Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this belong to me.

Chapter Twelve | Letting Go

"Miss Potter, please stay behind."

I grumble quietly as I pack my bags, avoiding McGonagall's gaze as she looks at me worriedly. "Was there anything you needed Professor?" I ask, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

She fidgets nervously with her cloak for just a moment, almost short enough for most to not notice. I notice though, wondering what has my previous Head of House so tense. "I was wanting to check in with you and make sure that you're well." She hesitates for a split second, her lips drawing tight in a familiar expression. "The quality of your work in the last week has dropped considerably. I was curious if there were any issues you were having with the syllabus, maybe outside of class?"

I tilt my head, hiding my rising shock behind a blank face.

Things have been confusing for me lately. I haven't a clue why, but they have been. It's been a long time since I've had nightmares, and normally they're quite, well- explicit. Voldemort killing me, my friends and family, and everyone I hold dear is the usual fare. They stand out in how horrific they are. I remember the details, the fine points of the dream. These nightmares though? Haven't a goddamn clue.

All I can really pinpoint is a smile. A smile of all things. I don't understand it, I don't understand why a smile is what is important to me, as opposed to something insidious, something gory or violent. It's not a pleasant smile, to be honest. It's more… malicious. Hateful is probably the best word to describe it. I just don't understand why the hell I'm having nightmares about a smile. I can't put my bloody finger on it.

I haven't really slept a wink for the last couple of weeks because of these nightmares. God knows McGonagall has noticed it and that's why I'm being questioned. I thought she didn't particularly give a shit about her students after the desperate conversation I had with her about the stone in the last timeline. She's probably back on Dumbledore's orders to hound me everywhere I go. Make sure I'm not turning dark. Pfft. Apparently, that's too late.

"I'm fine," I reply as I look her in the eye, my gaze unwavering. "Everything is fine, thank you for asking."

I readjust the strap on my bag, letting it slide a little closer to the floor. McGonagall frowns subtly, her mouth opening a crack in protest.

"Thank you, Professor. Is it alright if I head to my next class?"

She nods, staring at my mouth, not making eye contact. She doesn't anything as she gestures for me to leave, and I comply, doing my best to ignore her oddly morose attitude as I make my way to my potions lecture.

Potions.

That's what's really concerning. Things have gotten bad enough that Snape has been looking at me in concern. Severus Bloody Snape. I know he's a bit different this time round, although I'm assuming it's because I don't look like a carbon copy of my Dad. I understand that he was bullied relentlessly by the Marauders, but it was so incredibly petty of Snape to be to resentful of me for simply looking like my Dad. I can't honestly imagine what he expected, it's not as if I wasn't going to look like my parents. I'm not necessarily complaining now, I know he was bulled by them, but taking out a fifteen-year-old grudge on a student, his student, is pretty damn low.

I make it to class on time, taking my seat as Snape swoops into the room. I get why the other students compare him to a bat, but no bat is that loud, visually and audibly. Bats don't make an impression, they're there and gone before you can even blink.

I keep feeling him sending out legilimency probes as I unscrew my ink pot, putting it off to the side before sharpening the end of a blunted quill. The probes are slight, but they're there. I don't know what he's trying to do but there's no chance in hell I'm letting him take a peek into my head.

God, that'd cause a shit storm even I couldn't luck myself out of. I can't even imagine what he would think if he found out that I'm a time traveler, not to mention our less than friendly history. The sheer hatred the two of us held for each other was nearly palpable.

I sigh, looking up at the board, noting that todays lecture is on theory. Specifically, theory involving potions that act like self-transfiguration, morphing the body in different ways be it for healing, or for a more utility focused purpose.

I absentmindedly scribble down my notes. Hopefully things lighten up for me and I can manage to get a decent night's sleep soon. It's going to be ridiculously difficult for me to take care of a sixty-foot basilisk when I'm running on fumes. Shite, it's going to be pretty much impossible to take care of it even if I'm at my peak.

"Miss Potter, what would I get if I added boomslang skin to steeped lacewing flies?"

Glancing up from my desk I realize I've started to nod off again. Can't sleep during the night, can't sleep during the day. Fuck me.

"That would be… Polyjuice Potion, Professor Snape," I answer tiredly, eyebrows raised in an attempt to keep my eyes open. Nodding, he sends a sharp look my way, along with a slightly more forceful legilimency probe. God damnit.

I groan in frustration, and instinctually retaliate, pushing back his mental attack with my own. Snape staggers awkwardly, colliding noisily with his desk just as the bell rings. Flustered, he supports himself with one hand, his stern gaze sweeping over the class and silencing them immediately, preventing any concerned questions.

