He was a stupid, bloody, idiot. That was the main conclusion of his research so far. He couldn't have botched up time more than he had, that was for sure. Cursing Pettigrew. Daring the Marauders into a prank war. Getting this freaking spotlight onto him that just wouldn't go away, once the rumours started spreading... Showing progress far beyond his age. Rudely ignoring everyone he knew to be a Death-Eater, clenching his fist when anyone he shouldn't know got nearby. Dumbledore had to be suspicious by now. He couldn't guess of what, but much too often he caught the head-master looking at him. He tried to ignore those looks.
He had still no idea how he arrived here, let alone how to get back, but in truth he had expected that much. Dumbledore had told him the very first moment he woke up in the Hospital Wing; that what he'd experienced, was unheard off. No wonder it wasn't noted down in one of the books in the Library.
The only thing that had been of any use to him were the warnings, may one find himself in another time. Never go looking for people you know or know off. Never leave your tracks, either in mud or in minds. Hide your existence, don't distract anyone from what he or she is doing, go back as soon as you can. His very presence would alter the future in unexpected ways, if he wished to attempt to leave the time-lines unscathed, he was doomed to fail. Needless to say, this wasn't very reassuring.
Then there were his schoolmates. In four of his classes – Potions, Charms, Herbology and Care for Magical Creatures, all classes shared with the Slytherins, obviously – were not one, but two to him familiar Death-Eaters. One of them he only knew by name – and to his surprise, wasn't as arrogant or evil as he'd expected. That was Regulus Black, Sirius' little brother, according to the latter he failed at one of his master's requests and had to pay the price for it, the price of his head.
The second one, he was better acquainted with, though him as well Fred only recognized by name. He was the one who taught him quite a few defensive spells, and later lead his friend Harry into what was supposed to be a death trap, but as always the Boy-Who-Lived came out alive and well. Cedric didn't. He'd Scabbers to thank for that.
Futhermore, this was one of the merry foursome who would torture dear Alice – now still Bredwell – and Frank Longbottom – who he'd spotted at the Gryffindor table the other day – to insanity, leaving an insecure hero behind. And last but not least, his father would be Percy's deranged employer.
The second one was Barty Crouch.
As if that wasn't enough, he'd walked into his namesake once – Uncle Gideon, and his twin, Uncle Fabian –, brushed along Andromeda Black, met some more dead Order members and their murderers… and then there was Snape. He would've pitied him, weren't it he hated him so much…
Snape with the doubtful alliances. Snape-who-made-them-fail-potions. Snape the Gryffindor hater. Snape, who had a good reason to hate who'd held Hogwarts in a reign of terror. Snape without friends. Snape who killed Dumbledore. Snape who was being mercilessly bullied by the Marauders. Snape who'd cut off his brother's ear…
George could've died back then. He may have shrugged it off, they may have joked about it – what was one little ear against the fate of the universe? – but one inch to the right, and his twin brother would've been dead. He wouldn't have a twin anymore. He wouldn't be a twin anymore. Instead of him, George might've been here, and he might've been haunting George dreams, instead of the other way around. Though, if George thought he were dead, he was pretty sure George would dream about him too. He would. They would – they did – dream about each other.
If Snape had murdered George that night, Fred didn't know how he would have reacted. Would he want revenge? Would he stop wanting anything, becoming complete stoic to the world? Either way, Snape obviously hadn't cared. Dumbledore had trusted him, but Snape was just as cruel as the rest of them. A traitor, actually, just like Pettigrew.
He wanted to seek revenge on the both of them, but rationally knew that wasn't a good idea. That it would only ruin the future further. Maybe another time, when he'd found a way to get back, or when everything was already so shattered than it didn't really matter what he did anymore, as he would have as much knowledge of the future as the next person.
Pettigrew was positively frightened of him ever since he left the Hospital Wing. He didn't know what he'd said to his friends, but they, too, seemed to avoid him, which honestly was kind of convenient. The truce was still standing, and in spite of Lazzaro's constant pleas for some fun and entertainment, Fred wasn't planning on resuming their war any time soon. Actually, it had disappointed him, as he'd hoped it would take his mind off the painful absence of his brother but it had done quite the opposite. Pranking reminded him whom he used to prank with, of better times that might never come again, and that was the least he needed right now.
Right now he needed to focus on maintaining that future, and finding a way back home, however impossible that seemed. So that's how he'd spend the past few weeks…
Spending more time in the Library than in all his Hogwarts years combined – which simultaneously provided an excuse for knowing all those spells –, following his lessons without raising more suspicion and keeping friends with Lazzaro and Thomas, whose company was one of the few positive things of being in the past. He might try to find them, when he got back, and look if they could still remembered him. That would be fun. Especially since Lazzaro was in all likelihood Blaise's father, Fred would just love to see the latter's face. But if they remembered him, Pettigrew certainly would, and that might scare him away from ever becoming Percy's pet – which in itself would be a relief, but what where the consequences? Would he make it easier for him to revive his master? Would Sirius ever get out of Azkaban? Would he even ever get in this time around… What if Harry's parents were still alive, what if Voldemort wasn't ever defeated in the first place!? Who would be the Chosen One then?
