Chapter 13
This is here:
"Harry?" Remus asked as he entered the kitchen.
The young man barely glanced up from the cup of tea he was holding, merely nodding slightly.
"Water's still hot if you want some tea," Harry said in a low voice, and then, even more softly, "I couldn't sleep."
"Same here," Remus said cheerfully and sat down opposite the young wizard. "That's just as well since it's the Full Moon in a week and I'll get more sleep then than I'll ever want. Harry..."
"Yes?"
"In your world... In your reality... Am I a werewolf?"
Harry raised his head. "Yes, you are," he answered, adding, "I'm sorry. But you're happy, really, you are. You're engaged. You've got a job, and a house."
"Engaged," Remus repeated. "To whom?"
"Tonks. Nymphadora Tonks. D'you know her?"
Remus smiled, a bit sadly. "Yes. Yes, I do."
"Ah."
Harry took a sip from his cup. "You're happy," he finally said. "At least I think you are. What about here? Are you happy?"
"To be honest, I haven't much thought about it," Remus admitted. "I try not to think about it; this life right now doesn't really lend itself to thoughts about... that."
"I can't stand it," Harry whispered roughly. "And it's not even my life. And I miss -" he interrupted himself and bit his lip.
"Harry?" the other man prompted.
"Severus. I miss Severus."
This isn't:
The next day was a Monday and that meant Quidditch practice for Harry – who was now more glad than ever he'd never even considered a career as a professional Quidditch player – and an Order meeting in the evening for Harry and Severus both.
Severus, Harry knew, would spend most of the day researching Time Turners and how they could go about obtaining one. The problem was not that it was impossible to manufacture extremely powerful Time Turners, as the older wizard had explained to Harry over breakfast; no, the problem was that the use of such magical devices was heavily restricted and Time Turners that went beyond 24 hours had been outlawed by the Ministry of Magic in 1823 following some very embarrassing incidents; the possible damage one could havoc with them had simply been considered as too great.
Still, it might be that some ancient wizarding families had kept their Time Turners – although illegally – because they were symbols of power and prestige. Severus thought that with enough research and checking of old Ministry records they could find one of those families and then persuade them to let Harry and Severus borrow it for a little while.
Needless to say that Harry had been a bit skeptical about Severus' plan; but as he himself did not have a better solution either he'd kept silent about his doubts. Added to that was the fact that he had been a bit preoccupied while mechanically drinking tea and munching on some toast. For the life of him Harry could not manage to push his late-night encounter with Severus in the hallway the day before out of his mind.
Harry thought about nothing else all day: Running laps around the Quidditch Pitch and he remembered the heat radiating off the other wizard; trading absent-minded jokes of quite a lewd nature with Oliver during lunch and he recalled with perfect clarity the low timbre of Severus' voice and the hesitation in it; standing in the shower after practice and Harry could think of nothing else but Severus' dark glittering eyes and the shadows dancing on his face.
He wasn't used to being distracted like that; and he'd never felt this strange inability to focus because of another person, least of all another man. With Ginny, well... Harry was sure that he'd never obsessed about her like that, and the only hint that clued him in on his feelings for her had been the insane jealousy that had sprung up whenever she'd been around other boys. Severus, on the other hand – then again, he wasn't interested in Severus like that, couldn't be interested in Severus like that. Severus already had a lover. Yeah, yourself, Harry's traitorous mind whispered – and the Snape from his own reality was still a nasty piece of work, not to mention that Severus Snape was still undeniably male.
So did that make him gay now?
Furtively glancing at the other team players around him, Harry mustered their naked bodies one by one. He'd seen his share of naked boys at Hogwarts, of course, but perhaps he'd see things in a different light now? However, apart from noticing that Edward, one of Puddlemere's reserve beaters, had the Ravenclaw eagle tattooed on his right shoulder blade and that Oliver had a piercing in a place he'd rather not further contemplate, Harry found that these bodies – naked, toned bodies glistening with water he droplets from the shower – didn't do anything for him. At all. The memory of Severus' unflinching eyes, boring into his, on the other hand, sent a delicious shiver down Harry's spine.