"Class is dismissed, I want papers on the uses and interactions of boomslang skin by next class. Miss Potter, stay behind," he intones, locking eyes with me.

Sighing, I slowly pack up my notes. What a day.

"Please, take a seat Miss Potter," Snape says, his voice quiet yet stern. "I'd like to discuss some things with you."

I bitch and moan under my breath as I take my spot in front of Snape's desk, slouching into the chair and trying my best not to pass out.

God I'm tired.

Snape raises an eyebrow inquisitively, his steady drawl sounding remarkably tense. "Are you there, Miss Potter? You're looking quite tired."

"Yeah, yeah. Just tired," I reply, waving him off. "What did you need Professor?"

Frowning, he runs his gaze over me, taking in the sallow cheeks, and sunken tired eyes. "Is everything alright? I know I'm not your head of house, but I hope if there was anything going on that you'd be able to speak to me." He bites his lip, looking slightly flustered. I'm too tired to even register that he's showing an emotion other than contempt. "You're looking quite frightful Helene."

"I'm just tired is all. It's not the end of the world," I jibe, rolling my eyes surreptitiously. "There's nothing to talk about." I stand up, taking one last glance at him. "If that was everything Professor, I do have to get to charms."

Snape moves to say something but stops himself. Blinking slowly, he taps his fingers on his desk. "You're an accomplished occlumens," he comments.

I blink, wondering why he would mention that when he knows the legality of legilimancing a minor. "Thanks for noticing. I would prefer if you didn't attack my mind in the middle of class, seems to me that's highly unprofessional, not to mention against the law.

He has the decency to look ashamed as he replies, "I was concerned. I find students are often too afraid to speak up when they're in a tight spot. I occasionally use… more on hand techniques to ascertain whether or not the require help or are simply being gloomy children."

Huh.

I turn back to him, wondering what to do. I almost break out laughing at the idea of Severus Snape of all people being concerned for me, going out of his way to help me. "So. You think I'm in a tight spot?"

"Yes, because I've seen that look. I know the look you're giving me right this moment."

"What look would that be?"

"The look of someone who's dealing with something terrible," he admits, his face unreadable. "I used to see it in the mirror every single day. Still do on occasion."

My breath hitches. I have to keep myself from starting in shock, instead choosing to keep my features steeled and not react externally. "It's just nightmares Professor, everyone gets them, I just get them a little more often," I concede, extending an olive branch. I wave my hand lazily. "I'll be fine. They go away after a while."

Lips pursed, he nods again. "Know that you can come and talk to me any time if you require, my door is always open. I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you… Professor."

I leave the classroom even more confused than when I entered.

-::-

I'm getting worse.

I can't sleep at night. I can't stay awake during the day. I can't think. I can't function. I can't feel. I can't live.

Every day is the same.

I wake up before the sun has risen, vomit on my bed and tears in my eyes. I brush my teeth much longer than I should, the enamel sloughing off as I scrub the filth from my mouth, doing my damndest to wash away the acrid aftertaste of sick. I shower, the water so hot as to burn my skin, cleansing me of all impurities seen and unseen.

I still don't feel clean.

I don't know why I feel this way. Why I feel so filthy. Why my days are a blur, a torrid mess of well-meaning professors and concerned friends all clamouring to make sure I'm alright. Why I keep telling everyone that everything is fine. Yeah, I'm just peachy, thanks.

Everything is fine, that's the fucking problem.

Nothing is wrong in my life. There's been no assassination attempts from Voldemort, no attacks from ancient basilisks, no falsified magical contracts, nothing. Life is so painfully normal.

Is that why I hurt? Am I so unused to normalcy that I reject it so completely and utterly as to no longer function, that I just become a shell of myself?

I'm losing weight, and rapidly. My once healthy and athletic body is now wasted away, skin clinging to sharply protruding bones, hidden beneath baggy robes and thick sweaters. I look like Death, quite literally.

The cycle has continued for a while. Snape pulls me aside, I tell him that nothing is wrong, we agree to disagree, etcetera etcetera. He's watching me even more, sending worried looks over his beak-like nose during meals. Watching me pick away at my food, pushing it around the plate and taking a few small bites here and there.

Frustrated, I do my best to avoid him outside of classes. I leave his classroom quickly after the bell has rung so that I can avoid him calling for me to stay afterwards and chat. Death's cloak does me well as I use it to get from lecture to lecture, noticing him slinking around the halls, watching for me. He's practically stalking me at this point.

