An orb of light traveled slowly through the Shrieking Shack.

It traveled the entire length of the room, seeming to float  through the air as it went. A room that appeared to have been violently ransacked. (Maybe it had been. The presence in the orb did not know.)

And dirty.

Filthy, really, from two decades of neglect and illicit usage. It was built to be a temporary solution to an unprecedented, and unrepeated, problem. Perhaps it should have been torn down when the need for it had expired but, for whatever reason, it stood.

The orb stopped periodically, appearing for all intents and purposes, to be suspended in mid-air, as if taking in every detail of the scene. The story the scene told. Finally, it moved to its destination, hovering above the shack's lone occupant.

A guttural moan, one might recognize as a death rattle, emitted from the occupant, but no one was there to hear it.

Except the presence in the orb.

The Order's hero was dying alone, despised, in the same room he'd been on the receiving end of a potentially deadly prank over twenty years ago. That prank, retaliation for his trying to catch the Marauders committing shenanigans, could have gone very badly.

An incident where this man learned his … opinions and potential contributions didn't matter because he lacked money and a name to go with that money.

The presence in the orb knew the truth. It was one of a few who did. His hands had been tied. The Blacks and Potters had more influence (money) than this wizard, even if he'd had the backing of his maternal family (which he didn't). This wizard was sullen and uncooperative on his best day.

Even then.

The orb passed over the dying body of Severus Snape several times before coming to settle on the (now) dead wizard's abdomen.

If anyone was in the shack, they would see that the orb appeared to be leaking, its ethereal-like contents adding to the blood, sweat, dirt, and bodily waste stained robes beneath it.

Dead man can't cry.

But this was magic after all.

The light in the orb blinked rapidly, like a lightbulb sputtering to use all of its juice before going dark, before fading to be virtually unseeable by the human eye.

//

"This was not supposed to happen, Albus. You assured us the last time that you meddled with time that he would survive. It is why we allowed you to do so. Again. You were evidently too smart for your own good, as all but you believed him to be a traitor. And for him to die here, alone and shunned, where his life had been threatened in his youth. This should not have happened."

"He should have survived. He was supposed to survive!" He protested. What else could he say?

"Well, clearly you did something wrong, as he has not."

Silence as those words settled in.

"Is it my fault no one believed me? How many times did I need to say that I trusted Severus? How many times could I assure the members of the Order and Hogwarts' staff that he was on my side?"

"Therein may lie the problem, Albus. He wasn't on your side. He was on our side. This was to be your last chance. We told you the last time that too many alterations to time can be catastrophic. Too many simultaneous timelines can be apocalyptic."

"I am aware. Voldemort had to be defeated! I know that I have lived too many lives where he was not. None of them were pleasant, for anyone, even his followers. I have not asked to go back further than Voldemort. I never asked to alter my dealings with Grindelwald from that first time back, even if I knew without my interference, he wouldn't have done half of what he did. I thought I had it this time. I don't know how I failed."

"Again."

"I figured out about the horcruxes this time! That should have been it! Everything should have been right. Voldemort was defeated!"

It was the first time Voldemort had been defeated. So many revisions to finally get here.

"And yet, Severus Snape is dead. Despised. Alone. Him being designated a hero posthumously is not sufficient. And was not your directive."

The wizard sighed. Unnecessary in this state he was currently in as it was to do so. So frustrating! The evil was defeated. Certainly, good and magic would flourish going forward.

Where were his accolades for that?

"What would you have me do? I am dead, and have been for a while now. Is that not enough? It's not as if I'm in a position to change it. My own life was forfeit this time."

"Through your own hubris, pride, and greed, Albus Dumbledore!"

"I am not there to operate the time turner. Aberforth won't know to do it. He wouldn't think to do it anyway with Voldemort being defeated," Albus murmured under his breath.

Habit to do so, as he didn't need to breathe in this form. And they knew what he was thinking. Aberforth certainly wouldn't have a clue that Severus was to have lived. Likely, he wouldn't care either , since Severus killed Albus this time through the events.

"You did not tell him that Voldemort being defeated was not the only thing you were trying to reverse?"

"I didn't even remember. I only knew in my gut that Severus should survive. Perhaps if I'd been returned with previous memories, so I knew. I didn't think it would be necessary to tell him about my thoughts on Severus. He's no fool. I assumed he'd figure it out!"

