On the day of Harry's return to the past, Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin (first class), Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, was dead on his feet. He'd had an excruciatingly long evening of diplomacy at the ICW attempting to mediate a dispute between the Ministries of Britain and France. The meeting had originally been scheduled to begin after dinner and end shortly before midnight but a discussion that should have lasted for 15 minutes dissolved into an ugly exhibition of name-calling (what on earth the French representative meant by 'your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries' was beyond him) and childish tantrums and it had taken half a day for things to settle down. By the time the conference wrapped up, it was the early hours of the morning and all he wanted to do was get to his bed as soon as humanly possible.
After making his way back to England using international portkeys, and apparating back to Hogsmeade once he'd reached home soil, he had directly struck out for Hogwarts in the early morning glow, rather than stopping in at the Three Broomsticks for a quick nightcap as he would usually do. Previous experience had taught him that the crowd in the Broomsticks at this early hour were usually more than a little rambunctious and respect for him tended to be in shorter supply after the regulars had spent many hours imbibing the tipples of their choices. It was only a short while later, therefore, that he completed the final leg of his journey by climbing the winding, stone staircase to his personal chambers whereupon he shed his robes of station and dropped straight into his warm, comfortable bed, immediately falling into a deep sleep.
He had walked straight through his office on his way to bed and hadn't even glanced at the shelf that accommodated the few objects that usually captivated his attention. These objects were all of different shapes and sizes, were made of diverse materials and performed varying functions but they all had one thing in common – a link to The-Boy-Who-Lived. He was so late getting back that he'd completely missed seeing the object at the end of the shelf - a small silver, spindly thing that stood atop three narrow legs and puffed out clouds of smoke in a healthy rhythm - slow to a stop before gradually picking up speed again and regaining its previous pacing. As such Albus Dumbledore was never aware that Harry Potter had, for a few moments, died that evening, or even that he was no longer inside the carefully placed wards and monitors that surrounded number four, Privet Drive.
Due to the early hour of his arrival back at Hogwarts, it was rather later than usual the following morning when Dumbledore sat down at his generous, ornate desk and glanced over at the shelf. He frowned as he watched the objects work through their cycles of changes in their familiar ways and sighed disappointedly as he recalled the visits he'd paid to Privet Drive over the last few years. Despite the letters he'd written to Petunia Dursley following his first two house calls, she didn't seem to understand how important the boy was to the wizarding world and appeared to treat him in ways he wouldn't have thought family would treat their own blood.
Due to their lack of impact, he'd stopped writing those letters and had ruminated on calling in on her in person but, due to how busy he was with his multiple jobs, he had been forced to resort to simply turning up, healing, obliviating and leaving when the need had arisen on the couple of occasions since ceasing his missives. Fortunately, there hadn't been that many incidents and, based on the memories of his own childhood, the injuries to Harry hadn't been that severe, at least not when compared to the stories he'd heard from his own classmates growing up. His own mother and father had been wonderful to him and, whilst his father had been sent to prison for attacking the muggles that had tormented his sister, he'd never raised a hand to Albus himself.
With his gaze fixed on the clouds of smoke rising from the shelf, he wondered if he should intervene any further. Harry appeared to be fine judging by the rate at which the clouds were appearing, but the repeated visits to Little Whinging to heal the boy sat uneasily in his mind. Part of the reason he'd placed Harry with his relatives (aside from the blood protection provided by his Aunt) was to keep him away from the wizarding world and the celebrity status that would come from being The-Boy-Who-Lived. Albus needed Harry to be humble and ready to be guided into becoming what the wizarding world needed, not a meek shell, broken down by his callous relatives.
Although it was considered dark magic (and so he was loathed to do so), he pondered applying a compulsion to a future letter to ensure Harry's health. 'No,' he thought 'that's a step too far. One more letter if the need arises, then a face-to-face conversation. One last chance to do the right thing of their own accord'.
Of course, Albus never realised that Petunia refused to open any letter delivered by owl, and simply burnt them instead. She'd never seen the Headmaster's requests and reminders for kinder treatment of her nephew and now, she never would.