Perhaps it's possible to be obsessed with people without liking them that way? he asked himself as he left the changing rooms, Or you've just been here way too long and it's starting to interfere with your sanity; what's left of it anyway.
Severus was waiting in the lobby for him, looking sombre and disturbingly appealing. Harry mumbled a curt greeting and avoided his eyes as they Apparated to Godric's Hollow – he couldn't help but notice, however, that his hand was tingling from where the other wizard had gripped it during the Side-Along Apparation, and that his cheeks were burning.
Lowering his head to hide the blush Harry was sure he was currently sporting, he entered the house and hoped that this whole – thing would prove to be a temporary condition, over by the next day.
Harry greeted Remus and sat next to him at the table with a smile, suddenly feeling very relieved that there was one other person in the room who knew about this whole ordeal. Although he'd spent quite some time in this alternative reality by now Harry still didn't know how to act 'properly' around people sometimes, and he was constantly second-guessing himself. What would the other Harry have done in this situation? Over the past week he'd slowly grown used to his Quidditch team mates, even going so far as to banter with Oliver Wood, calling the girls 'love' and generally being more camp than he'd ever thought he could be.
This here was different, however: He'd met most of the Order members only once so far, and there was a wealth of history – especially with people like Neville or his mother – that Harry couldn't even begin to grasp.
Sitting quite at the end of the table Harry only now noticed that the seating seemed to follow some unofficial form of ranks within the Order: Neville, his father and Dumbledore were sat at the very end of the table, close to the lit fireplace. Then came Lily, Sirius – and Regulus Black, dressed resplendently in midnight blue robes. Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Emmeline Vance, the Weasleys... Some people Harry didn't know. Remus, Severus and Harry were seated nearest to the door, furthest away from Dumbledore and Neville; and while both men were chatting amiably to the Order members around them, Harry's and Severus' entrance into the room had gone largely unnoticed.
Largely – but not completely. Regulus was now rising gracefully from his chair, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder and whispering something into his ear before making his way over to them.
"How do you do, Harry, Severus?" he asked pleasantly and Harry couldn't prevent a flush spreading across his face.
"How do you do," Severus answered, achingly polite.
Harry, on the other hand, just nodded mutely, grimaced and grabbed Severus' hand. Severus squeezed back gently but his eyes never left Regulus' face as the other wizard inclined his head slightly, turned around and left.
"Did I miss something here?" asked Remus just as Dumbledore stood up to officially begin the meeting.
Harry spent most of his time observing the Order members he know from his own reality and trying to discern visible differences. He wasn't terribly successful in this in most cases: Tonks, for instance, looked just as vibrant and lively as he remembered her being, and Moody was the same old suspicious wizard as ever. Bill Weasley, on the other hand, lacked the disfiguring scars on his face – and hadn't Mrs Weasley said something about him needing Wolfsbane Potion that day in Diagon Alley?
His own mother also fascinated Harry, but not as much as he would have thought. Seeing Lily Potter alive was in many ways a revelation for him: Watching her speak and laugh, taking note of her mannerisms, the way she gesticulated with her hands as she spoke... Still, Harry felt strangely detached from her. She was his mother, true, but for the first time he became aware of the fact that his mother had been dead for the last nineteen years; he'd never known her, would never know her, and while Harry missed having a mother he could not miss this woman before him, Lily Potter.
She was a stranger to him.
"But why can't I take some of the shifts?" Neville's loud question interrupted Harry's musings. "I've got the time and what's more, I want to do it!"
"Neville," Frank Longbottom said sharply, "If you – training to become an Auror! - were detected loitering in front of the Department of Mysteries... Do you have any idea of the repercussions?"
"But I'm the bloody boy who lived!" the younger wizard argued and Harry flinched. "They'd never sack me!"
"We've been over this before," Lily interrupted, "And I don't think the situation has changed since then."
"Exactly," Sirius muttered.
