Minerva's office was flooded with the light of the setting sun, emphasizing the Gryffindor colors of the interior. After taking over the position of the Headmistress of Hogwarts, she refused to move to Dumbledore's office. She sarcastically wished Albus would use the time alone to think about his behavior. She never regretted her choice of staying in the Tower and frequently admired the wonderful view of the surrounding grounds.
A teaspoon clinked softly against a china cup, an apricot pie was cooling on a platter, and a lively conversation was being conducted between the two allies. Poppy cut the cake as the kind hostess and poured more rosehip tea into the cups. The mediwitch then looked questioningly at Minerva.
"So, what are you suggesting?"
Minerva graciously took the first sip, surveyed the sunlit room with a wistful gaze, and responded, slightly drawling.
"I suggest we act, Poppy. It will soon be a year since Severus has locked himself within his four walls, making his days busy with brewing potions and writing articles. I don't even remember the last time he slept or left Hogwarts for things more interesting than visits to Knockturn Alley. Merlin only knows, but I think he still has connections with the dark ingredient pharmacists."
"And you don't approve of that, of course," Poppy nodded back. She had long been accustomed to Severus' bouts of painful performance, so she was fairly sure that he simply needed time, and everything would work itself out in the end.
"Now you will start telling me that Severus needs time. That everything will pass, that he will recover from his acute melancholy and everything will be as before. But let me tell you, I believe this time is different from all the previous ones."
"I don't see much difference, Minerva. He lost a woman who was dear to him, he is trying to cope with his loss, he is immersed in work, and truthfully we should be grateful that he did not leave to look for a new Dark Lord or another, more accommodating, Master."
Minerva put her cup down and leaned forward. "You mediwizards are too accommodating and cynical to join the resistance, Poppy, because you are used to going with the flow instead of acting."
"What could we change, Minerva? Can we give Severus false hope? Are we ready to watch him slowly sinking into madness? It seems to me that we have already gone through all this with dear Albus, and it almost cost us the loss in the War."
Minerva snorted like a cat and curled her lips in a grin. "It does not bear any comparison. I'm sure Severus will not go in search of the Resurrection Stone and will not engage in golem creation. As for false hope..."
Minerva got up and walked to the farthest bookshelf filled with statuettes, rotating objects, and the very Muggle perpetual motion machine - all the trinkets she inherited from Albus. There, among the endlessly shimmering grains of sand in an hourglass expected to last for half a century, rested a small ball, shining with a bluish light. Minerva carefully took it in her hands and, swinging it on a chain, raised it to her eyes. Poppy looked closer and gasped in shock.
"I thought they were all destroyed years ago!"
"Everyone has their own secrets," Minerva replied with a satisfied smile and returned to the table. "This was Hermione's last project, the Time-Turner, allowing you to travel decades in the past. The girl had grandiose plans! Oh, Merlin, and all because of some dark curse that rebounded!"
Poppy pulled the Time-Turner closer and frowned as she peered at the grains of sand dripping inside.
"It's the dust of the Philosopher's Stone, isn't it?"
"Hermione managed to contact the descendants of Flamel and by hook or by crook she found out the secret of making the Time-Turners. It seems to me that they were only happy to get rid of their father's heritage, who knows... But one thing is clear, she managed to reproduce the exact recipe."
"But what was she going to change?"
Minerva turned her pensive gaze to the window: the setting sun painted the waters of the Black Lake scarlet, reminding her of the day of the Last Battle when the loss of her students and friends painted the water and surroundings in the same colors. She will not allow another loss, not when everything can still be fixed.
"I suppose Hermione planned to prevent Albus from dying, you know that it was his death and the madness that preceded it that brought us all to the current confused and sad situation."
Poppy just sighed. Gryffindors always dreamed of changing the world, even when they were not asked to do so. Yes, Albus's insidious schemes cost many of them nightmares, but time would heal everything, everything would pass, they needed to live on, and not cling to the past.
As if reading her friend's thoughts, Minerva mockingly said, "Everything would pass? Go and tell Severus about it."
Poppy crossed her arms over her chest.
"What was it you were planning, anyway? Do you suggest we send him back five years and persuade him not to kill Albus? I suppose you think then he would not have to divide his own soul into parts and we would avoid the consequences of the killing curse."
"No, you are thinking in the wrong direction. No matter how cynical it may sound, but I don't need to bring Albus back to life. No, Albus had too many ruined lives on his account to allow him to get off so easily. Let him have his own Purgatory and repentance. I want to give Severus a chance to live the past year again. And who knows, maybe he can prevent Hermione's death?"
"In your cunnings, Minerva, you don't see the consequences. What if he loses?"
"He won't remember anything anyway. Plus, what if he won? You have always underestimated Severus, considering him to be something like your long-lost son."
"But you are pinning too high hopes on him."
"You know, the Sorting Hat did offer me Slytherin," Minerva smirked. "More tea?"
Severus froze warily over the cauldron, which sparkled and seethed with a purple potion. The calendar on the wall rasped today's date, the metronome counted down the prescribed number of seconds, the leaves outside the window changed their color. These were the only things that reminded him of the inevitable passage of time.
Yet another experimental potion fell short of expectations. Apricot pits, ginkgo leaves crushed into pollen, boomslang bile, acacia flowers, and elderberry bark. It was vital for him to keep his own memories of this damned year intact, but the components of the potion constantly neutralized each other, and he could not figure out what was his mistake.
Crookshanks, tired of Severus's endless preoccupation over the smoking cauldron, ran to the laboratory and demanded attention and food. Severus had to be distracted. He had to remember that besides the grief, he still had duties and responsibilities, and he was forced to face life head-on.
Yet everything in his house remained the same as if frozen in the autumn twilight haze, which would never dissipate under the sunlight. It seemed like his wife had just gone out on business and would come back in the evening to pester him with questions, leave her Muggle T-shirts around the house, sing in the bathroom, and try to cook a half-burned toast for breakfast.
Their wedding photo was still on the mantelpiece, enchanted from dust and aging. Severus remembered how chaotic their wedding day was, how annoyed Hermione seemed, and how angry he felt at himself. The stupid Marriage Law imposed by the Ministry seemed to ruin all their plans, but, as time had shown, they were both wrong.
The moment captured in the photo managed to capture the groom's glance lingering on the bride and a timid smile and a spark of gratitude in Hermione's eyes. There was a scattering of sparks that showered the couple as a sign of prosperity and eternity.
Severus suppressed the urge to break something. He was afraid to violate the sanctity of the room, the fragility of the moment, and his acute melancholy. Next to the photo rested the Time-Turner, which the elves had brought the day before, and for the first time in a year, a new meaning dawned in his gloomy life.