He watched for a moment longer then, content that nothing appeared to be amiss, he shook his head and got on with his day – the school year would be starting in a couple of weeks and the professors were due back the next day to prepare for their classes. He was a little put out to discover a message from Madam Pomfrey on his desk, indicating that Severus would not be returning on time, but relaxed once he understood that his Potions Master was in no danger. Too many of his future plans would ride on the intelligence Severus Snape could provide if Voldemort were to return as he suspected he would.
Putting the message to one side he made a mental note to send Severus something nice as a 'get well soon' gift. It never hurt to keep your spy on-side after all.
Harry had done as he was told and had spent the next two days resting up. He began to fill out and had already gained several pounds in weight and an inch in height thanks to regular meals and nutrient potions. His cheeks no longer appeared sunken, and colour had returned to his face. The bruising was now gone and the aches in his bones that he had always been aware of in his original timeline were non-existent - having his bones vanished and regrown fixed all the incorrect knitting together they had done over the course of his body naturally, and magically, healing several breakages on its own.
For the first time, he was pain-free and was beginning to feel comfortable in his younger body.
Once Madam Pomfrey had given him the all-clear he began walking around the neighbourhood several times a day to regain his strength, short distances at first but gradually increasing this, before progressing to jogging in the chill air of the early morning. He was pleased to find his stamina developed quite quickly and it wasn't long before he was healthier than he had ever been.
Severus had also granted Harry free reign over his small personal library after having warned him about a couple of nasty dark magic books first, and Harry took the opportunity to devour the knowledge in these tomes whenever possible. He'd come to regret his poor performance at school in his later life and, remembering the words of his mother, he vowed to himself that he wouldn't waste the opportunity this time around. He could see no attendance for Divination in his future.
It was three days after Madam Pomfrey had allowed him to resume activities, however, that the most unusual part of his stay with Severus Snape occurred. Harry had just got dressed and was heading to collect another book when he peered into a room he hadn't seen before. Inside was a small, but fully equipped, potions laboratory and Severus was stood with his back to him, stirring a cauldron in an anti-clockwise motion. Harry stopped and watched the potions master at work – it was completely different from seeing him in the classroom. Severus Snape was clearly in his element and Harry could almost sense his love of the craft emanating from him.
"Are you just going to stand there and watch?" Severus called, without turning. "I'm brewing potions for your use after all, and having spent years in my classroom already I'd hope you're not as big a dunderhead as I'd normally expect from my students?" Severus left the question hanging in the air as he continued to stir.
Harry rolled up his sleeves and stepped up to the workbench alongside his former Professor. He arranged his work area so everything he needed was within easy reach and followed all the safety precautions that had been drummed into him during his time at the Auror Academy. Severus watched his preparations out of the corner of his eye and, when Harry had finished, he gave a short nod of approval and directed him to start preparing ingredients.
By the end of their first brewing session together Harry was pleased to see Severus hadn't rejected a single item he had prepared. That alone was high praise based on his previous experience with the man. Over the next week and a half, Harry spent more time working alongside Severus and developed a healthy admiration for the Potion Master's skills.
Harry found himself sitting quietly with Severus one evening, the open book in his lap ignored as he stared into the flames flickering in the fireplace in front of them.
"Harry?" Severus said, quietly. "In your memories, I saw me teaching your class… was it… was I really as bad as that?"
Harry sighed and, closing the book, turned to face Severus. "Which answer do you want? The one I would have given you when I was in school, the one I would have given after the war ended, or the one I would have given as Head Auror?"
Snape paused and silently considered Harry, the light of the fire reflecting in his dark eyes. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, then said "All of them."
Harry sighed again. "Fine. In school, I would have said you were one of the worst teachers I'd ever seen. You just chucked a recipe up on the board and told us to get on with it. No explanation, no demonstration, and then berated us if we didn't meet your standards. Neville Longbottom's boggart was you. There was nothing in the world he feared more than you and he had to sit and take your mocking and abuse for hours each week – when you weren't picking on me that was. You were only saved from being the worst by Trelawney and Binns. When I was in my sixth year you took over the DADA job where you were actually much better, but I still remember seeing first-year students in tears in the common room after lessons with you."