Clearing my thoughts, I rush on my way to Defence, fingers crossed that I won't be late. Luckily, I manage to make it just in time, nabbing a seat towards the back of the class as it starts to fill up.

I flinch when Lockhart enters, grinning at me. I feel repulsed just being in the same room as him. A shiver runs down my spine, my whole body crying out for me to just leave. I push it down, confused and worried, averting my gaze from Lockhart's and doing my best to go unnoticed.

I take out a copy of Warfare Magic: Tactics and Spells that I've glamoured to look like one of his tell all autobiographies, kicking back and studying over it for the length of the class. I occasionally glance up to respond to some trite question or stifle a laugh when I'm distracted by one of Lockhart's little re-enactments.

I still have this niggling feeling of nausea and fear tickling at the back of my mind. It only happens when I'm in Lockhart's class, and for the life of me I can't figure out why.

-::-

"Miss Potter, a word if I may."

I roll my eyes, turning to see Snape. I wipe the sleep from my eyes, yawning widely. "Yes, Professor? What can I do for you?"

He motions for me to follow him, and I comply, our path taking us through the corridors back down to his office in the dungeons. I tag behind him in silence, walking into his office where he offers me a seat and puts a kettle on.

I sit and watch as he makes the tea, asking me how I take it before handing me a mug and sitting down in front of me. "Is everything alright with you Miss Potter? You still look a bit under the weather. I'd recommend you go and see Madame Pomfrey when you have the chance. Whatever you're dealing with isn't going away."

Sipping at my drink I consider his words. It's a bit hard for me to trust Snape, especially after all the conflicts we went through in my last life. I can't exactly up and forgive the man for making my school life absolutely miserable, or the times when he took out his anger on other students. He really was, and I guess, is, a spiteful man.

I mull it over for a while, wondering what to do or say. "I don't know if I can trust you," I state after a few minutes, my hands tight around the hot mug of tea. "I've heard how you treat other students, and I don't know if I can confide in someone who is so… cold to people who are too young to know better."

Eyebrows cocked, he looks at me inquisitively. He sighs suddenly, setting his mug down and resting his arms on the table, thinking quietly. "I will admit that I'm not exactly the most… friendly educator that Hogwarts hosts."

An understatement if I've ever heard one.

"Have you ever seen me treat students in the way that you say I do?"

I stop myself from responding immediately, telling him that I'm one of the students he's harassed, verbally abused, and taunted in his lectures. I imagine it would be a tad confusing when he's treated me cordially since I started in this life. I chose my words before replying. "I understand that there's tension between your house and Gryffindor," I observe, Snape nodding in response, not denying my statement. "Regardless of whether or not there is reason behind that tension, you are a teacher. You should be above the student's squabbles. I do want to thank you for backing me up during my altercation with Malfoy last year, but I believe that's the only time I've seen you back someone from outside of your house."

Fiddling with my cup, I look him in the eye.

"Why me?"

Snape sighs deeply, fingers drumming over his mug of tea. He stares down into it, watching the steam rise from the drink. "Because I was good friends with your mother, once upon a time," he remarks, looking at me with surprising kindness in his eyes. "I see a lot of you in her. Your passion for learning, how you treat your friends, and most notably how you treat your enemies." He chuckles wryly, a sad look on his face. "I deeply regret the day her and I grew apart, as it was all my fault. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I could apologize for what I said."

I don't reply immediately, studying Snape in a whole new light. "I never knew that," I murmur.

Well… the man has just bared his soul to who he imagines is a twelve-year-old, might as well give him a little something in return. Hopefully he can actually help me.

"I've been having nightmares. I know I said that to you the last time we spoke, but these ones are especially vivid. All I see is a… a smile, at least- that's all that I remember. The smile isn't pleasant. It's terrifying, to be honest. I don't know why it is. It just is." I splay my hands in confusion, shaking my head. "It's becoming more and more evident that it's bothering me, isn't it?"

Snape stands up, pouring himself a second cup of tea before returning to his spot.

"If you'd like, I could look into your mind and try to figure out the why of those dreams," he queries, tapping his fingers on the table. "I understand the need for privacy, and if you don't want me to look then I won't. I will say, I've personally found my dreams are often based in real life. A cause and effect if you will."

Sounds a bit like Freud, but wasn't he a bit of a hack? Maybe magic changes things.

I stare at the floor, weighing his offer. "I'm not exactly comfortable with that. Maybe if this doesn't go away in a couple of weeks I'll come to you. But do know that I'm going to need an oath from you not to reveal anything you see," I answer honestly, not sure that now is the best time for Snape to go looking through my mind.

