black scarf.

"You're going?" Harry blurted, at the same moment Ginny asked, "Did Hermione knit you that?"

Snape glanced between the two of them, his eyes cold. "Yes," he answered.

To both questions, Harry suspected.

"You're under forty," Ginny pointed out. "They'll marry you off."

"They will not," Snape replied with a sneer. His gaze dropped to their fingers. "I see Potter has finally popped the question."

Ginny snorted. "I popped the question. He was a complete berk about it. He'll need some practice before we really get there."

"Then I suggest you return to Grimmauld Place and start practicing."

"No," Harry said. "I did this, I have to -"

"You don't have to do anything, Potter. I will find Miss Granger. Run along home."

"No."

Ginny, glancing back and forth between them, rolled her eyes. "Really, professor, if you send him home he'll just come back."

He scowled at her. "I am not a professor. And you have not even graduated school."

Ginny shrugged. "I dropped out."

"How impressive."

"I think you know I can handle myself."

They glared at each other. Harry shifted impatiently. "Can we just go?"

"I will not allow -"

"I'm not your responsibility anymore!" Harry snapped.

Snape glared at them both, then snarled, "Fine. But if we make it back alive kindly do not inform Molly Weasley that I was involved in this."

"Don't worry," Ginny said. "The less Mum knows, the better."