Severus swallowed deeply. "And after the war?"
"I'd still have said you weren't meant to be a teacher but that you were clearly passionate about your favoured subjects. That you were a brilliant potions master but teaching eleven-year-olds how to safely hold a potions knife or the difference between dicing, chopping and slicing, was always going to be too… pedestrian for you. You would have been better off researching in a lab, developing new potions and improving existing ones, or just instructing the NEWT students if you really had to continue teaching. I used your potions book in my sixth year – though I didn't know it was yours at the time – and some of the notes you'd made were just brilliant. I had your changes published eventually, under your name of course, and they made a massive difference to brewers all over the world."
Feeling a little better, Severus asked once more. "And as Head Auror?"
Harry paused. He picked up a glass of water from the table next to him and downed the contents before rolling the now-empty glass between his palms. He looked up at Severus intently. "I'd say you did more to further Voldemort's cause than anyone else in magical Britain."
Severus jolted back in shock, his eyes wide, wordlessly imploring Harry to explain. Harry placed the glass back onto the side table and ran his hand through his messy black hair. He sighed once more.
"As Head of Slytherin, you allowed the students in your house to run roughshod over the school. There were never any consequences to their actions, and you protected them in the name of keeping your position as a spy safe. Dumbledore was of no help, forgiveness was always his thing but in our sixth year, things culminated in Draco Malfoy leading a whole group of Death Eaters, including Fenrir Greyback, into a school full of children. I can't help but think that, if he'd been dealt with appropriately through the years, we wouldn't have lost so many of his class to Voldemort's side." Harry took a breath and plunged on, trying to move past the look of rising horror on Severus' face.
"Your way of teaching also meant that, by the time Voldemort rose again, we were horrendously short of Aurors and Healers. I can accept you only allowing students with an Outstanding O.W.L. into your N.E.W.T. class – Potions is a dangerous subject after all – but you never even gave most students a chance to make it there. My N.E.W.T. potions class – which I only got into because Horace Slughorn took students who'd managed to get an EE on their O. - had no more than a dozen students in it, and that was only because Minerva made me drag Ron Weasley along as well. When Voldemort came back at the end of my fourth year, there simply weren't the numbers to cope with his attacks, and what's more, more than a few of those who had made it into the Aurors weren't exactly unsympathetic to Voldemort's ideals. It was generally only the Slytherins, whom you were rumoured to give extra tuition to, that made it into your class. We had a hell of a time after the war, trying to bring the numbers of Aurors and Healers back to where they should have been."
Harry stood abruptly and walked towards the door. Turning back, he could see Severus slumped in his chair, thinking over what Harry had just told him.
"This isn't just an opportunity for me to change things," Harry said quietly. "Take the chance yourself. Don't be that bitter man, trapped between two masters with no hope of escape."
Harry slipped from the room, leaving Severus alone with his thoughts.
It was during one of their final brewing sessions that Severus turned to Harry to ask a question that had been playing on his mind since Harry had fallen through his door. "You've told me about, and shown me, a lot of our interactions from your time over the last two weeks Harry and based on those, I can't for the life of me understand why you came to me for help? You know I'll assist you in any way I can as we move forward but I would have thought I'd be the last person you'd want to see…"
Harry had been considering this very thing since he had first awoken following his healing. "It wasn't my intention to come to you – I was all set to head straight to Andromeda. I've been trying to puzzle out how I ended up here myself." Severus quietly observed Harry as he mentally tried to walk through the night of his return. "I remember leaving the Dursley's house and staggering out into the street before trying to apparate. Obviously, I was thinking about where I wanted to go but as I twisted to leave it was agony and I started to think of…"
Harry stopped a flash of pain evident on his face and Severus noticed a sudden wetness in the corners of his eyes.
Severus allowed Harry to sit in silence for a few moments to gather his emotions before prompting him gently. "Of what?"