"But -"
"Have you practised your Occlumency, boy?" Regulus drawled lazily and now Harry was all ears. He didn't even consciously notice that he was still holding Severus' hand, now gripping it tightly with anxiety. He knew this... He knew what this was about.
Neville flushed but nodded defiantly.
"Really?" Regulus persisted, "I can tell whether you're lying, remember."
"What's it to you?" Neville burst out angrily, "You're not teaching me anymore so it's none of your business!"
Harry, watching the whole exchange with wide eyes, was vividly reminded of himself and Snape several years ago, when Snape had tried to teach Occlumency to his younger self – in vain, of course. Occlumency required quite subtle magic; and if the one learning it wasn't truly motivated to do so then no amount of practice could create those skills. Harry himself had learned both – Occlumency and Legilimency – in record time on sheer determination alone during the endless summer after his sixth and final year at Hogwarts.
"Oh, but it is my business and what's more -"
Dumbledore interrupted the argument quietly but firmly. "I think that is quite enough now. Neville is right, we do have to guard the Department of Mysteries more closely – after all, there's all sorts of exciting things tucked away in there."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and Harry suddenly had a stroke of genius.
He stuck up his free hand. "I can take some of the shifts!"
Realisation that he'd probably sounded too enthusiastic to be completely in character came a bit too late. Everybody in the room was now staring at him; Dumbledore's glasses nearly slipped down his nose before he absent-mindedly pushed them up again with his long fingers.
Harry slowly lowered his hand and grinned weakly. "I don't mind really."
"I don't know," Severus said carefully, "Whether to laugh or to cry."
Harry shrugged; to be honest, he didn't know either.
They were standing in front of the large fireplace, waiting to floo home after the Order meeting had ended. Harry would be on guard duty next weekend during three consecutive nights, as decreed by an alarmingly cheerful Albus Dumbledore.
Noticing Severus' thunderous expression Harry quickly sought to pacify the other man. "I'm not doing this for fun, Severus," he said earnestly, "Or because I'm trying to be brave or something. No, I just remembered – last time I was in the Department of Mysteries there was this, well, 'time' room; I didn't really get to explore it properly but I'm pretty sure there was this huge case, full of Time Turners! If I'm on duty there it'd be easy to just nick one – it's the perfect opportunity!"
"You've been in the Department of Mysteries?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow.
"In my fifth year. Listen, there's something else..."
Harry stopped abruptly as Lily approached the two of them, a smile on her face.
"Harry!" she said warmly and enveloped him in a warm hug, kissing him on both cheeks. Harry, quite at a loss how to deal with his mother who'd apparently decided to stop ignoring him, returned the embrace carefully. Severus, he noted, followed this exchange with an expression of puzzlement.
"Um, hi, mum," he mumbled.
Stepping back, Lily mustered Harry and said, "You've made me quite proud today! I'd never thought the day would come when you'd be ready to take on your responsibilities... But now, doing more work for the Order... Well done, Harry, well done."
"Thanks," Harry whispered, embarrassed.
"If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to Sirius and Regulus. Regulus thinks that Voldemort might be calling him soon – but he reported that during the meeting, didn't he – Anyway, you should come over for dinner soon, I haven't talked to you properly for so long."
"Sure, why not," Harry said, now a bit desperate, "I'd love to."
"I'll floo you," Lily answered, embracing Harry again and still managing to completely ignore Severus standing next to them.
Watching the witch cross the room Harry and Severus stared at each other, mildly shell-shocked at the complete change in personality Lily seemed to have undergone.
"What the...?" Harry muttered.
"Ah, but that makes you happy, doesn't it, Potter?" a voice behind him said nastily; it belonged to Neville. " Getting your mum's recognition, the lost son returning into his family's loving embrace."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said in what he hoped was a friendly tone. He didn't understand Neville's hostility, and he had no desire to return it.