He nods approvingly. "I would have offered to take an oath anyways. I would not be able to tell anyone of what I see unless I come across explicit information that causes me to believe that you may be a danger to yourself or others."

Hmm. I'd have to really focus to make sure he couldn't see my experimentation in the more esoteric sides of magic. That and the whole time travel fiasco.

Would I feel comfortable having Snape know about my time hopping? I'll have to find out soon if I want to get a decent night's sleep. "Give me some time Professor, I'll come to you when I'm comfortable. I am considering the offer though. Thank you."

"Just Severus please, as long as we're in private. I do have a reputation to uphold," he smirks playfully, showing a normally unseen side of himself.

Smiling back, I accept and leave.

-::-

I retch, my disgusted moans echoing all around my head as tonight's dinner comes flooding out of my throat, spattering noisily against the porcelain walls of the toilet seat. Spitting, I wipe the last remnants of vomit from my lips, exhausted beyond belief.

I slump over, lying on my back and staring at the bathroom ceiling. I count the miniscule cracks in the stone, at least, I try to. I'm too tired to pay attention to what I'm doing, distracted by my burning throat and my watery eyes. I turn over to my side, running my fingers through the bath mat next to me, absentmindedly twisting the shaggy tendrils that spring up from it.

Just my luck, nothing's changed.

These past few weeks leaving October and entering November have gone by in a tired blur. I laugh morosely, realizing what a depressing sight I must be right now. Fuck, the only reason I'm not failing any of my courses is because of my previous knowledge carrying me through them.

I haven't had time to study and practice the magic I want to, what with my attention span being that of a goldfish. Insomnia, of course. The dangers involved in attempting new magic whilst in the wrong state of mind is too high of a risk for me, and I'm not so arrogant as to believe that I could undertake another ritual with the way I am right now.

"I can't keep living like this," I croak, talking to myself. I blink slowly, my whole body moving at a snail's pace, everything lagging behind by a second. I think I need to see Snape.

I enter my mindscape and begin to tuck away any memories I wouldn't feel comfortable having him see, locking them away in a trunk that I bury under the stone floor of the castle I've constructed in my head. I scour over the memories for an hour or two, double checking everything to make sure that I haven't missed a revealing memory. I pause in confusion as I come across a blank spot.

"Odd," I whisper. I walk up to it, an empty cubby on what should be a full book shelf. I pull out the book immediately to the left of where the missing one should be, cracking it open and looking over it. I go over that days events, noting that I had herbology in the morning, followed by transfiguration. I put my finger on the page, leafing through the book quickly, wondering where it gets cut off.

I start in shock as I reach the end. Defence Against the Dark Arts? Why would I be missing a-

I curse, smacking myself on the head. How could I be so stupid?

Lockhart.

I was obliviated. I was fucking obliviated.

I clench my fists, fury raging through me as I pace a furrow into the floor. At least, there would be a furrow there if I wasn't currently in my own mind. "That blond, self-absorbed, narcissistic, arse-licking fucking cunt! He obliviated me!" I shout, my voice echoing off imagined walls. "God fucking damnit!"

But what the hell did he remove from my mind? What could possibly have been so important that he would risk obliviating a student?

Did I embarrass him that much? No, that couldn't be it. What in the hell would he feel warrants the need to wipe my mind? Whatever it is, it surely would explain why I find him so bloody scary. It makes sense. Something about his smile is setting me off, something about the way he just leers at me. But why is it causing me insomnia? Why is… whatever it is, slowly ruining me?

Shivering slightly, I slide the book back into place, exiting my mind and racing back into the conscious world. I scramble to my feet, running on weak and shaking knees towards Snape's office. He can help me with this. He already offered, he's just going to be doing a bit more than he would have expected in the first place.

I knock frantically on the door, almost falling over when it's swung open to reveal a very grumpy potions master, who instantly softens up as he sees who's tearing him away from his work.

"Please, come in," he says, gesturing for me to make myself at home. "Would you like any tea?"

Shaking my head, I reply "No, but I will need that oath from you."

Eyebrows raised, he takes out his wand and recites, "I Severus Tobias Snape, do swear that I will keep all that Helene Lily Potter tells me in confidence secret, and will not reveal her secrets unless they put her or another student in danger."

A light flash from his wand signifies the oath taking place.

"I think Lockhart has obliviated me," I hiss, immediately cutting to the chase. "I was looking through my mindscape and came to a blank spot immediately preceding my Defence class a month ago."

I take a deep breath, reining in my magic. It tends to get away with me when I'm downright fucking furious. "I want to know why that son of a bitch obliviated me, and I want your help. I know you're an excellent legilimens, and the only reason you haven't gotten into my head is because you didn't truly want to."