He didn't know. He didn't bloody know, so he just put his mind on researching the magical supernatural and trying to forget about the rest. Forgetting that George wasn't by his side. He wasn't just studying – knowledge for knowledge's sake, as Hermoine liked to do –, he was working towards a solution, which was how he dealt with all his problems. It was the only way he could deal with missing George.
"The Flamel Effect: How Splitting Stones From Highly Magical Areas Can Cause Magical Incidents. Interesting. Do you need this to catch up with the rest?"
Fred tensed up immediately, half from the startling effect of being sneaked up on, and half from simply hating the person who'd done so. Only a younger, more naïve Snape would do something like this.
"Shouldn't you be washing your hair or something? It smells." Although he knew now how low that remark was, he just didn't want to talk right now. Not to anyone, and least of all to someone who would end up attempting to kill his brother.
"Fred! Take that back! Severus was only being nice!"
He looked up from his book in utter befuddlement, straight into Harry's bright green eyes. They scowled at him beratingly. Why was Lily defending Snape?
Snape crossed his arms and glared at the red-head in a way that suggested – if Snape had blood like a normal human being – he would shine red with embarrassment. "You're not studying at all, are you? You're planning your next 'joke'," he spat the word 'joke' if it were something vile, "on the Marauders, which make you just like them." The last bit was said with a bit of disappointment in his voice, as if he'd expected Fred to be different, just because he was reading a book.
"Well, sorry for not living up to your expectations," he replied, with a bit of a bite in his voice, "but, yes, I am a prankster. Which I believed I made pretty clear on my first day here."
"Then why are you studying so often?" Lily asked, with a hint of sympathy in her voice. That made him look up again, bemusedly. Why this interest in him? He'd just snapped at them, hadn't he, quite crudely.
"A… prankster need to study to play pranks." he responded, not very convincingly. He then made a vague head-gesture to Snape. "What he said… in fact."
"Fred," the inquisitive girl turned on her chair, facing Fred directly. "Is there anything wrong? I know it can be hard to suddenly enter a magical environment, and then you're entering one and a half year late." she smiled a smile he often dubbed 'the empathic-girl-smile', which made him quite nervous, as he didn't tend to see himself as the guy who craved empathy. She went on, "I'm Muggle-born myself, you see, though I knew I was a witch early on. Severus told me." Severus told her?
"If you've problems with adjusting, or catching up, or if Potter and his band are bothering you, you can just tell me, okay? A know you have your own friends – Thomas and Lazzaro are very nice – but if there's anything you don't want to bother them with… You just seem troubled, that's all."
He let out a genuine chuckle, one that hopefully told her he really didn't need her to stick up for him. "I'm sorry, I appreciate the gesture, but you're taking me for the wrong type of person. I can manage myself, no worries."
Her expression turned sterner, serious. "I heard Lazzaro say you're having nightmares. You're having me worried."
"Oh." So he was tossing in his sleep, great to know. Really, Lazzaro… he was a great friend, but not the one to keep his trap shut when needed. Fred shook his head in a hopefully reassuring manner. "But there really isn't any reason to worry yourself about. Everyone has nightmares from time to time, haven't they?"
"You have them, every, night."
Fred didn't know an answer to that; so he just resumed reading.
After a few minutes of silence, in which, unfortunately, Fred hadn't heard them leave, Snape's voice startled him again, though he was not right behind his back now, thank Merlin.
"How come you're so good at spells?"
"Merlin, Snape! You're going to give a heart-attack one day, I swear!" Fred exclaimed dramatically at Snape's monotone question. The latter rolled his eyes.
"I'll ignore what you said earlier. How come you're so at spells? You're younger than us, have been here little over a month, and yet you've everyone saying how great you are. How come!?" Finally a faint shimmer of emotion came through, something that hold middle between impatience and jealousy. Would Snape be jealous because he was better at spells than him?
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Fred hadn't looked up from his book.
"Potter is afraid of you! Black is afraid of you! They all seem to hate you but don't dare a thing!" Still not looking up, the hurt was clear as he winced at the names. Sirius. Harry's dad. They still hated him for what he did to Pettigrew.
Pushing these thoughts aside – it was impossible to explain and make up with his former heroes – Fred noticed the emotion of the boy in front of him. Was that why Snape was jealous? That, even though the Marauders disliked the both of them, Snape was pranked and bullied every day, while Fred seemed to be avoided with the greatest care? That Fred apparently frightened them, while he was seen as nothing but a weak, pitiful little creep?
