All recognisable characters and settings are the sole property of JK Rowling. We make no claim to ownership of Harry Potter, nor do we make profit from this endeavor. All original characters and settings are the sole properties of the writers of this story.
After the war, Severus takes a new position in the Department of Mysteries, researching ways to restore the Time Turners destroyed in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. An untimely explosion displaces him in much more than space and time.
This story is wildly AU and conceived by the ever imaginative Snapeswife1988, who recruited tambrathegreat into her madness on the facebook group Lovers of the Potions Master. We both hope you enjoy the story as much as we've enjoyed writing it
Chapter 1: Potions and Happenstance
Severus stood over a bubbling, boiling cauldron, his shoulder length locks covered his face in almost a veil. The steam rising from the cauldron hitting his face as he inhaled deeply. His thoughts were running rampant as his hands worked of their own accord, following steps that he had repeated multiple times in the past few months. Th fall of Lord Voldermort had almost been his demise, but it had given him his greatest gift, freedom to experiment on potions, freedom to do as he pleased and for once, he had no master.
He had decided after his tussle with death, that his disastrous year as Headmaster of Hogwarts would be his last at that institution. Kingsley Shacklebolt, still Minister for Magic was the person who had saved him from both Azkaban and a life of penury. He was offered freedom from the former institution if he devoted his considerable skills, both Potions and Dark Arts related to the seriously depleted Department of Mysteries. Eilene Snape had raised no fool, and Severus had not even blinked as he accepted both the position and the contingency.
The past few months had gone by in a blur, but every night was the same. A flash of memories, his failures, all of those he could have saved, and most recently, his almost death.
He had known the attack was coming. Twenty years of a spy had taught him well and being in proxemity with Nagini had given him a chance to obtain her venom for an antidote. So that night, and many others, in his hand and robes were unbreakable vials of potions. They ranged between the antidote, and various healing potions. After the trio had fled he had, very gently, ingested all of the potions one at a time before falling into unconsciousness again. While he slept, the potions, quite literally, did their magic.
When he woke in the eery silence of the Shack, after once again recognizing the fact that he was indeed the only person to care about his welfare, he had crawled to the window. The ruin of what had been his home for over twenty years was a shock to his already unsteady system. He watched the scene as the light changed from pearly grey to golden red. He had needed to see only one thing that the Dark Lord was indeed defeated, and then he would implement his own escape. Instead, as the sun peaked over the horizon, Shackelbolt and two twitchy, young Aurors entered the blood-stained room. They took him into custody with little fanfare, Shackelbolt's demeanor seemed more apologetic than official. The offer had been made not two days later, and only after Severus discovered just what a garrulous imbecile Potter really was.
As he sat in a holding cell inside the ministry he had been placed in he thought of his options. Life in Azkaban, or work for the ministry, and basically brew to his heart's content. The decisions, of course had come quite easy, although it was less of a pleasure to know that in just a short time he would see the likes of Potter, and Weasley going through these very halls. It was with a sigh of exasperation that he had called for the guard and taken to Kingsley. It still made his gut roil that it had happened in such a manner. That after all of the sacrifice, all of the pain, after everything he had done, they treated him as nothing more, than a common criminal. This in itself did nothing more than turn Severus' already deep seated anger into a bitter hatred of those around him.
His first task upon entering the Department of Mysteries had been and still was to create a potion that might act in the same way that the destroyed Time Turners had. He had been working on the project for the last two years with little promise. That was, until Longbottom, of all people, had attempted to hybridize (magically, of course, since they weren't even the same family) magical four o'clocks with the common Helianthus angustifolia. The result had been a plant that created what might have been described by one of those Muggle science fiction authors, as a quantum anomaly. In essence, the plants made time fluctuate slightly. Severus had actually magnified the fluctuation with the use of a potion commonly used to reproduce photographs. He now awaited the arrival of a supply of the plant, so that he might further his research.
As he stood stirring his latest batch of his potion he thought for a moment before placing a statis charm on it and moving to sit on the edge of his desk he crossed his arms. His robes, which were very smiliar to those he once taught in, hung around him, although they had much less volume. With a hand pinching the bridge of his nose he sighed rather loudly as he heard Neville's fumbling with the door.
"If you are entering Mr. Longbottom, please make it a quicker entrance." He said loudly before pointing his wand at the door, allowing it to swing open. "I don't have all day for your unreasonable nervousness."
"S-sorry, Professor." Longbottom said as he entered, his arms loaded with the distinctively rust and sage-coloured hybrids.
"It's Mr. Snape, Longbottom," Snape said wearily. "I no longer teach, as I am sure you are well aware."
Severus leaned on the bench, adjusting his stance to block Longbottom's path toward the potion. The younger man was worse than Nymphadora Tonks had been around a cauldron, all knees and elbows and prone to disastrous mishaps.
Longbottom moved towards Severus, his arms so overloaded that he was swaying dangerously. He bumped into Severus, but the potions master deftly caught the younger man by the arms and guided to the desk, where Lonbottom rather unceremoniously sat the plants down. Severus wouldn't have minded but the boy had placed the plants just on a stack of important parchments. They were the figures he had done just days before. Taken him days to figure out just how much of the plants to put in the potion, and as the water seeped slowly from the potted plants and onto Severus' papers his tolerance for the much younger man went out the window.
"Why you... dunderhe... buffoo... Mr. Longbottom," Snape spluttered, "Have you any idea the time those notes took me?" Severus nearly shouted in his professor's voice as he quickly moved the plant and assessed the damaged to the precious parchment.
He quickly jerked the sodden mess from underneath the plants causing Longbottom to stifle a yelp at the motion.
"Sorry 'bout that, Pro..." Longbottom swallowed audibly as Severus scowled at him over the ruined parchment. "Mr. Snape."