Sufficiently shocked, Severus opens a cabinet behind his desk. He takes out a bottle of Ogden's and pours himself a small glass, quickly taking a discrete sip.

"I had my worries about that narcissistic prick, but I never thought he would ever do anything to the students." He takes another sip, noisily swishing the liquor in his mouth. "You say he obliviated you?"

I nod, Severus' features tightening in fury. "I can't imagine why he would…" he trails off, his face twisting into a look of abject horror. He tosses the rest of his drink back, slamming the glass on his desk. "I have my fears about what we may find if I dredge up this memory, so if you want me to obliviate you of it when we're done, I will make sure to do a thorough job so that it doesn't effect you in the future."

I pause, nausea once again rearing its ugly head. "You're not saying that he-"

Severus raises one hand, asking me to pause. "I'm not saying anything, but I will admit that I'm quite worried," he admits softly.

He readies his wand immediately, staring me in the eyes. "Do I have your permission to look into your mind?"

"Yes. Do what you have to do."

His gaze hardens, and he flicks his wand, loudly incanting legilimens. I flinch reflexively as he throws himself into my mind.

Dazed, I can feel him pushing through my thoughts and memories.

I wave the Blackthorn and Yew wand, watching in amazement as black sparks shoot from the tip. A nature defying stunt for an impossibly perfect wand.

Incredible is the only thing running through my mind.

The Holly and Phoenix Feather wand burns in my hand, but not in a painful manner. It's comforting, like the warmth of a fireplace on a cold winter day. I stare dumbly at the red and gold fireworks bursting from what seems to be such a normal looking stick.

"Brilliant," I whisper, excited to see this new and amazing magical world.

Daphne shrieks as Tracey sneaks up behind her, pinching her hips. She turns around and smacks her playfully, trying her best to hold back the laughter that threatens shake her normally impassive mood. "How dare you do that, Tracey Davis!" She smirks, unable to keep herself from giggling. I laugh, startling her again. "Circe! Why do the two of you always startle me?"

"What's going on?" Hermione asks, carrying a large stack of books as she walks into the room.

"Tracey scared the piss out of Daphne again," I snicker, jabbing my thumb in their direction.

"Oh, grow up Tracey," Hermione chides playfully, the corners of her lips tugging upwards. "And Daphne, you really need to have a bit more fun."

Daphne stares at her in shock, mouth agape. "Hermione Granger just told me to have a bit more fun? The world must be ending," she announces, sticking her head out the window.

"Harry, mate! Wait up a tic!"

Hermione and I stop, waiting for Ron to catch up with us. "Divination was bloody mental today, wasn't it?" He laughs, rolling his eyes. "The grim! The grim! Like we don't run into something crazy every year, yeah?"

I chuckle, shaking my head. "No. Not unless you count Voldemort, a Basilisk, and a swarm of soul sucking demons."

Hermione tries to look stern but fails miserably. "You shouldn't make fun of Professor Trelawney like that," she tuts, her jaw set tightly as she attempts to stifle a laugh. She gives up quite quickly, her bushy hair bouncing as she laughs. "But really, the grim? I agree Ron, it'd be a surprise if Harry didn't see the grim in the bottom of his tea cup."

Sirius smiles impossibly wide as he pulls me up and off my feet into a massive spine crushing hug. "Helene! Dear God, Helene it's so good to finally see you!" He jabbers excitedly, wiping stubborn tears from his eyes. "I'm so sorry I haven't been here for you." He sets me down, kneeling and hugging me more sedately. I hiccup awkwardly, holding back tears of my own. "I'm not going anywhere Helene, I'm not going anywhere."

"You mean I can really live with you?" I whisper, catching a glimpse of Sirius' rotten teeth as he flashes a wild grin.

"Of course, you can, of course you can," he says, placing his hand on my shoulder. I flinch at his touch, playing it off as being repulsed by the stench of Azkaban.

I wave my hand in front of my nose playfully. "You really stink, Padfoot."

He smiles again, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He pulls his hand back, index finger and thumb rubbing together nervously. "Really? I thought eau'd'Azkaban was in this season."

I shake my head, hiding a smirk. "Not really the best line of cologne."

I can feel Severus flinch at the memories, curiosity and confusion rolling off of him in waves. He's nothing but professional though, sticking to the task at hand and driving past the memories to find the blank spot. I know I can expect to be interrogated after he gets out of my head.

I guess I was planning on telling him anyways, as it would help to have someone on my side who answers directly to Dumbledore. Not to mention the fact that he's under oath.