Again, he said nothing, and continued reading.
Therefore, he didn't notice Snape getting his wand out, and pointing it at him. Had he actually looked up to reply, he might have seen Lily widening her eyes in shock just a moment before he heard Snape call out, "Legilimens!"
Never before, Fred had experienced something quite as intruding as this. Thoughts and memories flew by in flashes, while a fourteen year old Snape was there with him, not knowing what to do in the panicked, uncoordinated whirlwind of Fred'smind. Neither of them had any control as they went deeper and deeper; Fred and George running for dear life followed by a seething Charlie, unrelated laughter suspiciously like his own, Snape's vicious remarks at the end of fifth year, simultaneous pacing as they worried for Ginny's life, Angelina crawling onto him, kissing him heatedly…
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!?"
Fortunately for them both, Fred's anger drew them out of the intimate scene before anything more could be seen. Snape staggered backwards, eyes wide, mouth agape, redder than Fred had ever imagined him. Fred didn't bloody care. He realised he was on his feet now, wand out and ready.
"I… I-I-I didn't know…"
"YOU DIDN'T KNOW!? YOU DIDN'T KNOW WHAT NOW!? SO YOU DECIDED TO JUST EXPERIMENT ON ME!?"
Snape opened his mouth, not knowing how to apologize, then frowned bemusedly, absorbed by the impossibility of the things he'd just witnessed and his shock and shame suddenly forgotten.
"Why are you older in your memories than you are now?"
Fred's grip on his wand tightened. He would not let this brother-killing, snakelike, backstabbing bastard ruin his only chance of finding his way home. "Wouldn't you like to know," he sneered, "Ever heard of the word 'privacy'!? My memories are my business, so keep your oversized nose OUT OF IT!"
Fearing Fred would attack him, Lily grasped Snape's sleeve before he could retort. "Sev, what did you do?" she asked sternly.
He wanted to reply, but Fred beat him to it. "Legilimency. He intruded my mind and saw some of my memories. Memories no one should have seen."
She gasped in shock, but Snape seemed to be oblivious both of them. "You lied to us. You have been at Hogwarts before and you were older –"
"Severus, you better apologize to him." Lily cut in sharply, half out of indignation but also out of concern for her friend; Fred still was holding his wand and looked downright murderous.
Snape, however, jerked his arm away from her, upset that his message didn't come through. "No, Lily, listen to me! He is not who he says he is! He is older!" he became silent one moment, as another aspect stroke his mind, "Who was that black-haired Potions teacher?"
"None of your concern." Fred snarled back.
"If you don't tell me I'll go to Dumbledore!" Fred froze. Dumbledore couldn't know. If he knew, he would see him as a danger to the school. As an enemy. All frail trust he had left, would be devastated, and Dumbledore would want to know everything, and use his knowledge to destroy Voldemort. But who would pay the prize? What kind of tasks would he deem Ron and Harry to, if even they would exist? How could he trust a man who'd sent his little brother on a life-threatening mission that he wasn't even allowed to talk with his family about? In fact, Fred didn't know a thing of what they'd been doing, but it was exactly because of that why his chances of saving his future were so slim. If only he'd known, he could have helped them, and he would be able to help them now. If he'd known, he could have trusted Dumbledore.
"It's me, isn't it?" Fred's attention snapped back to Snape. "You thought of him as Snape. My father is a Muggle, I'm the only magical Snape around. That means… you're from the future." And there it was, the truth. Snape had figured it out. Snape.
"So what do you want to do?" He managed to sound defeated yet daring at the same time, though Snape was unfazed anyway.
"Dumbledore can also do Legilimency, you know? If you don't want him to discover your secrets, you should learn Occlumency, or he can get all you trying to hide right out of your head."
That had Fred silent for a while. He sat back in his chair and finally let loose of his wand, lowering it slowly on the table. Dumbledore could read his mind, and would probably do a much better job at it than a fourteen year old Snape. If Snape hadn't told him – if Snape hadn't found out he came from the future – he wouldn't have had any idea of it until it was too late. Snape had practically saved him by telling him.
"Wait… Is it true then? You actually are from the future?" Lily's question got Fred out of his daze, and he grabbed his wand and pointed it at the other end of the room. Momentarily she was afraid he had changed his mind and would hex them, but instead he mumbled some unknown curse that, frankly, didn't seem to have any effect.
"Muffliato," he clarified, "keeps unwanted ears from overhearing sensitive matters." He laid his wand arm down. "And yes, I am from the future. A future you've probably pretty much ruined by finding out."
"Oh," she said, a little downcast, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." he told her, sending an accusing look to Snape. "You weren't the one deciding to 'penetrate my mind'." The implied person clenched his jaw nervously. "Though I have to thank you for warning me, I guess." Fred admitted begrudgingly.