"Of my children" Harry whispered. "I just… they're gone, and I'll never see them again… even if Ginny Weasley and I were to get together in the future, any children we had wouldn't be the same. We could use the same names, but they would be different people…"
"What were their names? You've never mentioned them in our conversations."
"I had a daughter, Lily Luna, and two sons, James Sirius and Albus Severus."
An expression of shock flittered over Severus' face as he took this information in. "Even after everything I did to you and put you through, you named one of your children after me?"
"How could I not? What you did is still one of the bravest things I've ever seen. Listen, despite what I said before, at the end of the day you sacrificed yourself to honour my mother and allow me to defeat Voldemort."
"You thought that much of me?"
"Well," he continued, "I also wanted to honour both you and Dumbledore. Neither of you had families to continue your own names so…" Harry gathered himself and looked Severus directly in the eye. "Knowing what I know now I certainly won't be doing that again for Dumbledore."
"Yes, I'd imagine your child would probably thank you to steer clear of names like that in the future as well. I mean 'Albus Severus'? What on earth were you thinking?" Severus smirked at Harry. "I assume you were expecting him to be a Slytherin?" Harry looked at him quizzically as a smile teased at the corners of his mouth. "Albus Severus Potter… ASP."
Harry groaned. "I didn't even think of that. He gave a weak chuckle and silence fell between the pair. After a few moments, Severus spoke softly.
"I've heard you at night you know. Crying to yourself in your room, believing I won't hear. Is it your children that you are thinking of?"
"Yes. I just… it feels like a part of me is missing…"
"I know. I can't say I understand, not having a family of my own, but I would think they would want you to grasp the opportunity you've been given and make a future that they would be happy living in. Make them proud in everything you do."
Harry took a deep breath. He would hold tightly to those memories of his family, but it was time to focus on the future. "Do you think the thought of my kids is what brought me here?"
"Apparating to a person rather than a location is… unheard of, but I can't see what else would have caused you to do so. Fixing your destination is imperative with apparition. If your last thought was of the name your son and I share it's likely that redirected you. Just be glad – you could have ended up with the Headmaster."
Harry shuddered.
The sun rose on Harry's final day of treatment and, after being given a clean bill of health by Poppy Pomfrey, Harry gathered his few possessions and prepared to leave Spinner's End. There had been many discussions about Harry's next step, and it was decided that Severus would accompany him to the home of the Tonks family and help him explain the situation to Andromeda. Knowing that her help was essential to his plans, Harry had decided to give her the whole truth as to his return and Severus was prepared to back him.
Dressed in clothes that Poppy had purchased for him while he was recovering, Harry stepped out into the mid-morning sun. Taking a deep breath and noting that his chest no longer hurt as he did so, he looked around at the run-down street. Severus strode out beside him and glanced down at Harry. "Are you ready to go?"
"Just a moment," Harry said. "I want to thank you again for all your help so far. I know it can't have been easy seeing me, looking so much like my father, and I know how he treated you when you were at school…"
"It's not as if I was entirely innocent Harry," Severus said with a sigh. "The last couple of weeks have forced me to... reassess… my past relationships with your family. Calling your mother a mudblood was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made – it destroyed one of the best things in my life, her friendship. The time we've spent together has made it clear to me that, you may look like your arrogant, bullying toerag of a father – ", Severus shot a sarcastic smirk at Harry "but you've more in common with your mother than just her eyes."
Harry looked up at the Professor who had, more than once in his school years been the target of his anger. "Well… thank you anyway." Severus nodded at him in acceptance. "You know when I eventually join Hogwarts, you're not going to be able to be this pleasant to me?"
"Oh, I think I can manage a disturbing level of irritation towards you in public," Severus sneered at Harry, twisting his face into the expression that had terrified hundreds of students and would continue to do so for years to come.
Harry laughed and took Severus' elbow as they apparated away to the Tonks' residence.
Another cross-over recommendation from me. A lengthy WIP that's still getting regular updates - Harry Potter, Squatter by Enterprise1701-d. It's a Percy Jackson cross-over and one I regularly return to and end up reading from the start again. Generally, I'll try to keep the recommendations to completed works but I wanted to make an exception for this one.