I grimace as he comes across the day I had my mind wiped. Whatever he's doing to pull up an obliviated memory doesn't exactly feel pleasant, like a growing itch in the back of my skull as he excavates my psyche to try and recover what was lost.

I'm sitting in Defence class, ignoring Lockhart's annoying, incessant droning. On and on and on about some lie or another, mindlessly boasting to a group of school children. What an impressive man he must be to spend so much of his time scrabbling for the attention of teenagers.

I don't notice the way he looks at the girls in class, the way he looks at me. How he frowns just a little bit when his eyes pass over me, or how he gets this smile creeping along his face, like he knows something that I don't

I don't notice anything until a bright red light fills my vision as the last student leaves the room.

I scramble uselessly, elbow cracking painfully against the floor as I try to get away from Lockhart.

He looms over me, the most disgusting expression on his face. The word leer can't begin to describe the lecherous grin he wears, the manic glint in his eyes that tells me he enjoys what he's done. That he enjoys breaking people, ruining them, defiling them.

My fingers slide across the puddle of sick, and I fling my hands in front of my face, a desperate attempt to stop what's about to happen, but I can't.

There's a flash of white, and I suddenly find myself staring dumbly at my attacker, listening attentively as he explains what I'm going to forget, how I'm going to walk into to the Great Hall and pretend that nothing ever happened.

My head spinning, I throw Severus out of my mind. The tears flood out, the dam broken. I cry, great shakes wracking my body. I hold myself up on a chair, the wood creaking loudly as I grip it tightly. I don't even notice as snot trickles from my nose and down my chin, a thick string of it hanging from my jaw. I wipe my face, smearing the mess over my cheeks and nose, my hand quivering as I choke and sob.

Severus stares at the floor, hands in his hair as he bares his teeth in a feral grin. "Dear God," he whispers. He staggers as he moves to his seat, taking a swig directly from the bottle. He emits a growl, low in his throat, fingers flexing, strangling some unseen victim. "I'm going to kill that man. I swear to Merlin that I'm going to kill him."

"No," I sniff, casting a quick cleaning charm on my face and wiping my eyes clean more, doing my best to rein in the tremors. "I'm going to kill the son of a bitch."

Snape stands up, pointing angrily towards me. "Not on your life young woman. There's no way I'm letting you near that… that… that piece of filth! Lower than dirt! He 'ought to rot in a cell for the rest of his life!" he snarls, waving his hands wildly. "No! Prison is a mercy for that kind of scum. Death is the only way to keep other children safe! Who knows how many students he's attacked?"

Spinning around, he stares at me accusingly, "First off, you're going to have to explain to me what I saw when I was in your head. What was with those parallel memories? Who was in those memories. An older Granger and Weasley, a small clone of your father…" he pauses, breathing deeply through his nose. "Who was that?"

"It was me, before I died," I reply, a wry smile crossing my face as Snape's eyes bug out in shock.

"You? You what?"

I shrug emphatically. "I died. Although, I didn't die, die. I got sent back. Death wasn't too happy that I kicked the bucket before I was supposed to."

"You… you died? That was you?" he exclaims, eyes narrowed.

I raise my wand, taking care to point it at the ceiling and nowhere near Severus. "I swear on my life and magic that I, Helene Lily Potter, have told nothing but the truth regarding my previous life, death, and resurrection," I intone, Severus frowning even further when the light signifies my oath as true.

"Who the hell are you?" he demands.

"I'm Helene Lily Potter, previously Harry James Potter."

Flustered, Snape starts pacing the room, murmuring under his breath as he tries to comprehend what I've just told him.

I follow him with my eyes, remembering to tell him that I don't want anyone to learn about me. "As you can imagine, I'd like to keep that a secret, and your oath will prevent you from telling anyone as I'm no danger to myself or others for simply having a little mishap with time and space."

He throws his hands up in frustration, gesticulating wildly as he rants at me. "What about paradoxes! The time streams! There's a reason people don't dabble in time travel anymore, it could destroy reality as we know it!"

"Death himself sent me back. Death. I distinctly remember him saying that the old stream was wiped out, and this one will overwrite it. No paradoxes, no mess," I explain, emphasizing that I was sent back in time by a God.

Severus nods shakily, slowly lowering himself back into his seat. "Well, that's a small mercy," he mutters loudly, not intending for me to hear it. "So, Helene… Harry, whatever you want me to call you. What makes you think you fight and kill an adult wizard." He holds his head in one hand, massaging his temples. "I'm not inclined to believe you have the skill or know-how to take down an adult, even a buffoon like Lockhart can be dangerous."