"Oh, don't act stupid, it doesn't suit you," the other man snapped and Harry – now that they were standing close to each other – noticed how tired he looked, how weary. Neville's gaunt face had struck him right from the beginning but he'd blamed that on only remembering his own Neville as a friendly albeit slightly pudgy boy. There were deep bags under his eyes now though, standing out darkly on the pale face, and the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead was swollen, an angry red colour.
"Neville -" Harry began and reached out to touch the other man's arm. Neville flinched at the short contact; Harry, however, couldn't suppress a short gasp of pain as a searing hotness shot through his head. For only a moment he felt it all: anger, dark and ugly anger, mixed with triumph and so much hate.
Clutching his forehead with both hands Harry leaned against Severus with his eyes closed. He took deep breaths to steady himself and focused on the older wizard stroking his back soothingly.
When Harry opened his eyes again Neville had gone.
"What happened there, Harry?" Severus asked as soon as they'd reached the sanctuary of their own home.
Harry sunk down on the couch and rubbed his forehead distractedly. "I don't really know," he said, "This whole evening has been a bit of a mess from start to finish. But I think we have to watch out for Neville; I believe that Voldemort is trying to take over his mind."
Severus startled violently and nearly dropped the bottle of Firewhisky he was holding.
"How can you be sure about that?"
"I... When I touched him I felt – hate. Absolute hate," Harry explained quietly, "I've only ever felt that way before when Voldemort was trying to control me. You see, I think I know what he's planning. He did the same thing to me and it worked! We have to prevent that. If I'm right then Neville is going to go to the Department of Mysteries quite soon – I can stop him if I'm on duty there. That's what I wanted to tell you before my mother interrupted us."
"Harry..." Severus said, "If you're right... This could lead to disaster. We should warn the Order about this."
"And would they believe us?" Harry asked. "After all I can't prove what I felt – I don't even know why I did! I don't have a curse scar here, I shouldn't have a connection to Voldemort at all."
"Ah, but you took your magical consciousness with you when you came here. Voldemort has marked you more profoundly than you realise. His magic is a part of yourself, and the scar is only the visible mark of that fact. You're still a Parselmouth here, are you not?"
Harry nodded reluctantly and accepted the tumbler of Firewhisky that Severus offered him.
"So, in a way, you are still the boy who lived. Considering the prophecy this could have interesting implications, especially taking the magical exclusion principle into account..."
"I don't care about theoretical magic," Harry said, sipping at his whisky, "I'm more interested in finally going where I belong. If I stop Neville from being killed by Death Eaters on the way that's fine by me."
Severus looked down at the glass he was holding in his hands, turning it around slowly."
"Of course," he said softly, "That is what it's all about."
And before Harry could react or protest he'd got up and left the room.
The next two days passed in slow motion for Harry, made longer by anticipation and awkwardness. He and Severus hadn't really talked about what had happened on Monday and the silence hung heavily between them. Then again, why should they talk? They were not a couple; they weren't even friends. And weren't men supposed to forego the whole 'wanting to talk' thing anyway? Hermione was quite fond of it, talking 'emotional issues' over as she called it. Remus sometimes did as well, but that was just because Remus was a proper adult and a bit like a surrogate father to the three of them.
Ron and Harry, on the other hand, had developed their own coping mechanism: Ignore stuff until it eventually went away on its own, or, if all else failed, get mildly pissed at a pub together.
Harry doubted that this method would work with Severus however, and so he kept silent, concentrating on Quidditch instead. Not that he was particularly interested in team strategy or catching snitches in record time, but it kept his body fit and Severus would get to enjoy his returned lover in a top physical condition.
Meals at home were a stilted affair, with Harry staring morosely at his plate and Severus burying his nose in random books propped up against the water jug. At night Harry would lie awake for hours, staring into the darkness and missing his friends.
He wondered what they were doing at the moment. Had they worked out the mechanism of the bowl yet? Or was Hermione still researching it? And Ron, how was he getting on with the other Harry? Would he accept him as a friend or hate him on sight? Remus, too – had he come back from his trip yet? It wasn't easy for the werewolf, working for the Order of the Phoenix all the while pretending that Harry was missing, presumed dead.
