A Looping of the Scales ~ COMPLETED

Chapter 3 ~ What? No!

Hermione, Harry, Ginny and Ron were down by the lake. On such a lovely day, they should have been enjoying the fresh air and each other’s company.

But no.

They were down there with piles of books and parchments, studying, thanks to Hermione who believed all the running about trying to find Horcruxes and killing Voldemort had knocked what little knowledge Harry and Ron had managed to absorb over the years right out of their heads, and she was determined they got it all back. So, she wasn’t just reviewing fifth and sixth year work, but fourth and third as well.

”You’ve both got to get back on the broom, particularly if you want to be Aurors,” Hermione said imperiously.

”I was actually thinking about working with George, Hermione,” Ron said to his girlfriend.

”You still need to study,” she snapped back at him. “Now, do that Arithmancy problem and stop complaining. Honestly.”

Ron sighed. Ginny was smirking. She was just along for moral support although she was studying too. Hermione wasn’t on her like she was the two wizards. Ginny still had another year to go.

Ron groaned and looked over at Harry, who was studiously reading an Advanced Herbology textbook. Or appeared to be. Inside it was a very small Quidditch magazine. Hermione eyed him. Harry was never that absorbed in reading. Ever.

She walked up and snatched the book out of his hand and looked at it.

”Ah ha!” she exclaimed, holding up the offending little magazine. “Harry—how do you expect to---“

”Harry! Ron! Hermione! Ginny! You’re never going to believe this!”

Hermione was cut off mid browbeat mode by a very excited Neville, who was running toward them, his robes whipping around his legs. He was shouting at them.

”Believe what?” Ron said, putting down his parchment, glad for a break.

”Snape. It’s—it’s Snape,” Neville said, leaning on a boulder and attempting to catch his breath.

”What about Snape?” Harry asked with concern.

“He’s—he’s—“

”Dead?” Ron offered helpfully as both Harry and Hermione scowled at him. Ron still felt he was a git despite all he’d done. He certainly wasn’t any nicer. You’d think the death of Voldemort would have softened him a little. But no, Snape was even snarkier than ever. No one realized that Harry’s constant attempts at forming a bond with him was irritating beyond belief to the dark wizard.

The boy couldn’t seem to understand what, “Just go away and stay away,” meant. Snape fervently wished Voldemort had taken Harry Potter into the Great Beyond with him. He just added to the bad memories every time he walked into view.

“No—not dead,” Neville panted. “Not—dead.”

”Neville, just take a moment and breathe. Don’t talk. Just breathe,” Hermione suggested to the over-excited wizard.

After a minute or two, Neville was able to form a coherent sentence.

”There’s been some kind of potions accident and Snape’s been turned young,” he blurted out.

”Young? How young?” Harry asked, stunned.

”Well, I haven’t seen him, but they say he’s about our age,” Neville replied. “He’s in the infirmary with McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey and professor Flitwick.”

“Wow,” Ron said. “He’s young enough to kick his arse.”

”Ron!” Hermione said disapprovingly.

”Just a thought, Hermione. I wouldn’t really do it, unless he started it.”

Hermione let out a sigh as Harry started gathering up his books.

”I want to see him,” he said as he stuffed everything in his knapsack. Everyone else followed suit as Neville waited.

”No one can see him,” Neville said. “They’re being hush-hush about it, but everyone knows what happened. And Harry—“

”Yeah?”

”Draco said he blamed what happened on your father.”

They all started walking toward the castle.

”My father? But my father’s been dead for years. Snape knows that.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed.

”Maybe he’s been turned young in mind, too,” she suggested.

”In mind?” Ron repeated.

”Yes. Maybe when he lost his age, he lost the memories associated with that age. Your father wasn’t dead when he was our age, Harry.”

Harry looked incredulous.

”But that would mean, he wouldn’t remember joining Voldemort, or spying or anything,” he said.