Here. In this … place. He had all of the memories. All of the timelines he'd lived were there for him to review. And to realize what he could maybe have done differently … better. He was never returned with those memories, though. What was the point of returning him without knowing he had a dual agenda?

"No one figured it out! Maybe if you hadn't been so focused on yourself, and speaking in riddles to everyone, that wouldn't have been the case."

Aberforth certainly hadn't been against using the time turner to get them to a point where Voldemort wasn't yet in power. And then spent their lives acting as if he was somehow better than Albus, and hadn't done something equally as illegal. Ariana had just gone along with her brothers on their journey, trusting them both. She'd likely hate him, too, if she could.

His attention returned to the wizard his "essence" was resting on.

His friend.

His only friend really.

His loyal friend, despite him asking, and expecting, him to do heinous acts. Always his friend. He'd made the man kill him. In front of witnesses. In front of his only friend's son.

The wizard he thought of as his son toward the end.

He hadn't at first, of course.

He had barely trusted Severus in 1980 when he'd come to him, even after he said he'd do anything to save Lily Potter's life.

Barely was an understatement. As such, he hadn't … cared what his spy might be going through. Or experiencing.

Eventually, though, that had changed. To the point, Severus Snape was his most trusted confidante. He knew things about Albus few others did. None alive any longer at any rate. Albus had never admitted it, but Severus always caught onto the fact that Albus was not truly of this time, despite what the history books said.

"Oh Severus. It was not supposed to happen this way. You were to live and love. Finally. That love I preached about so often, that you scoffed and sneered at, applied to you, too. At not even forty you deserved to experience it. I wanted you to know firsthand how wonderful it could truly be."

He was counting on Severus getting it right, unlike his attempt. He'd made a horrific choice.

No response.

Of course not.

The younger wizard was dead.

"There must be … something."

"We might be able to arrange one last chance to right these wrongs you have caused, Albus Dumbedore."

Albus swallowed, if such a thing were possible, or necessary, in this form. It was instinctual, though, to go through the motions even if it was useless now.

"He was my most trusted friend and servant until the end, willing to risk sacrificing his very soul for the cause, betterment of our society, and the defeat of Tom Riddle."

"Is that a yes or no, Albus?"

"Anything."

"Very well then. Just remember you said anything."

//

Albus wasn't given time to dwell on or appreciate the … irony in his words compared to Severus' years ago.

Faster than an eye could blink, the orb disappeared from its spot on the deceased wizard's abdomen with a loud pop and flash of light. Anyone outside the shack, might have mistaken it for thunder and lightning. A storm within the Shrieking Shack was possibly not the oddest thing the shack had been privy to.

The air shifted, the pressure dropped suddenly. Not that there was anyone there to notice. No one alive anyway. Those that survived were at the castle. Neither side cared about the man they viewed as a traitor.

There was stillness. Too calm. As if a mighty storm was about to be unleashed.

And then it happened.

The Shrieking Shack lived up to its name as it howled and screeched. It shook violently, the screeching louder than a howler monkey. The Whomping Willow wailed as if burnt.

If anyone had peeked through a window (not that they could have gotten close enough at this moment to do such a thing), they would have seen what looked like a funnel cloud spinning relentlessly throughout the shack. This one wasn't black, but instead shockingly white. It started small, increasing in size and volume until the entire shack from inside out was engulfed in it.

And then all was quiet again. There was nothing remaining but elements of the earth where the Shrieking Shack and the Whomping Willow had been.

*****

August 1, 1971

Albus Dumbledore was seated at his desk, quill in hand.

Startled.

As if waking from a dream.

Moments ago he'd been … nothing.

A spirit?

He wasn't sure what that existence could be considered. He'd never asked in all of his times in that state. He wasn't a ghost. At least not like any ghost he knew about anyway. Then he was the first to admit that anything was possible in the magical world.

He took in his surroundings.

The portraits on the wall. The decor. The robes he wore. So, definitely his office. The headmaster's office. 

He never knew where he would be returned to, at what point in time they'd send him back so he could try to fix things. This, though, was further than he'd been taken back.

By them.

The only time he'd started out earlier was when he, his brother, and his sister had gone back from their original time initially. When they had inadvertently landed in the late nineteenth century. They'd been lucky, actually, to have ended up somewhere things like cameras or the internet were not even a thought yet. Three basically children with no parents would have stood out much later than where they'd originally started over again.

So.

Here he was.

Another chance.