And Voldemort, had he made another move? Or, worse yet, noticed that something was amiss? Harry didn't know whether Voldemort believed him to be dead; he hoped so but couldn't be completely sure.
And how long would it take for the other Harry to make his way twenty-five years into the past, back to that summer day? Years could have passed and his body would have aged, losing him so much in the process.
Harry preferred not to dwell on this possibility; it scared him more than he cared to admit to himself.
Friday night would be the night of Harry's guarding shift; on Thursday Severus finally broke the oppressive silence between them during dinner by clearing his throat and saying softly, "Listen, I've got something for you."
"Oh?" Harry raised his head from the stew that he'd only been poking at.
"I don't know if it's going to be of much help, but here..."
With these words Severus summoned a piece of parchment, unfolding it before him on the kitchen table. He pushed it towards Harry who looked at it curiously.
"It's, er, a map," Severus explained, "of the interior of the Department of Mysteries."
Harry's head snapped up and he stared at the other man for a moment before his gaze dropped to the parchment again. And indeed it was a map, and now he saw spidery writing on it, denoting the turning chamber with its many doors, the prophecy room...
"Where on Earth did you get that?" he breathed, "It's not called the Department of Mysteries for nothing!"
Severus shrugged and pushed his plate away, food forgotten for now.
"I have my resources," he said quietly, "And I know you've been there before, but I though this might help to refresh your memory. You won't have much time once you break in there – I expect there'll be charms against that sort of thing all over the place – and if you get lost... Well."
Not that Harry was perusing the map more intently he saw that the Department of Mysteries was far bigger than he'd expected it to be. It was huge, really, and the rooms he'd seen five years ago were apparently mere antechambers to something much larger.
"Merlin, Severus," he muttered, "If the Ministry ever finds out that you have this it'll be a one-way ticket to Azkaban for sure. I don't know how to thank you for this. I can't thank you for this."
"Nevertheless you're welcome," Severus said. "I... My behaviour these past few days..."
But Harry shushed him with a motion of his hand and shook his head.
"Let's just forget about it, all right?"
He smiled tentatively and was relieved to see that Severus smiled back after a moment's hesitation, his mouth curving slightly and his dark eyes shining.
The next night Harry's shift started at midnight.
Getting into the Ministry for Magic at this time shouldn't be a problem; there would be nobody to staff the welcome desks and even the most zealous workaholic should have left for a well-deserved weekend by then. Harry was preparing to floo there but Severus kept him back.
"You shouldn't floo. The Ministry is keeping track of the floo register these days and you could be detected."
"But how -" Harry began and Severus held out his wand to him, the dark wood gleaming in the candle light.
"Take it," he ordered. Seeing Harry's dumbfounded expression something softened in the other wizard's face and Harry's stomach did a sudden flip-flop.
"You do need a wand, Harry. You need to be able to defend yourself properly."
"But -"
"You've borrowed it before, no?"
"That was different," Harry mumbled, not exactly sure why it had been different. He hadn't liked Severus then, that was for sure. And he hadn't really cared about the other man's feelings. But now, using his wand suddenly became a thing of intimacy, something that he could hardly explain to himself.
"Take it," Severus repeated. "I can't come with you now and this way you can Apparate, leaving no trace of your coming and going."
Harry avoided Severus' eyes as he picked up the slender rod. A slight pulse of warmth seemed to emanate from it, comforting him with a trace of Severus' natural magic.
"Now, should anything happened, I do expect you to call me. Send your Patronus and I will come to you. Do you understand me?" Severus asked intently.
Harry nodded and swallowed thickly. He didn't know why, but this felt like the end of it – of what he didn't know, except that there was finality and the sadness inherent to it.
"Severus -" he began.
"You should go," the older wizard said briskly and the moment passed. Harry took a deep breath to centre himself and Apparated with a soft pop.
The lobby of the Ministry looked just like Harry remembered it, although it was now shrouded in darkness, the Fountain of Magical Brethren intact. No fight between Voldemort and Dumbledore had ever taken place here; this was not the building where his godfather had died five years ago.