Sighing, I flick my hand and compress the air around me, solidifying it so that it's visible to Snape. He watches in fascination as my fingers dance, fashioning the air into numerous weapons: axes, swords, maces, arrows, before sending a bullet of air into his desk.

He eyes the neat hole now in the centre of his desk and looks underneath it, cursing loudly as he notices that the hole continues through the desk and chips into the stone floor below him.

"That would work," he remarks, eyes nearly popping out of his head as he tries to figure out what kind of spell I just used. "How in Circe's name did you do that? I've never seen elemental magic like that. No incantation, no wand?"

"I've still got my own secrets to keep Severus," I retort, challenging him to keep the questions to a minimum. "And, I prefer to go by Helene. Harry Potter is long dead." I gesture towards myself, smiling genuinely. "I much prefer this body over the last. I always felt like an imposter when I was Harry… Helene- Helene just feels right."

"Odder things have happened," he considers, thankfully not pressing any further. "If you need an alibi for your… removal of Lockhart, I'll be happy to provide one." He pauses, pointing at me aggressively. "I'm also telling you, not asking, telling you to come to me over the next few weeks so we can discuss what happened to you. I'm not letting you go through something like this on your own."

I laugh, marveling at the absurdity of it all. Severus Snape and James Potters child getting along? Textbook insanity. "It seems every time we meet I have to thank you for something. I never imagined that we would have a rapport like this… you and I didn't exactly see eye to eye in my last life."

I have to stifle another chuckle, wondering how deeply Hell has frozen over.

He inclines his head in understanding, looking slightly ashamed. "It most likely would have been impossible for me to treat you well, with you looking so much like your father," Snape replies, putting his hand up as I open my mouth to argue. "It's nothing against you, trust me. It's immature of me. To be quite honest, it's downright terrible of me, and I understand how much you probably resent me for it. But… you have no idea what your father made me go through when we were students."

"I have an idea of how bad things were, I saw the memory of when you and my mum split ways. There's no excuse for my Dad and Sirius' behaviour, but there's no excuse for how you treated me as well."

"I was wondering why you brought that up when I approached you a couple of weeks ago," Snape muses, before lightly rapping his knuckles against the table. "I promise not to treat you as terribly as my future… past? I'm not sure how to phrase it. As my alternate self?" He subtly nods at that moniker. "Yes, as my alternate self once treated you. Do try to be quick with your errand, and don't be stupid and leave a trace, alright?"

I stand up, smoothing out my robes. "Can do Severus. I'm no longer a Gryffindor, no charging in for this girl," I retort, turning back to smile at him. "You know I was supposed to be in Slytherin, right?"

I smirk at his thinly veiled frustration as I leave his office, my feet carrying me towards my dorms. I laugh again, startling a portrait as I walk past it. You'd think that he wanted me to be in Slytherin!

-::-

I can feel my every muscle tense as I put the cloak on. I clench my jaw, stopping my teeth from rattling. Fucking adrenaline. I dance on the balls of my feet, stretching my legs in preparation of the fight to come.

Fucking Lockhart. I'm going to cut off his balls with a plastic spoon and feed them to him raw.

I creep down the stairs and exit the common room, tiptoeing as I make my way through the halls so that I don't alert any prefects. Thank fuck I spent five years sneaking out of my dorms after curfew before.

After a few minutes and a close call with Filch and Mrs. Norris, I quietly enter the Defence classroom, silencing the door as I close it so as to not alert anyone. Although, I imagine Lockhart wouldn't even notice the door slamming as he spends most of his time basking in his narcissistic shrine, taking in the gaze of his dozens of portraits and photographs.

I slowly creep up the stairs to the office, repeating my spells on the door as I slip through the crack and into Lockhart's quarters.

I inhale deeply through my nose, the breath leaving my body in a great shudder. It takes everything in me to not immediately crucio the son of a bitch. I stand there and watch in silence as he sits at his desk, feet propped on top of it as he works through a pile of letters sent from his vapid fans, jotting off an autograph with a quick flourish and tucking it away into a separate stack.

I stand there for a while, just watching him.

After a few minutes, I steel myself. I blink long and hard, in through the nose, out through the mouth. IN a flash of red, I stun Lockhart, conjuring ropes and binding him tightly enough to cut off blood flow. I prop him up in his chair, head lolling behind him over the backrest.

Glancing down at his fallen wand, I pick it up and snap it over my knee, making sure to leave the pieces in view as I enervate him.

He shakes his head, blinking slowly. "Wha- what's going on?" he babbles. He tries to move his hands, eyes widening in shock as he notices they're bound behind him. He struggles uselessly against the ropes, head darting left and right as he looks for me. "Who's there!?"

