Chapter Text
2nd May 1998
Severus Snape reclined wearily against the back of his dark wooden throne-like chair in the Headmaster’s Office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his head angled up towards the ceiling and his eyes closed.
The Battle of Hogwarts was unfolding around him. The pupils were scared, running in all directions to flee the curses already being cast by the Death Eaters who had ruled the Castle over the past nine months or so. Many had fled already.
The Order of the Phoenix had arrived en masse and the leaders were currently finalising battle strategies with the remaining Professors while the lesser members were trying hard to defend the castle.
How had he allowed this to happen? He’d done his best to provide the Order with sufficient details to defeat the Dark Lord, but he’d left it way to late to affect any real assistance at this stage. He could have done more, and sooner. He’d known the truth about Harry Potter for more than twelve months now. He should have acted the minute he’d been told.
Thanks to the many years his predecessor, Album Dumbledore had wasted bungling his way through, providing his ‘chosen one’, Harry Potter with little snippets of help, it had taken too long. Now it was likely the boy would die.
The Dark Lord had arrived in Hogsmeade and was demanding the Potter boy meet him to face his death.
Potter and his two side kicks, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger had spent this entire school year searching for Horcruxes. It had taken them far too long they had wasted so much time because they’d been given nothing to go on but a few cryptic clues and riddles.
They were teenagers, little more than children. They had been sent out on a series of dangerous missions armed with nothing more than their wands, a runic book of children’s fables, a Deluminator and a Golden Snitch. Not even the brilliant but insufferable know-it-all Hermione Granger had been able to decipher all the riddles they’d been given.
Severus couldn’t really blame her though. Couldn’t blame any of them. It was too much to expect a group of teenagers to deal with on their own. What had Dumbledore been thinking?
After all this time, they still didn’t have any clue where to find the Missing Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. No one did. That was the point. It was missing. It had been missing for centuries, but Potter was currently frantically searching all four corners of the castle for it, knowing he couldn’t face the Dark Lord until it had been located and destroyed.
It was essential they find it. All the Horcruxes must be destroyed to prevent the Dark Lord from regenerating himself as he had done before; That’s assuming Potter could defeat him in any case, which was highly unlikely given that Potter was himself, a Horcrux, created accidentally the night the Dark Lord had killed his parents.
Sure, Dumbledore had tried to convince him that Potter would survive the killing curse again, protected by the love his mother had shown seventeen years ago in Godric’s Hollow. That and some obscure belief that because Potter’s blood had been used to regenerate the Dark Lord three years ago at the graveyard in Little Hangleton, Potter couldn’t die while Voldermort lived. But even Dumbledore hadn’t been completely sure, and he certainly hadn’t convinced Severus.
Potter was Lily’s son. Lily, who had been his childhood sweetheart, his first and only love. Despite not being especially fond of the boy; he looked too much like his father, who had stolen Lily from him, he felt an almost fatherly need to protect him. He’d even made a promise to Dumbledore to protect him.
Severus scoffed to himself. Dumbledore had done precious little to protect him. If Severus himself hadn’t intervened and offered up the Sword of Gryffindor to them in the Forest of Dean, they’d still be searching for a way to destroy the Horcruxes. He could do no more for them now in this timeline. He’d been a fool to allow it to get this far. He should have intervened earlier.
He knew what he must do now though. He’d been summoned to the Dark Lord, but instead, knowing his encounter with the Dark Lord would not go well for him tonight, he grabbed a Basilisk fang from his desk drawer and retrieved an illegal time turner from the pocket of his robes, given to him the previous evening by Minerva McGonagall.
He paused for a moment, staring at the golden orb-like object, remembering Minerva’s words. “It’s too late to save him now, Severus. You must go back and put this right. You must save the boy. It has to be you, Severus.”
He’d argued with her, of course, but he knew she was right. His life was about to be cut short anyway, as soon as the Dark Lord realised he’d been misled about the Elder Wand.
He sighed as he scooped up a handful of vials containing his own memories and the rolled up the sheets of parchment he had prepared earlier.
He’d return later to face his demise once he’d completed his mission. He had to at least try and give Harry Potter the childhood he’d never had and provide Hermione Granger with the truth about her lineage. After all the years he’d watched them both struggle, Potter with his demons and Granger with her birth prejudice, he owed them that much at least. If he was successful, he might even be able to prevent the deaths of a few innocent people. He might even be able to secure a different outcome for his future self.
He knew he was about to commit a very serious crime. Messing with time was not only highly illegal, but some would also question the morality of it, however, if he could change the course of events and give Harry Potter a chance at a worry-free childhood, was it really that immoral?
If he could give Hermione Granger the truth about her magical ancestry then maybe she wouldn’t spend her entire time at Hogwarts with such a massive chip on her shoulder, and that surely had to be better for everyone?
Besides, if he really thought about the many immoral and illegal acts he’d committed on behalf of the Dark Lord, it paled into minor significance.
He took one last pitying look at his summoner, who stood before him, wringing his hands nervously.
Lucius Malfoy; pathetic, broken and disillusioned. His long grey hair, matted and falling haphazardly about his ashen face; his body left twitching and pain-ridden from liberal use of the Cruciatus curse, his mind scrambled by too much Legilimency. The once respected and revered Lucius Malfoy had been relegated to nothing more than an errand boy for the Dark Lord. He might even be able to guarantee Lucius a better life too, he thought as he stored away the memory of the pitiful man standing before him now.
“Severus, what are you doing?” Lucius asked, his face weary but panic stricken. “The Dark Lord...”
“Will not be kept waiting long.” Severus interrupted. “Just wait here while I...”
“Severus?”
“Be patient, Lucius. This is my final swansong. I’ll be back before you can blink, then we can face our fates together.” Severus told his old friend as he adjusted the time turner in his hands.
“No. I have to...” Lucius paused to cough. “I must find Draco. Narcissa is waiting...” Another cough.
Severus nodded to him, acknowledging his plight.
“Then go, Lucius, while you still can. I will make my appearance to the Dark Lord directly. There is just something I must do first.” Severus forced a smile. If his actions played out successfully and his instructions were followed, Draco could be spared as well.
Lucius nodded nervously, clearly confused and so Severus gave him an encouraging dismissive gesture. “Go.” He commanded.
He watched Lucius disappear through the doorway to the Headmaster’s Office and as he listened to his footsteps descending the stone steps, he muttered. “Good luck, Lucius. I’ll see you in 1981.”
Within seconds he had travelled back almost seventeen years to the night before Halloween, 1981. He took a deep breath as he exited the floo in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, hoping Lucius actually wouldn’t be present that evening.
From what he could remember of 1981, Lucius was likely away from home in the evenings, often involved in strategy meetings with the Dark Lord. He hoped it would be one of those evenings.
Narcissa, with her protective maternal instincts heightened by the birth of her own son the previous year, would be much easier to convince.
Narcissa Malfoy was his best hope.