Another opportunity to see to it that Voldemort was defeated (something he now knew how to do) and ensure Severus Snape lived (something he did not yet know how to do). There had been a timeline or two where Severus survived, but Voldemort had, too.

He knew he had to get it right this time.

Or else.

He shuddered to think of what his punishment might be if he failed.

Again.

Whatever it was, it wouldn't be pleasant. He was sure of that.

So, back to this then.

He took a look around the office, suspecting when he was, even without glancing at a nearby calendar.

He gripped the desk as … everything came to him.

All at once.

Every timeline he'd lived. Every timeline he'd used attempting to defeat Voldemort. (And failing in all but the last attempt.)

Oh, well, that was unsettling.

Most unsettling.

What had they done?

Until now, he'd never had the … memories.

He had never truly known he was creating a new timeline. He'd always felt exactly as he had today, as if waking from a dream. Disoriented. Feeling as if he should be aware of something , but never able to put a finger on it. Sometimes things seemed familiar, as if he was experiencing deja vu, but he never pieced together why. It wasn't until the end, when he hadn't achieved what he'd set out to do, that he'd had previous timelines' memories returned to him.

Evidently, the Fates were through with him screwing this up because he had them all. The good (very few of those), the bad (lots of those), and the ugly (sadly lots of those as well) memories. All there for his taking. All there for him to realize how he had never achieved the sought after end result.

Voldemort dead.

And.

Severus Snape alive.

There had been times Severus lived, but never before this last one had Voldemort been defeated.

How very badly things had gone pear shaped multiple times now astounded him.

He had no idea why Severus Snape had to live, but that was his directive. Voldemort's defeat was paramount, too, yes. That was obvious. He knew how to do that this time. Severus' survival. That wasn't so obvious.

And then he pondered that.

He knew why Voldemort needed to be defeated. He'd lived his childhood in a world ruled by the wizard. He understood perfectly well the evilness and despair that ran rampant in a wizarding world overseen by Thomas Riddle's villainous alter ego.

He had no arguments on the fact that wizard needed to be defeated. It was what he and his siblings had embarked on the path to accomplish their first journey to the past.

So, Voldemort's demise was obvious. He firmly believed the three of them, thinking they could or not, would not have been permitted to travel back as far as they had initially if someone wasn't in favor of them defeating him.

Why Severus?

There were so many lives lost between both wars involving Voldemort. Not that he thought Severus didn't deserve the chance. He absolutely did. He just didn't understand why he was chosen to survive versus others.

It wasn't his decision to make. He had given his word that both things would happen, and he had, to this point, not been able to keep it.

He glanced at a calendar, saw the actual date, realizing he had been brought back before Severus had even started his schooling at Hogwarts. He'd known the era from the state of the office, but not the actual date until seeing it.

He glanced at Fawkes, who was looking at him wearily if Albus wasn't mistaken. The Phoenix was too smart for his own good. He'd adjust, though, he always did.

He had things to do, it seemed, to put into action a plan where Severus Snape survived. Was he sent to this particular time because the Fates thought this would be his best chance at making that goal happen? What could he do before the wizard had even started school? That had to be their purpose, though.

Time to get busy then, Albus. Make this right.

There was one thing Albus had never tried before now. He'd never thought of it and, even if he had, he wasn't sure he would have thought it was necessary or wise. Until now, this altering of time, he hadn't had his memories to go with the new journey. He just knew - deep down - what the end result was supposed to be.

And bucked against it when all was said and done, because the boy was a Slytherin. Like Tom Riddle. Poor. Like Tom Riddle. Intelligent. Like Tom Riddle. A loner. Like Tom Riddle.

That was on him, he supposed. His bias.

Somehow he knew he was not going to get another chance. He'd used too many already to defeat Voldemort. He was fairly certain that he truly only had one more opportunity to get the end result wanted.

That in mind, wanting to try to fix things from the beginning of Severus' time at Hogwarts, he prepared to depart and start this new plan in motion. Preparing to depart included a pouch of galleons, most of which would be gone when he returned.

He made his way to Cokeworth. Once there, he went to Spinner's End, finding the home in question. He'd never seen the house in this time, still somewhat cared for. The lawn was even recently maintained (Severus' doing, no doubt), and there were some flowers in a planter just off the step leading to the front door. Definitely on the downside of things economically, even now. An attempt was being made, though, to make it homey.

