Five O'Clock on a Saturday Afternoon...

Diana and I tend to engage in friendly contests where we can. Not explicitly, of course. But we do compare our number of followers and we do compare our respective range of influence. Her main means of broadening hers consists in just marrying her most influential business partners, of course. Having a husband with whom I am highly satisfied, I refuse to pursue the same route and therefore resort to other methods, such as the forging of friendship among my allies.

Meredith, of course, makes life very hard for us through her affiliation with the newly arising British Wizarding Army. I am thinking of replacing her through someone more trustworthy, someone who will not entice the Field-Marshal away from my person. Someone, perhaps, whose metamorphmagical grandchild has turned into a celebrated war hero overnight... but no. She is not securely loyal enough – yet.

Am I resentful towards my daughter's behaviour in recent weeks and months? Absolutely. She provides me with difficulty after difficulty, in spite of the half-blood Prince's sudden and unexpected development. He is now more than just a Diricawl around the neck and has proven quite useful, actually – and may still do so in future. When he finally comes to his senses about the adoption, I shall at last be able to repay the Snape family for their invaluable discretion back in the days when Minerva foolishly rejected their youngest son's marriage offer.

The What-If-Device

Not ten minutes later, the two former colleagues sat down on either side of the round attic table on which Severus's Pensieve had previously stood. Minerva had collected a few pieces of parchment from her father, regarding the topic of dimension-travelling, as he had called it, and was studying them intently now, her square glasses rather close to the tip of her nose, making her look very stern and teacher-like, despite the circumstances. She was holding a quill that looked as though it came from an albino peacock, but Severus refrained from asking. All in all, he now sensed a level of professionalism, which he had greatly missed when Morgana had taken him up here. Minerva actually seemed to know what she was doing and it was so much more reassuring to know that, in the event of danger, there would be someone with actual experience and, you had to admit, magical skill around.

Minerva had explained to him that the What-If-Device worked a little like a time-turner, only that it relied on the multiple universe theory and transported you into a different reality depending on which parameters you changed by means of a few simple incantations. It was also a device designed in such a way that even a Muggle would have been able to use it. Naturally, this fact did not do much to improve Severus's sense of self-worth, but it allowed the much desired peek into a reality where he had been born as a pureblood. Minerva had said this was theoretically possible. Now she was working on making it happen.

"It says here," she informed him without looking up from the numerous charts and descriptions, which her father had written down on the parchment, "that the user will participate, temporarily, in the life of his or her other, alternative self. You would use the other world as you would a children's pool, so to speak – only temporarily and always under the constraints of the device. A little like learning how to fly on a safety leash. Professor Pleye-Wood was very adamant that it was the best of all methods for learning the art. Have you had to undergo that torture, too?"

Severus shook his head. Minerva pursed her lips.

"Ah no, it was Rolanda who taught you, wasn't it? Be glad."

She perused the parchment further and eventually stood up.

"What we are going to do," she explained, "is this: we shall set the device to a very limited time, say… an hour," she touched two of the runes with her left hand, "and we'll change your blood status as a parameter. – People have often asked for this, so my father built it in. Don't ask me how he did it. - Goodness, that's wrong. I'll have to do it again."

"Did your father build this device for a particular purpose?" Severus enquired, sharply aware, though not surprised that Morgana's story had been untruthful.

"Oh," said Minerva, a little awkward all of a sudden, "well, I suppose you might say that, at the time, it was rather an accidental discovery. The Ministry refused to patent it due to its 'highly destructive potential', as they put it. This happens a lot of the time with my father's discoveries, I have to say. He doesn't have a lot of friends among the older members of the more traditional pureblood families, so they interfere with his work where they can."

"And this is part of his work?"

"Not strictly speaking. Although dimension-travel is one of the many areas researched within the Department of Mysteries, my father is a practical historian first and foremost, concerned with facts, not fiction."

"Minerva," said Severus slowly, trying to scrape together bits and pieces of what he remembered about the Ministry of Magic's internal structure, "is your father one of the Unspeakables?"

The deputy headmistress turned her head in surprise, but smiled when she saw the expression on his face.

"Why, yes, Severus. I thought that was obvious."

"In principle, perhaps. It is well known that practical history is among their main fields of research. But I must say I would have expected the work of an Unspeakable to be… well, classified in some way."

"Oh, but it is!" confimed his friend quickly. She was still working on the runes and did not look too happy with her own progress. Every now and then, she compared her own work against her father's notes and shook her head critically. "My father's work only ever comes to light when he decides to publish a paper or write a book, which then becomes official knowledge within the wizarding world," she explained in-between pushing and turning her runes. "That is the reason for the enchantments on everything we… oh, but you won't have noticed...!"

