2. CONTEMPORANEOUS
The house looked different than he had left it the last time he had been home. If anything, it looked similar to how it had looked when he was young, before he had left to teach at Hogwarts. His mother's old knit blanket was draped over the back of the sofa and her old china was still in the cabinet that he had gotten rid of five years ago. A cracked picture frame with a family portrait inside stood on the mantle. He remembered cracking it, and he had never bothered to repair it.
He ventured over to the mantle and took the portrait in his hands, a Muggle photograph. He ran his fingers over the cracks that could've easily been repaired with magic. He looked at the portrait. His father, tall and overarching, stood on the left holding a young of about three. His mother stood on the other side with her arms around the both of them, a good six inches shorter than his father. It was a truly happy moment, the only one Snape could remember.
Dumbledore stood by the open door. He closed it quietly and Snape turned around. Snape was fighting back a dull lump in the back of his throat.
"This… this isn't how I left my house," he alleged, trying to sound as daunting as possible. They were the only words he could say.
Dumbledore stood silent for a second. Snape could tell he was carefully choosing his words as not to offend him.
"I… I am not sure if this is present time," Dumbledore murmured.
"What do you mean?" Snape asked with slight horror on his face. He looked at Dumbledore quizzically. Dumbledore's blue eyes had lost their twinkle, and he looked sorrowful as well.
Snape noticed an envelope lying on the very edge of the table. His hands shook. Surely this would give him his answer, but he was not sure he wanted to know.
He slowly walked to the edge of the table and took the envelope in his hands. His hands were shaking ferociously now, as he turned over the letter to open it. He didn't bother to read the name on the envelope. If it had been important, he would've remembered it.
He reluctantly took the letter out of the envelope and opened it. He couldn't bring himself to read it, though.
He handed the letter to Dumbledore, who stood at the other end of the table with an undecipherable look on his face. He looked pensive as he tipped his half-moon spectacles to the tip of his nose and took the letter.
"I don't want to know," Snape whispered.
Dumbledore peered at him over his spectacles.
"All right, read it," Snape said, holding his head in his hands. His stomach churned and he felt the sensation of his heart beating fast, albeit he was dead.
Snape watched Dumbledore's eyes scan the letter. He opened his mouth, and Snape's heartbeat sped.
"November 11th, 1981," Dumbledore whispered.