He'd never given Severus' beginnings much thought. Of course, he learned of them … later. It wasn't the headmaster's purpose to know such things. He had hundreds of students to be responsible for every year. He couldn't possibly get to know them all.

He knocked on the door, clearing his throat softly as he glanced down the street at the evident squalor in the entire neighborhood even now. He imagined fifteen or so years ago it wasn't so bad, but now. Well. It hadn't improved in the future either.

Just as he expected, Eileen Snape nee Prince opened the door. Her face, showing her age from the last time he saw her when she left Hogwarts, betrayed her surprise. It certainly wasn't every day the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry showed up on one's doorstep unannounced. Certainly not in muggle Cokeworth. No matter that the woman on the other side of the door was a former student of his.

"Good morning, Madam Snape," he said with a polite incline of his head.

"Professor, I mean Headmaster, Dumbledore." He chuckled at that. He had, of course, been her professor thirty years ago. "Would you like to come in?"

"If I'm not intruding."

He took that to mean Tobias Snape wasn't home. She wouldn't have invited him in otherwise. So, he'd picked a good day.

Or the Fates had.

"Not at all. Of course you aren't. I was just about to put on some tea."

"Thank you, then I should be delighted. It has been quite some time since I've had tea made the muggle way."

She blushed somewhat prettily at that. He supposed it wasn't often people spoke to her about muggle anything these days. Or found anything she did the muggle way interesting. She lived among muggles after all.

Or, for that matter, was delighted by anything she did.

"Is it acceptable if I have a word with young master Snape about his upcoming arrival at Hogwarts while you prepare the tea?"

"Of course," she said, gesturing to the stairs. "First door on the left."

He, of course, knew that. Well, he knew which room had been the other wizard's bedroom as a child, even if he'd only been inside this home before today when Severus was an adult.

"Thank you," he said with a polite bow of his head before taking his leave upstairs.

He knocked on the door to which he was told to enter. The boy would clearly be expecting his mother. (And likely wondered why she was knocking.) He opened the door to find an eleven year old Severus Snape lying on his bed reading a comic.

Merlin, Albus really hadn't paid the … state of the boy much attention. Even here in his room, dressed in what appeared to be lounging clothes. The pants were barely long enough to hit his ankles and the shirt he wore was so tight around his chest, Albus wondered how the boy could breathe. Even with as thin as he was! He knew Lily Evans by now, of course, and knew she would be starting at Hogwarts this fall with him. So, he did appear as if he … put forth some effort into his physical appearance and hygiene.

He recognized the creature on the cover of the comic book as Swamp Thing, only because Severus had told him (years from now) that he felt a kinship to the superhero, being a humanoid/plant elemental creature. He thought his affinity for potions was similar.

"Master Snape," he said, making his presence known.

"Headmaster," he said, peering at him over the comic curiously. Dark eyes that Albus knew most found disconcerting, but, as he got to know him, he realized they were just as emotive as anyone else's eyes were. You just had to know what to look for.

This young, Severus did not yet know how to school his reactions very well. Oh, certainly, he had some experience in keeping his father from knowing what he was thinking. He was nowhere near as accomplished as he would become. Occlumency wasn't something this boy would have heard mention of.

Yet.

He was likely wondering what the headmaster of the school he had not even begun attending yet was doing in his bedroom. Headmaster Dumbledore didn't make house calls. He had staff to do such things. He hadn't anyway since 1938. There was a first time for everything.

"How are you doing today, Severus? May I call you that?"

"Yes," he said. The response wasn't immediate, though, as if he weighed the pros and cons to granting him permission before doing so.

Albus had to stifle the chuckle that threatened to escape at the look on young Severus' face at the idea that the headmaster was asking him such a question.

"Just in private, okay? In front of anyone else, you will be Mr. Snape, just like any other student."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good," he said with a kindly wink. He hoped that would offset the question he was about to ask. "I trust you have not done your school shopping?"

"No," he said.

There was clear disappointment in the young wizard's eyes. His quick attempt at looking away from Albus didn't stop him from seeing it. How he could make a one syllable word sound petulant. Well, Albus thought the wizard could give lessons because, even in the future, he did so outstandingly well.

And, yes, there was the tone of voice he remembered from him at this age. It had been over twenty-five years, and honestly he never had many conversations with Severus Snape at this age. Why would he have? He was a troublesome half-blood, whose mother turned her back on the magical world.

He was also sorted into the wrong house.