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," said Minerva, turning a little red while pressing around on the brim of the What-If Device. "I never even considered telling you this because I never feared that you might go and discuss my father's work with anyone outside the family – for obvious reasons. Most terms used to describe my father's work outside the obvious time-travelling are enchanted so that, if you use them in conversation with an outsider, they will either not believe you or fail to understand what you are saying. Their brain will not be able to process it. A very basic incantation, actually – very similar to the ones they use during Quidditch World Cup games and other large-scale wizarding events to deter Muggles from entering the premises. Quite interesting, actually, from the point of view of a Transfiguration expert."

Severus was fascinated. So this was how Minerva dealt with Morgana walking freely between her grandparents' home and the outside world. And he did not doubt for one moment that this safety measure had been implemented primarily to keep Morgana's loose tongue in check.

"I admire your father's foresight," he therefore said, cautious to remain polite. Minerva flashed him a smile and continued her examination of the runes in front of her.

"You have to be creative if you do secret government work from home. By the way," she then added, getting up at last and picking up the piece of parchment from the table again, "don't ever let yourself be tempted to tip the box over. It would be a great nuisance for my father to fix the results."

"Morgana told me something to that effect," replied Severus, vaguely amused. "Is this it then? Did you finish the set-up?"

"Yes," confirmed the deputy headmistress. "This is it. All we have to do now is enter the other world and allow ourselves to be surprised by what it brings."

Severus looked up in surprise.

"We?"

"Obviously."

"You are coming with me?"

"Yes, Severus. What do you think? You have no magic and will be thrown into a situation entirely unfamiliar to you. Who would protect you from your own reactions?"

Severus stared at the black-haired witch, who summoned a travelling hat and outstretched her hand towards him as you would to a small child when boarding a flying carpet.

"Are you coming then?"

"You act as though I was an invalid!"

"Well, Severus," said Minerva slowly, taking her glasses and wiping them thoroughly, "strictly speaking that's what you are. I know this is not a nice thing to be told, but using magic devices without the help of someone who can stop the process if the need arises... well, such a course of action is inadvisable to say the least, as I try to tell my students on a frequent basis."

Severus watched the solid wood and the ancient-looking runes of the What-If Device in front of him and hesitated for a while, knowing that he should agree but struggling against the thought of being baby-sat yet again by his oldest and best friend. Eventually, however, when Minerva seemed to be getting impatient, he nodded glumly and took her hand. When their hands touched, a small shiver caught each of the two friends and Severus suppressed the urge of withdrawing his hand and escaping the situation once more.

"Excellent," said Minerva, pressing his hand. "I expect this will be quite entertaining."

Severus gave her a puzzled look, which made the smile on the deputy headmistress's face disappear again.

"I apologise," she said quickly. "This isn't the time for jokes."

They stepped into the box, on Minerva's instruction, and gripped each other's shoulder firmly. Severus suddenly thought he was feeling his magic return, but then realised that this was another sensation, more deeply based in human nature and common to Muggles and wizards alike.

Minerva squeezed his shoulder lightly, spoke a few words and they were catapulted through space and time through a channel not unlike the effect floo powder had when you travelled between two fireplaces that stood extremely far apart. Severus suspected that this was due to the imperfect state of the non-patented device rather than an inherent need to travel through a mysterious tunnel in order to access alternate universes – but you never knew, of course.

They arrived in front of a fireplace in the middle of a small, square room, which obviously served as an office to someone who had money but used it infrequently and without great care for the details of decoration. The office featured several large, wooden book cases and only one window right in between them. In front of the window, there was a desk. Large and dark-surfaced, it made Severus recoil unconsciously, perhaps calling on some deep, primeval instinct, he analysed, gathering himself quickly and taking a few steps into the room. Minerva followed closely.

"Ah," she said, looking around. "I thought so."

Severus turned. "You thought what?"

"This is Camden," said Minerva earnestly. "I didn't specify the place because I thought the time would be more crucial to the experience and you can never specify both, of course. The other Severus – you, in effect, arrived here, using this fireplace, too, I imagine, on the day I specified. You are sixteen, by the way. I thought it prudent to give you a first hand impression of what living under Lance's roof would be like. Remember that this means you are not of age here, especially since, as a pureblood, you come of age quite late in the eyes of the more traditional members of our society. All of this," she gestured around, "will be implanted in your brain as the place where you grew up if you go for a complex adoption."

Severus looked around and eventually down, scrutinizing his own arms and lower body, a trace of amusement playing around his lips.

"I don't look sixteen."

"You will to your parents," said Minerva earnestly. "Though I cannot say if Virbia is still alive in this world or not. She would not be in ours. I told you that a pureblood childhood isn't a guarantee for endless happiness. Quite the contrary, perhaps. Who knows, you might find that you prefer your own parents to Lance and Virbia, squibcident or not."

Severus frowned, hearing heavy footsteps from outside the office door.

"Challenge accepted," he muttered uncomfortably.