”Yes,” Hermione said, looking a bit sad. “And it would mean that he doesn’t know your mother’s dead either, Harry.”

Harry frowned. He remembered from the memories given him how broken Snape was when he found out his mother was dead, and he was older than he was now. This was awful. He was going to have to go through that again.

”Let’s get to the castle,” he said, speeding up.

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Snape was sitting on a cot in the infirmary in just his dingy underwear, red-faced and sullen as Poppy and Flitwick passed wands over him and spoke cryptically to each other.

”There’s no magical signature other than his natural one. I’m not registering any spell,” Poppy said to Flitwick, who was standing on a chair and doing his own checking.

”Spell? What spell?” Snape asked. He’d been taken aback by Poppy’s appearance as well. He remembered her much younger. Flitwick looked like he always did. Little and ancient.

”Be quiet, Severus,” Flitwick chided him.

Snape fell silent, but marveled over Flitwick’s familiar use of his first name. Usually students were addressed by their surnames and a Miss or Mr. added according to their gender.

Flitwick finally put down his wand and shook his head.

”No, there’s no additional magical signature. Without a signature, a spell cannot degrade or wear off. Whatever has happened to Severus, it appears to be permanent,” the wizard said.

”What’s permanent? What’s going on?” Snape demanded, frightened.

”You can get dressed, Severus,” Poppy said to him sympathetically, picking the robes up off the chair. It was then she smelled the dried blood and looked at the robes. On the back was crusted blood that stiffened the fabric, holes in the middle of them. Quickly she walked over to Snape, leaning him forward and inspecting his back. It was fine, except she could see the bones of his spine, but that was because he was thin.

”What is this blood from?” she asked him, holding up the robes.

Snape shrugged.

”I don’t know. Those aren’t my robes,” he replied. “Someone put them on me. I’m sure it was James Potter and his friends.”

Poppy and Flitwick looked at him sadly.

”Severus, what year is it?” Flitwick asked him.

”What?”

”What year is it?”

“The year? 1978.”

Poppy and Flitwick looked at each other and Snape knew he wasn’t being told something important.

”I’ll bring you a set of robes that fit you, Severus, then you can get dressed.”

Poppy and Flitwick exited through the privacy curtain and Snape was left alone and next to naked on the cot. He shivered slightly.

“How is he?” Minerva asked Flitwick as Poppy retrieved a set of better fitting robes for Snape.

”Physically, he’s fine, Minerva, but I fear whatever he’s done to himself, it’s permanent. There are no magical signatures coming off of him that indicate he is under temporary magic or an influence that will wear off.”

”You mean we can’t restore him?”

”I’m afraid not, not completely. Aging spells are temporary on humans, and I’m afraid that Severus’ problem goes much deeper than just his physical age. He thinks the year is 1978, Minerva. The year he graduated.”

Minerva covered her mouth with her hand in horror.

”Oh no, Filius,” she said in a muffled voice.

“He’s lost his memories. It’s as if his entire adult life has been—erased.”

Minerva plopped down in Poppy’s chair.

“How are we going to tell him, Filius? How are we supposed to tell him his entire adult life has been wiped out?”

”Carefully,” the Charms teacher replied. “We have to be careful how we tell him.”

Just then, the doors to the infirmary opened and Hermione and Harry entered, floating a groaning Ron before them on a stretcher.

”Oh my, what’s happened to Mr. Weasley?” Poppy exclaimed as they entered.

”He was whomped off his broom by the Whomping Willow. He flew too close during a game of Broom Tag,” Harry lied.

Hermione didn’t look at Poppy, she was looking at the boy who emerged from behind a black privacy curtain and was walking toward them quickly, his face in a snarl.

His face was pale, his nose was huge and his hair was lank. Gods, was this what Snape looked like when he was younger? He stormed up to Harry, hate flashing in his eyes.

”Where’d you put my wand, Potter? Tell me now or I’m going to—“

“I’m not James Potter,” Harry said quickly.