He knew when he'd been returned to his office on this date, at this time, what he could do. What the implication of choosing this time, before Severus had even set foot in Hogwarts, was. Would he be able to do it, though? Would it make a difference? Could he effect change this early? The Fates were pushing him down a path he had, stubbornly, refused to go down.

Albus knew the answer to the school shopping question. He worded it carefully, so that young Severus wouldn't know the headmaster was very aware of his financial situation.

"Well, you're in luck. I was going to Diagon Alley after having tea with your mother. Would you care to join me?"

Those dark eyes so familiar to Albus, yet not quite the same, regarded him as he thought over the question. Already he was astute enough to look for … tricks or traps in such an offer.

"Really?"

He couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice, even if he was more than just a little suspect of the offer being a genuine one.

By this age, Severus Snape had been on the receiving end of few gifts or good deeds. He hadn't been bullied into constant surliness and defensiveness yet. So, he wasn't completely suspicious. That would come with time. Or maybe not, if Albus played this right starting from this point.

He could change Severus' path.

Was that what they wanted?

"Yes, really," he replied with, what he hoped was, a jovial sounding chuckle.

He wanted to say yes. Albus could see that plainly. He was reminded again of the fact that the young wizard who would become his friend in about ten years, hadn't learned to hide his feelings quite so well yet at this age.

"We don't have any money, Sir," he said. "Mum says…"

"Yes, well," he countered quickly. He didn't want the boy to abase or humiliate himself. He knew. "You can pay me back for any expenditures today."

"How?" he asked, sounding suspect.

Albus supposed that wasn't the best way for him to phrase it. Severus had no money now, and wouldn't have it in a few months' time either. The young wizard knew that. He was already a somewhat streetwise boy. He'd be suspicious of someone just offering to take him supply shopping.

"Nothing untoward, Severus. We will talk more about any repayment when you arrive at Hogwarts next month."

Eyes so dark most believed them to be black assessed him. Albus wouldn't say shrewdly. This Severus Snape hadn't learned to be that yet. He was clearly mulling over the pros and cons of saying yes to his future headmaster's offer.

"Okay," he said after a few minutes of seeming to mull over the offer and any potential drawbacks to accepting.

His acceptance gained, and tea shared (uncomfortably) with his mother, they embarked on their trek to Diagon Alley. In truth, Mrs. Snape didn't seem at all displeased or put out to not have to return to magical London. Albus imagined Severus' mother had lots of mixed feelings about it.

In all honesty, Albus hadn't given Severus' mother much thought over the years. She was rather … insignificant in the grand scheme of things. She'd shown evidence of being a capable witch as a student, but had, for whatever reason, turned her back on the magical world.

He, to this day and no matter how many times he'd experienced these events, had no idea why his mother had even sent Severus to Hogwarts to begin with. She clearly hadn't wanted the involvement, and she had to know her son would not fit in. Had she just wanted him out of the house, away from Tobias Snape so badly, that any port in the storm would do? He'd likely never know.

They spent hours there, Albus showing the young wizard everything and anything he wanted to see. (And he wanted to see everything , which Albus expected.) Every store they visited, something was purchased, even if it wasn't specifically necessary for school. Instructions at all of the important stores (robes, books, stationery, apothecary, and even the ice cream store) were left that anything Severus Snape bought was to be put on the headmaster's account. He spoke to each owner directly and discreetly, instructing them that no one was to know who was behind paying young Master Snape's bills. And that, barring Severus wanting to buy a dragon or something, his requests were to be fulfilled.

Everything a first year wizard could want bought, and a day filled with exploration and curiosities seen to, they headed back to Cokeworth and his home. It had been a long time since Albus spent hours with an eleven year old child. He had to say, the day wasn't a bad one. Severus had many questions about a variety of things, but they were all logical. He saw something and wanted to know how it worked or what it was used for. And Albus had no doubt that the boy would remember the explanations Albus had given him.

"Thank you, Sir," Severus said. "Not to sound or seem ungrateful, but my father's home by now…" He trailed off, turning his head so that Albus couldn't see his face.

"Ah, I do sort of look exactly like what I am, don't I?" He chuckled at that, running his hand along the length of his beard. To their neighbors, who didn't know about magic, he would look like a very eccentric old man. To Tobias Snape, he would look like a wizard. "Say no more, Severus," Albus said, knowing exactly what the boy was trying to, discreetly, say. Albus Dumbledore couldn't pass as a muggle if he tried. Wizards were likely not welcome in their home, despite (or because of) the fact Tobias Snape's son was one. "Will you be okay getting your things to your room? Should I shrink them down for you? Or show you how to?"