I whip the cloak off, baring my teeth in a feral grin.

His mouth opens in confusion, forming a tiny 'o.' He stares at me quizzically, before understanding washes over him.

I get up into his face, grimacing at the flowery scent that bombards me. "You didn't think your obliviate would work forever, did you?" I hiss, allowing a bit of parseltongue to creep into my voice. Lockhart shudders in horror at the inhuman sound, squeaking in fright. "You didn't think you could actually get away with what you did to me? Did you?"

He begins to rock in his seat, trying his best to escape. Frantically, Lockhart starts to grovel, "Miss Potter, dear, no hard feelings, right? It was discipline! Discipline!" He begs, sweat beginning to drip down his forehead. He blinks rapidly, licking his lips as his eyes dart about the room. "Nobody has ever recovered from one of my obliviates before, er- what I mean is, you wouldn't be in pain if you didn't throw it off! I can obliviate you again and this will be all over, no hard feelings!"

I growl low and guttural as I spit in his face, sneering angrily, "No hard feelings? No hard feelings?" I cry hysterically, magical winds whipping at my hair. "Where the fuck do you get off thinking that? You putrid, foul, disgusting pile of shit. You absolute waste of skin! No hard feelings?" I burst into maddening laughter, the crazed sound echoing eerily off the walls.

"No hard feelings he says. No. Hard. Feelings. Do you say that to all of your victims?" I inquire, eyebrow raised. "Oh, I'm so sorry that I violated you. I'm so terribly sorry that I raped you, body and mind. That's not going to cut it today Lockhart. Today is the day I kill you."

He pales dramatically, his face turning to the same porcelain shade as the toilets I've baptized this past month. "K-k- kill!?" He squeals, pleading and groveling for his life. "You- you wouldn't kill me, w- would you? G- Gilderoy Lockhart? I- I've done so much for the world! Saved so many people!"

I laugh harshly. "You mean stealing the tales from the real heroes and then obliviating them until they're vegetative?" I bark, watching as he pales even more. "Not a chance in hell, Gilderoy."

"Go to hell you fucking scumbag," I snarl. I pepper him with a few air bullets, grimacing at his cries of pain. I realize quickly that I don't have the stomach for torture, slashing my hand down and slicing his body with a sharp gust of air, watching as it cleaves through him, a squeak of fear slipping out of his mouth as his head is removed from its shoulders.

I have to hold back a retch as blood sprays profusely from the empty stump, his head striking the floor with a heavy thud. I nudge it with my foot, turning it over to see his face. Wide eyed, mouth open, a few flecks of sweat and grime on his forehead. Terrified, and for good reason. My stomach knots and twists as I stare dumbly at his disembodied head, and it stares back at me.

I stand there for who knows how long, just gazing into those empty blue eyes. I watch as the blood drains from his neck and his face turns ashen pale, devoid of life.

I lift my hand to my face, noticing that it's shaking wildly. I pat myself on the arms, head and legs. I'm shaking all over. My knee is bouncing relentlessly, the floorboards beneath me quivering under its nervous onslaught.

I look at the body again, and I start to panic. Thinking quickly, I vanish everything, casting countless scouring and sanitization charms to make sure that everything is taken care of, double checking to make sure there's no trace of my 'work.'

I throw my cloak on, terrified that I'm about to be caught. I rush back to my dorm room, dashing through the halls and doing my best not to knock into a patrol in my frantic sprint. I watch the whole while out of the corner of my eye, expecting Dumbledore to leap out in front of me, crying out to the world my misdeeds and sins.

I breathe a deep sigh of relief as I make it back to my room safely, having not run into Filch, Dumbledore, or any of the Professors.

I cast a silencing charm on the bathroom, turning the shower on and crawling into it, propping myself up against the cold tiled wall.

I never wanted this.

I never wanted this life… I never wanted to have to do these things. Did I- did I even have to do what I did tonight? Was it necessary? Was this some sort of step towards healing, or am I just trying to convince myself that it's okay to murder someone, even if they've violated me or others? Is this disgust… this anger, is it because of Dumbledore's teachings?

Second chances above all else, and the golden rule: stunners only. No killing, no maiming, no dismembering. Is this my own disgust, or is it his?

I close my eyes, trying to ignore the pounding in my head.

I guess I could have let Snape go after him. He did offer… but I wanted to be the one to do it. I wanted to put him down, for him to know it was me. What the hell does that make me? What the hell am I going to do in the future if there's a war? How am I… how am I going to get used to this?

What am I turning into?

Edited, 04/06/2018.