The moment the Hogwarts Express had slipped out of view behind the trees, a strange quiet fell over the castle grounds. Summer had arrived in full, draping the hills in gold and green, but Severus Snape wasn't fooled by the illusion of peace.
He stood near the lake's edge, his robes still as shadows in the breeze, arms folded tightly. Somewhere behind him, Hagrid's laughter echoed faintly from his hut, the giant's voice mingling with the distant splash of the giant squid enjoying a warmer-than-usual afternoon. But Severus's attention remained inward, focused.
For days now, his thoughts had returned to the strange feelings twisting inside him. Something was off—something subtle, deep beneath the surface of his carefully structured days. The interactions between Harry and Draco, once irritating distractions, now occupied more of his attention than he liked to admit.
But more pressing was the weight of his own memories. Not just the future he carried like a burden, but the changes happening around him. He had done things differently this time—spoken to Harry more gently, shielded him more openly, and allowed himself a place in the boy's life that the old Snape would never have considered.
And that worried him.
He turned slowly at the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Severus," came Dumbledore's warm voice, tinged with unspoken amusement, "if you brood any harder, I fear you'll summon a storm."
Snape arched a brow but didn't bother denying it. "I'm merely thinking."
Dumbledore stepped beside him, hands clasped behind his back, eyes on the lake. "About the coming year?"
"Among other things," Snape muttered. "I'm concerned. Too much is changing too quickly."
"Ah." Dumbledore nodded as if expecting that. "Yes, the ripples are growing wider."
Snape turned sharply. "You've noticed, then?"
"The timeline is bending in curious places," the headmaster said lightly. "Small deviations. Your actions have already altered the future's shape. But you knew that might happen."
Snape's lips thinned. "Harry is stronger than I expected. Smarter, too. He's begun questioning things he shouldn't have touched until fifth year."
"Curious minds will always seek," Dumbledore said. "Especially when guided by someone who knows how to ask the right questions."
Snape scowled. "It wasn't intentional."
"No," Dumbledore agreed, "but it was inevitable. He admires you, you know."
The words struck harder than Snape anticipated. "He shouldn't."
"And yet," Dumbledore smiled gently, "he does. Children are remarkably stubborn that way."
Snape shook his head, watching the water ripple. "Draco's changed, too."
"Because of Harry?"
Snape hesitated. "Perhaps. Or because I've interfered in his education more than Lucius would approve of."
"Lucius doesn't know," Dumbledore said, "and I doubt he will unless you tell him."
"I have no plans to," Snape said stiffly. "But Draco's attention to Harry… it's becoming… complicated."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Affection, at that age, often is."
Snape gave him a sharp look. "They're still just boys."
"Of course. And if you guide them well, they may yet grow into men we can be proud of."
Snape turned away, jaw tight. "We'll see."
—
Back inside the castle, the corridors felt strangely empty without the constant flow of students. Snape had always enjoyed the quiet of summer. But this year, the silence pressed against him differently—like something was watching, waiting.
He headed toward his office, pausing only briefly outside the Gryffindor common room. He never admitted it aloud, but part of him checked it out of habit now. Harry had already returned to the Dursleys for the break, but still, Snape lingered for a second longer than necessary.
A memory rose, unbidden: Harry handing him that small, clumsily wrapped package last Christmas. A gift. Something no one had given him in years.
Snape shook the thought away and descended into the dungeons.
Once in his office, he began sorting through his notes. His plans for the coming year were meticulous—adjustments to curriculum, new countercurses for the fourth years, private assignments for Harry meant to prepare him early. The Goblet of Fire would arrive soon. Snape intended to be ready.
But something tugged at the edge of his thoughts.
He moved to the bookshelf behind his desk and pulled down an old volume: Potioneering by Design. Tucked between its pages was a folded parchment. Snape opened it slowly, revealing a faded drawing. It was simple—two stick figures and a large bat—done in crayon. He remembered this.
A very young Draco had drawn it. The 'bat' had been him, of course. And the other figure was Draco himself, proudly holding a wand.
Snape's mouth twisted. He sat heavily at his desk, the parchment still in hand. He hadn't seen the boy in years before returning to the past. Now, the Draco he taught was arrogant, yes—but searching for something. And Harry... Harry kept unsettling the boy in ways even Draco didn't understand.
Their bickering, the stolen glances, the quiet tension whenever they stood too close…
Snape closed his eyes. He had to be careful.
—
Two weeks passed quietly. Snape took meals in the staff room, exchanged occasional words with Minerva and Pomona, and otherwise kept to his research.
But then, an owl came.
The letter was sealed in plain brown wax. Snape broke it carefully, expecting a routine Ministry notice—but the contents were far from ordinary.
> "To Professor Severus Snape,
We are conducting a quiet investigation into the nature of a certain magical artifact recently recovered in the north. Given your… particular skill set and history with irregular magical signatures, your expertise is required. Discretion is paramount.
Details will follow. Be prepared.
—M."
Snape reread the message twice.
This was no normal request. The handwriting was precise, unfamiliar, but whoever had sent it knew things they shouldn't.
He leaned back in his chair.
An investigation. A magical artifact. "Irregular magical signatures…"
Something told him this was connected to the war that hadn't yet begun—something dark beginning to stir beneath the surface.
He would need to be ready. And he would need to ensure Harry and Draco were ready, too, even if they didn't yet understand why.
Snape reached for fresh parchment and began writing instructions for private lessons.
This time, he wouldn't let history repeat itself.