His eyes shot up then, interest displayed clearly. Ah yes. He truly wanted to know everything. Albus chuckled as a thought occurred to him that hadn't until just this moment. Young Severus was very much like a muggleborn witch Albus was aware of, one who hadn't even been born yet, who might just rival Severus' innate need to know things. And it was a need. A witch this wizard gave such a difficult time to in about twenty years. Albus wondered now, for the first time, if Severus realized the irony in his strictness with Miss Granger. (Obviously, this Severus wouldn't. Perhaps, Albus mused, he could remember this day, this thought, and ask him when Miss Granger arrived.)

"I'm not encouraging you to break the rules about the use of magic outside of Hogwarts, but you do have to get the items procured into your home, and then out again to get to Hogwarts."

"Yes, Sir, I would like to know."

"Very well. I'm trusting, Severus, that you will not abuse what I am teaching you. I don't want you starting out on the wrong foot before you even get through the doors."

"I would never," he said. He sounded so sincere and adamant, Albus truly wondered how he had missed this wizard's desire to learn what he could, when he could. Knowing he wouldn't be able to use these spells for nearly a month yet, he still wanted to see them. Know them.

Albus winked then and set about teaching him the spells, using his newly acquired wand, to shrink today's purchases and how to unshrink them for later. The wonder and concentration on the young wizard's face was rather amazing. Was he like this in every timeline he'd lived thus far? So keen to learn? Not just keen to learn, but able to do what he'd been taught and shown rather easily. Truly, it took little effort for the eleven year old wizard to get the spells to do as they were supposed to for him.

With no training! He knew that Eileen Snape had provided her son very little as far as know-how and history of the magical gifts he'd been born with.

Albus never taught the wizard so he had no idea, but suspected it must have been so. He knew the wizard was exceedingly gifted.

What he had missed out on not paying attention to this wizard before he'd come to him intent on betraying the Dark Lord!

No wonder he'd been a favorite of Tom Riddle. Tom was not stupid, and would recognize Severus' intellect and prey on that.

*****

September 1, 1971

It was time. Minerva would be here soon to collect the hat. The students would be in the castle soon as well. The opening feast would happen in a matter of hours and, with it, the sorting. The castle would be bustling with activity, excitement - and hormones, as well as some trepidation to those aware of the current political climate again. Some were too young, or new to the magical world, to be wary yet. Albus loved this time of the year. The excitement the students brought with them of what they'd learn this year. And being able to share what they'd done over the summer break with their friends.

He'd put this off, knowing what he had to do. He approached the shelf where the sorting hat was kept when not in use, taking hold of it, and sliding it over his head. Evidently, according to his memories, at some point he had tried to circumvent the hat (not that it had worked).

He had no idea how Severus had ended up in Slytherin despite Albus' instructions to do otherwise.

Every time.

His desires and wants must have been immensely persuasive. Albus wasn't altogether surprised, given what he knew the wizard would grow to be. He hadn't tampered with the hat other than with Severus, so he honestly couldn't say if Severus' wishes were truly that strong, or the hat just couldn't place him elsewhere.

Severus. This Severus. Eleven year old Severus.

He believed he belonged in Slytherin.

He didn't understand yet (and Albus couldn't blame him. It had taken him not just years but lifetimes himself) that the house one was sorted into shouldn't dictate the type of person you became. Everyone had traits of each house in them. Severus could have fit in very capably with any of the houses.

If the hat, at eleven, couldn't sense Severus' bravery.

Well, he suspected the hat knew, so no sense thinking on that.

Maybe that was it: the hat couldn't follow Albus' orders to place Severus elsewhere because the hat knew where he needed to be.

Many timelines. Many years. He didn't totally understand the magic of the hat. He hadn't even understood why he was so adamant that Severus Snape not be sorted into Slytherin.

He knew now, of course. The history books he and his siblings had access to hadn't painted the wizard in a very positive light. He wasn't as viscous as Voldemort, but there had been no kindness or caring in him at all. (Some might argue those things weren't in Severus in any of the timelines Albus lived through with Severus as his friend, but the headmaster knew better.)

Regardless.