Severus tempered his ire at Longbottom, even though he wished to give full reign to his indignation, he needed Longbottom's plants to complete the potion. He sharply sucked in a deep breath through his nose, and exhaled slowly through his mouth. "It's of no consequence. I will simply re-work the arithmancy."
The calculations had taken him weeks to do. Snape felt a dull thud behind his eye, a precursor to a migraine. Longbottom, in the ensuing minutes, had walked plants and all, towards the potion. Into the still bubbling cauldron a leaf fell, along with a clump of earth, the special variety imported from the western United States that Pomona used for all hybrids. Sensing impending disaster, Severus dashed in front of the gormless idiot and took the full brunt of the potions explosion.
As the debris from the exploding cauldron, and a small portion of wall fell around them, Snape coughed loudly from the rather rough bump against his ribs that he received. Rubbing at the aching spot on his side, he stood, subconsciously patting himself to make sure all of his limbs were there. Once he was reassured that he was indeed whole, he turned to Longbottom. The accident prone young man had barely made it to his knees. He pulled himself up by using the granite work surface but seemed to collapse in embarrassment as soon as he reached his feet, walking to him Severus helped the young man to his feet, glaring at him all the while.
"Mr. Longbottom, since you have seen fit to destroy my potion, I believe I will take I upon myself to escort you out of the department rather than waiting for an auror to come and do so." Gripping the young man's arm in his hand he guided him out of the room, slamming the door to the room with a bang.
Severus escorted the younger man through the as yet unfamiliar halls, his ears still ringing from the blast, his clothes clinging wetly to him. He knew he was fortunate that the base was not caustic or particularly reactive, and that the plant material had not had proper time to steep. Possibly, of course, as with any new potion using new ingredients, one could never really predict with great accuracy the amount of time needed to create the desired effect. Severus ran through the stages of the last failed experiment, his grip loosening on Longbottom's arm as he did.
He guided them through a large archway, one that he did not remember crossing before, and realized, too late, that they were lost. Fighting the urge to let loose some of the viler epithets he had heard in his misspent youth on the streets of Cokeworth, he battened down his growing unease.
Longbottom, finally having regained his equilibrium, moved away from Severus. "Sir?"
"Yes, Mr. Longbottom," Severus bit out.
The younger man gave a huff of mirthless nerves as he asked, "Why don't you look like a bat anymore?" With that nonsequitor, Longbottom sank to his knees, looking for all the world as dunderheaded as Severus knew him to be.
He let out a long slow breath, doing his best to hold onto his last shred of self control before attempting to answer the query. "Mr. Longbottom, I no longer have the need, nor the want to wear my former robes. There are various reasons, but the most prevalent being that my new place of work isn't as cold, nor do I have to scare dunderheaded students into doing the assignments. I believe that you remember that particular motive, do you not?" he smirked and crossed his arms, in the same fashion as he would with his other robes.
Longbottom used his feet to push himself away from Snape; even after everything he had been through the man that had once been his professor still scared the daylights out of him. Swallowing viably he nodded in his stupid manner, sighing when his back touched the cool stone.
Severus left Longbottom as he was and walked a short way into the dark room. At the other end was a door made of a substance unlike any other in the Ministry. Severus gave it a hesitant push with his elbow. It swung open to a room consisting of several doorways, each made of the same shining substance as the door he had just opened. Surely one of these doors would lead to a main hallway.
He strode back to Longbottom, who seemed to be succumbing to more than a little shock from the blast, and heaved the man up by his arm. Longbottom exclaimed, "Hey!"
"Come, we must find some aid for you, and then send you on your way." Severus slung the younger man's arm over his shoulder and headed towards the door.
Once through, Longbottom seemed to recover a bit as he looked around much less owlishly than he had only seconds before they entered the room. "I-i don't think... I know this room. We came here when... S-sirius Black died... We should leave, Pr- Mr. Snape."
"What exactly do you believe I am attempting to do, Longbottom?" Severus asked testily, turning back the direction in which they came, only to see that the door had shut. The exit was now indistinguishable from the others.
With a huff Severus let out a long blow of air before running his hands through his long locks. He clicked his tongue against his teeth. How in Merlin's name…? Severus walked up the steps to the small platform where the seemingly clear archway sat. Peering around it from one side and then the other Severus lifted a quizzical brow. "This is what killed Sirius Black?"
Severus ran a curious hand over the whispering surface of the edifice, the veil parting slightly from the breeze of his action. Sounds increased as he drew even closer, curiosity overcoming his own fear. He had been near death many times, had experienced the beginnings of the process once, yet the stone structure still called him seductively. What would he see if he crossed the final threshold? Would Albus or his mother be waiting to embrace him?
Would... Lily?
The sounds behind the curtain increased, a soft sussurating noise, almost as if it were a telly tuned to the wrong station. It soothed him. He remembered the good nights with his father before drink had taken them all away, watching a horror film on the tiny box that sat in pride of place in the sitting room, falling asleep on his dad's knee only to wake when the soft white noise broke into his childish dreams of werewolves shaped like men, and giant spiders altered by radiation, not magic.
He stepped closer to the edifice, memories pulling at him through the veil, tearing at him in a way they never had before. He needed to see the other side. He wanted to know what that final destination was. His hand broke through the surface of the shimmering fabric of space, time or death and with a dawning sense of horror, he realized it was cold beyond... there... in death's realm.
As his hand went further and further into the veil he fell, the coldness consuming his body. However, he didn't see the familiar faces he had expected to instead he fell straight through and onto his knees. Around him were the sounds of battle. Screams explosions and gunfire echoed through the open field. The war whoops and the acrid taste and smells of gunpowder and blood filled the air. Severus opened his eyes and gasped. "Bloody hell, where am I?"