The lift cage rattled loudly as it descended and Harry wished he'd remembered to cast a Silencing Charm. Then again, there was hopefully no-one left in the building to hear his noisy approach except the Order member he'd come to relieve.
Casting a quick Disillusionment Charm on himself, Harry stepped into the dark corridor and resisted casting Lumos as well. It felt good, doing magic again – he'd missed the conscious casting of spells and charms over the last few days. Flying on a broom and Occluding his mind was all very well, but nothing came close to the feeling of pure magic flowing through his body into his hand, wielding his wand like an extension of himself.
Arriving at the door that he still remembered from his dreams Harry whispered, "Hello?"
A moment later Frank Longbottom's head appeared in thin air, shortly followed by the rest of his body. He shouldn't have been able to see Harry – especially not in the half-darkness permeating the corridor – but he seemed to glare at him reproachfully nevertheless and Harry blushed.
"A little more sophistication if you please, Potter," he sniffed.
Harry cast the counter charm and became visible again; Mr Longbottom must have seen his puzzled expression because he suddenly sighed and shook his head.
"Never mind me, boy. Private joke between your father and me. Only you look so much like James – do excuse me, please."
"It's quite all right," Harry mumbled and accepted the invisibility cloak from the older man's hands.
"Good night and good luck then. I shall see you on Monday."
Harry wrapped himself in the cloak and sunk down on the floor, watching the other wizard disappear down the corridor. He settled himself in a more comfortable position; he'd decided to stick it out for an hour before actually entering the Department of Mysteries, to make sure that there really wouldn't be anybody left on this level by the time he'd finally enter the Department.
Time passed slowly in the darkness and the only thing Harry could hear was his own, even breathing. He was close, so close to getting home now... It seemed easy from here on: Get a Time Turner, get back to Severus' Yorkshire cottage and take the bowl with him when he would literally turn back time. And if ever the other Harry had figured out the same thing he would be there, waiting for him. They could look into their respective bowls simultaneously, use the Time Turners to get back to the future – and Harry would be home, where he belonged.
His friends would be waiting for him; and he'd be armed with the knowledge of the location of another horcrux, bringing them one step further on the road towards destroying Voldemort.
And then...
Harry hardly ever dared to dream about a time when he could be alive again, reclaim his place in the wizarding world. But suddenly he found the thought of living in a cottage just like Severus' quite appealing; and having an entirely mundane job might not be as exciting as being an Auror, but right now Harry nearly craved the repetitiveness that such a life might bring. In a way he envied the other Harry; he had that. He even had a partner to come home to at night, somebody to share a bed with. Even if that partner happened to be male – but that was something he would contemplate another day. Another world, even.
Harry shifted slightly and froze as a breeze wafted through the empty corridor.
Standing up, he lifted his wand and cocked his head. He hadn't heard anything, but that didn't mean that nobody was there – not everyone would forget their Silencing Charm like he had. Making a quick decision, he threw off the invisibility cloak, muttered, "Lumos" - and stared at the figure standing crouched against the opposite wall.
"Neville?" he asked. The other wizard was panting as if he'd just been running and he was holding his wand directly pointed at Harry. The look in his eyes was that of a scared animal, wide open and half-crazed.
"Let me through," Neville ordered in a surprisingly steady voice.
"Neville, what's wrong? Why are you here?"
Harry's thoughts raced as he tried to stall for time. He knew exactly why the young wizard had come to the Department of Mysteries tonight, although he didn't really want to contemplate the logical consequences. If Neville was here then that meant that Voldemort had succeeded in sending him fake visions – and it also mean that his Death Eaters were not far away.
Neville sneered. "Are you one of them, Potter? Did you help them capture my father? I should have know that something fishy was going on when you volunteered for those shifts... Are you a Death Eater?"
"No, you don't understand -"
"Step away from the door!"
"Neville -"
"Stupefy!"
And that was the last thing Harry heard before unconsciousness took him in her black embrace.