They needed him in Slytherin. Albus could admit, now, with all of the memories (and thereby all of the facts) that it was a benefit having him in Slytherin. Yes, there were followers from other houses, but primarily they were Slytherin. So Severus having, and gathering, information on them was beneficial. And would be more difficult to accomplish if he was in a different house. He knew them in ways Albus never would, or could, because they just never traveled in the same circles. So, it was time to undo that tampering. He could not risk his interference affecting what Severus wanted. (And what they needed.) He knew the boy thought he belonged in the house of the snakes because of his mother.

Headmaster, Sir.

I believe I have given you instructions in the past regarding a first year you will be meeting shortly. Snape, Severus T. out of Cokeworth, half-blood son of Prince, Eileen. Any previous directives you have been given are null and void as of this moment. Place him where he deserves to be placed.

He couldn't remember exactly what he'd directed the hat to do because there were several memories of him trying to, so hoped the general retraction would be suitable.

Are you sure? came the familiar voice that the hat used when communicating.

I am sure. Do you need a blood oath?

Unnecessary. And your directions are heard and understood.

Thank you.

He slid the hat off and set it where it belonged for Minnie to take possession of in less than an hour now.

That done, he made his way through the halls of Hogwarts in the direction of the Great Hall. The castle knew what day it was. Knew that students were returning. He could feel its … excitement … that magical minds would be opened here.

Some loved Christmas, finding it to be the most magical time of the year. Albus Dumbledore felt that way about September the first every year. And every year tried to impart that feeling on the student body.

He hadn't originally gone to Hogwarts, so perhaps that was why. These students didn't know there could - and did - come a day Hogwarts would cease to exist. He was trying to ensure that didn't happen, as it had originally. He and his siblings had essentially been self-taught, as Hogwarts didn't exist but in historic texts in their original time. Not the way it was now anyway. He, Aberforth, and Ariana decided that there had to be a better life as a result of reading those precious history books that hadn't been confiscated or destroyed by death eaters.

So being an intelligent and resourceful lot (throw in desperation that there had to be a better life available to them that didn't involve fear, torture, and tyranny), the three of them worked on a time turner that could transcend all normal laws of time travel. His first attempt at fixing things had been for the three of them to go way back, deaging themselves in the process so that he could let Hogwarts get as familiar with him as he wanted to get with it. No one ever seemed to question why they had parents that were never present. Or both dead without previous announcement when that story suited their needs. It was the late eighteen hundreds, though, things weren't scrutinized or noticed quite as closely as they were these days.

The when they'd arrived hadn't been intentional. He'd been shooting for Tom's era, wondering if he could influence the wizard away from his original path somehow. (Honestly, he would have allowed Ariana to get involved with the wizard if he thought that would have worked.) By the time they'd gotten to 1926, he was rather busy with Grindelwald to give Thomas Marvolo Riddle much of a thought.

He had … forgotten … what had gotten them to that point to begin with. He regretted that now, but it was what it was.

And now, it seemed, well. He realized now what the anything was he'd given up in exchange for this last attempt.

Ariana.

Her life had always been tragic, originally dying very young, almost as soon as they'd gotten back to the eighteen hundreds. This time though, she achieved adulthood only to be taken from him. Death eaters, enjoying taunting him by being able to get to her any time and place. Losing her as young as she was (because in wizarding terms she was). Well, even though he had other memories of her, these were the ones he and Aberforth would have to live with. Dead in such a way.

That hadn't seemed to make a difference in anything, which he imagined was why the Fates sent him back to the era of Severus' time as a student at Hogwarts again and again after his first failed attempt at stopping Tom Riddle from gaining power.

If he hadn't been distracted by Grindlewald and that war. Well, who knew if things would have turned out differently. Obviously, the Fates did not want that changed. Only these most recent events.

Specifically, Severus Snape, because Voldemort had been defeated the last time.

He had no idea why, just that Severus was to live.

He did not know what would happen to him if he didn't succeed. He had no doubt the Fates had something particularly unpleasant in store for him, regardless of his success or failure at this task. He'd truly had no idea until this last time that there was more at stake as far as the Fates were concerned than Tom Riddle being defeated once and for all. If he succeeded, though, he liked to think they would be somewhat lenient with whatever their punishment was.

Yes, he knew Severus was important. He wanted the wizard to survive, to be able to live the rest of his days free. Why was he held responsible for misstepping when he wasn't returned until now with all of the information?

Wasn't taking his sister in such a way punishment enough?

He would fix this, though. Voldemort would be defeated and Severus would survive.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com