"I just knew you were hiding something from us, and with all the gossip going around, I didn't trust you." Fred snorted, he knew the gossip. "It was the first time I cast the spell."
"So you practically were experimenting on me?" Fred raised one eyebrow.
"I've researched it all year! I knew what it would do!"
Fred snorted. "Leave it. I shouldn't be the one accusing anyway, experimenting concerned."
Lily frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Fred thought of the many times Hermione had scolded them for testing out their products on ickle, fragile first years – not that they did mind, they accepted their generous payment eagerly. "Nothing."
"Then why are you here?" Snape's distrust was still clear in his voice. After all, the only thing that was certain, was that he'd lied.
"I don't know." Snape gritted his teeth, half from nerves and half from annoyance, dependent of Fred turned out to be dangerous or not.
"What do you mean, you don't know?" Lily asked, trying to be sympathetic, but it rather rubbed Fred the wrong way.
"I don't know, okay!? I have no freaking idea what happened, that's what I'm trying to find out!"
"Then what are the nightmares about?"
Fred put his fingers deep in his fire-red hair, and gave the two an ice-cold glare, knowing that what they wanted to know would shock them, which was the only reason for him to concede. "I died." he told them harshly. "I don't know if they ever found a body, but if I weren't here, I would've positively died, and for others it would seem like I did. I left people behind. If they still exist, they will think I'm dead."
Lily and Severus didn't quite know what to say to that, so only a tense silence remained. It wasn't broken until Fred exhaled and looked away, letting his arms fall in his lap and nodding at the still open book. "There was a lot of broken stone involved."
His voice sounded tight, and they understood more prodding was neither appropriate, nor fruitful.
"We can help you." Lily suggested. Fred shook his head absentmindedly, his eyes tired yet restless. "I'm sure Severus can help you learn Occlumency, if you want to."
Fred grimaced. Snape was the last person now he wanted him to teach. But if he wished to keep Dumbledore from discovering the truth, he guessed he had no choice.
Severus shrank back at the hostile glare he then received, but his exterior remained stoic. To his surprise, Fred accepted, with the utmost reluctance, but still. "But no questions about the things you see, no talking to anybody and when you see anything too private, or relevant to your future, you step out immediately and try to forget it. I don't want you changing the future because of the things you see. Is that clear!?"
Snape nodded, but nonetheless raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem too happy about me helping out?"
"That's because I am not." Snape slightly stepped back when Fred hissed his response, staring at him as if he'd rather violently murder him than giving Snape another chance to look into his brain. But he couldn't kill him, as that would disrupt the course of time. Still, Severus didn't feel very safe at the prospect of meeting this boy – this man, he was definitely older and more experienced than he looked – regularly, to train their receptive Legilimency and Occlumency skills.
"Well, that's convenient, because I don't like you either." he responded coldly, causing Lily to groan. Well, she could hardly blame him, could she? He had been perfectly friendly to Fred before, he was the one acting hostile.
Fred rose resolutely from his chair. "Good. When and where will we see each other?"
"Tomorrow after lessons, the empty classroom near Transfiguration."
"I've got a better idea, do you know the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor?"
Lily and Snape shared a look, neither of them having heard of it. Lily suggested, "The Arithmancy classroom is on the seventh floor, what about we gather there and then you can show us the way to that portrait?"
He nodded, and stared at them intently. After a second, he rose his eyebrows and said in an impatient tone. "Alright, see you there." When they still didn't leave, he scowled at them, "Are you going anywhere now, or are you just going to stand there!?"
"We'll stay here for a bit, I think." Lily answered, deciding to ignore the sarcasm and take his question serious, "We were planning on doing some home-work together."
Fred grunted and rolled his eyes, before hastily throwing his things in a bag and leaving for the Gryffindor Common Room. It wasn't likely he'd get any research done there, but at least Thomas and Lazzaro wouldn't be pestering him with interrogations and uncalled-for help.
After he'd left, Lily wondered whether to be disappointed or not. She only wanted to be nice to a fellow student, and perhaps give Severus a chance of befriending someone who didn't blindly follow the Marauders, but that plan had went horribly askew. Yet, at the same time, she'd gotten so much more than she'd bargained for. Fred came from the future, and with every step he took, there was a risk he would annihilate the future he came from. He might never see his family back. No wonder he didn't want anyone to know about himself. And yet, now they did.
That night, Fred would dream of the Room of Requirement, the version of the room in which the Vanishing Cabinet stood they'd once pushed Montague in. The entire room was in ashes.
He felt he was looking for something, something small, something important, something beyond crucial that was hidden somewhere in the enormous blackened hall. That Harry had hidden there. He was livid with Harry, a sentiment that startled him. Before he saw he wasn't himself; he was George again. It was George desperately digging through piles of burned stock, not knowing where else to look, livid with Harry for hiding it. It. Afterwards, Fred wouldn't remember what it was.