Flitwick and Minerva ran out of Poppy’s office.

”Harry, no!” Minerva cried out, and Snape looked over at her then back at Harry, who kept right on going.

“I’m Harry Potter. James Potter’s son. My mother was Lily Evans,” he said.

Snape blinked at him.

”What? What are you trying to pu—“

Then, he saw them. The eyes. He stepped closer staring into those familiar eyes. He recognized those green orbs staring back at him out of James Potter’s face. Snape stepped back, shaking his head slowly.

”What’s—going—on—here?” he asked in a whisper as everyone stared back at him.

”WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?” he screamed. “I don’t believe you! I don’t believe you!”

Snape ran out of the infirmary.

”Oh, catch him, Harry!” Hermione cried.

Harry tore after Snape, running through the students outside, some of whom were following Snape too as he caught the stairs, riding them up to the seventh floor, then tearing down them to Gryffindor tower. A girl was coming out of the entrance and Snape pushed her aside, running into the common room.

”LILY! LILY!” he screamed, then tried to run up the stairs to the girl’s dorms. Of course it turned into a slide and he slid down. He turned to the stunned students and grabbed Parvati Patil by the arm desperately.

”Please, could you go get Lily Evans?” he asked her. “I need to see her!”

Harry ran in and skidded to a stop as he heard Snape ask for his mother.

”There’s no Lily Evans in Gryffindor,” Parvati said, trying to pull her arm away.

”What do you mean there’s no Lily Evans? She’s going to graduate this year! She goes out with that slug, Potter! Lily! Lily!”

Harry walked up and pulled Parvati’s arm out of Snape’s grip as the boy called for Lily as if his heart would break. Harry caught his shoulder.

”Professor, she’s not going to answer you, because she’s not here. She hasn’t been here for years,” he said gently.

Snape whirled on him.

”What’s—what’s happening?” he said brokenly. “Where’s Lily? Where’s everyone?”

”Lily Evans—Lily Potter—my mother is dead,” Harry said softly.

Snape looked into those green eyes and felt something break apart inside him. He knew, he just knew this boy with Lily’s eyes was telling him the truth.

“No—nononononono, she’s not! She’s not! Lily! Awwww Lily!”

Tears streamed down his face as Snape dropped to his knees, great sobs wracking his body as everyone stared at him. “No, how can she be dead? How?”

”Voldemort killed her. Tom Riddle,” Harry said quietly.

Snape stopped crying and looked up at Harry his face distorted.

”Now I know you’re lying. He would never kill her . . . he knew how I felt about her, how I feel about her. You’re lying! LYING!”

Snape jumped up and ran out of the common room, kicking at the portrait until it opened then flying down the stairwells, jumping from them and nearly missing in his haste. He tore across the entrance hall and out to the grounds, running, running, running until he hit the gates and climbed over them, unable to unward them.

Lily. No, not Lily. She couldn’t be dead. He stood outside the gate, unable to figure out what to do, the world reeling around him. He wanted to go see for himself. He needed to see for himself. Suddenly, he heard a soft voice.

”Is there somewhere you’d like to go?”

He looked up to see a bushy-haired witch with brown eyes looking back at him. Hermione had headed out of the castle for the gates the moment he and Harry headed for Gryffindor Tower. She knew he’d run away because she would do it too, if she was in his shoes.

Snape’s face was still wet from his tears.

”Yes, I want to go to Lily’s house at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging in Surrey. Her parents live there—“

Hermione wanted to tell him that Lily’s parents no longer lived there. Her sister Petunia had rebuilt and took over the house after they were killed, and now lived there with her husband Vernon and their son, Dudley. But the look of desperation in his eyes wouldn’t let her do it. Ron and Harry were running across the grounds toward them, trailed by other students.

”Hermione! What are you doing?” Ron called as Hermione walked up to Snape, took his arm and Disapparated with him.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.