Chapter 3
The Marauders were well-acquainted with the interior of Hogwarts’ Headmaster’s office, having been called up numerous times thanks to their reckless pranks and mischievous natures. Sirius stepped out of the hearth with a grace and dignity one could only acquire after years of practice with magical transportation and casually took in his surroundings as he strode forward to join his friends, who were crowded around Dumbledore’s desk.
The office was as full and chaotic as it had been what felt like yesterday to Sirius, but was actually a long time ago. Some small bits and bops had been added, while other objects – magical or otherwise – had been replaced or removed somewhere down the line.
Sirius sat down on the armrest of Peter’s chair, following Peter’s gaze to the many portraits adorning the wall. All of its occupants – the past headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts – were staring back, eyes glimmering with curiosity as they gossiped with their neighbouring portraits.
“Bless my soul, it’s Lily Potter!”
Immediately the portraits started tittering and Lily’s cheeks flushed as brightly as her flaming red hair, under all the attention.
“and James Potter! And is that… Sirius Black?”
“Hi, Phineas.” Sirius greeted the one Headmaster he was familiar with. He’d met his ancestor before, he had a connecting portrait in Grimmauld after all, but Sirius hadn’t seen the man since he’d finally ran away and moved in with the Potters, last summer. “How are you?”
Phineas was a clever looking wizard, with black hair, narrow dark eyes and thin eyebrows that were usually slanted downwards in disapproval, whenever Sirius was near enough to look at them. Now, the man’s his beedy black eyes were widened in disbelieving gratitude. “Sirius Black, as I live and breathe.” He whispered.
Sirius felt compelled to point out that Phineas was made of paint; he wasn’t living or breathing, not really, but as he watched tears well up in Phineas’ normally cold and detached eyes, he decided to refrain. “It’s good to see you.” He said instead. And it was true. Sirius might not have liked most of his family and ancestors due to their pure-blood mania, Phineas included, but it was still comforting to see someone familiar from his own time period.
“Y-you were dead.” Stammered Phineas. “and now you look young .”
“Time travel accident.” Sirius shrugged, not feeling like explaining all over again.
Something in the words must’ve pushed poor Phineas over the edge, because he burst into loud tears. “You were the last Black and you died childless ! Our family legacy… it was gone for good, but now…!”
Sirius smiled wryly. He should’ve known that the Black wasn’t upset with his passing, but the demise of the family line. “Where was Regulus? Did he finally see the light and drop our dear mother?”
“Ah, Regulus.” Sniffed Phineas wistfully, wiping at his teary eyes. “It was such a tragedy. Then again, the war took so many… what a waste of potential, it was. Your brother was a bright boy, a talented wizard.”
Remus, Lily and James shared alarmed looks, as Snape and Peter gasped. Sirius felt himself pale. “ What ? He… he died ?” At Phineas’ mournful nod, Sirius let out a low, strangled sound. “When? What happened?”
“Oh how I wish I could say.” Phineas despaired, as a fellow past-headmaster from a neighbouring portrait entered his frame to pat him consolingly on the shoulder. “No one knows. His body wasn’t ever recovered, but one day, not long after his eighteenth birthday, his picture simply faded from the Family Tapestry. May Death rest his young soul.”
It felt like the world had suddenly tilted off its axis. The floor felt unsteady under Sirius’ soles and he had to grip the armrest he was seated on tightly, to not slide right to the floor. He wasn’t completely sure he would still be upright, if it weren’t for James’ hand rested on his shoulder, physically grounding him.
Somehow the news of Regulus’ death was more painful to Sirius than hearing about his own. If Regulus had died as early as eighteen… that was only a few years from their time. There was something profoundly wrong with that. The thought of Regulus, of his little brother, pale and unmoving, was unbearable in every way. Sirius felt as if he were going to be sick.
“Oh Sirius.” Lily whispered, bottom lip trembling. She stood from her chair and rushed forwards, hugging her shell-shocked friend close. Sirius couldn’t help but bury his head in her neck and letting his salty tears drip silently into her hair.
Nobody quite knew what to say, as the boy cried. James felt tears itch in the corners of his eyes, unable to repress them as he saw his best friend hurt. Peter and Remus looked pained as well and the portraits looked at the living’s suffering with pity. Even Snape looked sombre, though he appeared mainly discomfited as he fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair.
By the time the fireplace flared green once more, Sirius had pulled away from Lily and dried his tears, though his eyes were still red around the rims, his cheeks a pasty white.
“I apologize for my tardiness.” Dumbledore told the teenagers, as he walked around his desk to take a seat in his chair. “Professor Snape and I had some urgent business to discuss and I am not as quick as I once was. Now, however, I am completely free to focus on your exceptional circumstances.” At his students’ silence, he raised an expectant eyebrow, though his eyes still twinkled friendlily. “Could one of you explain to me, in detail, what exactly conspired to land you here in my office tonight?”
All eyes slid over to Snape, who coloured at the pointedness of their gazes. He huffed out a puff of breath, but he did bashfully repeat what he’d told his older self, earlier. For the next half an hour Dumbledore asked increasingly in-depth questions about the spell Snape used, why he’d chosen that specific spell, where he’d learned the spell, which books he’d read on it, who had recommended each book… by the end of the conversation Snape looked agitated and Dumbledore’s ever-present twinkle had gone out.
“Professor,” Remus whispered softly, when the prolonged silence began to unnerve him. “You do have a plan to get us back… right?”
Dumbledore looked unusually grave, as his gaze settled on Remus. “I am afraid not, Mr. Lupin.”
Remus swallowed. “Not?”
“Not.” Dumbledore confirmed, looking apologetic. “Your circumstances are unprecedented and should, frankly, have been impossible. Time travel in any direction, over a distance as far as you have travelled, is unheard of. At this moment, there is no reliable spell, potion, ritual or invention, that has the capability of purposefully sending someone over two decades back in time.”
James’ increasingly tight grasp on Sirius’ shoulder was only a fraction away from being painful.
“But…” Sirius’ eyes flitted to Lily, who looked ashen and whose voice was shaky. “but we got here somehow, surely there must be way to get back.”
Dumbledore’s features twisted into the picture of sympathy. “I am sorry, Ms. Evans, but if Mr. Snape has been entirely truthful, searching for a solution will be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”
Lily turned to Snape, desperate. “Sev,” she whispered, voice wobbly. “Sev, please. Please tell me…” She trailed off, as if unsure whether she’d rather he’d lied.
Severus swallowed and evaded her gaze. “I’m sorry, Lily. I’m sorry.”
“The only reason you’ve somehow landed here, is because of a spell-malfunction. While it is possible another malfunction in another spell would have the opposite effect, resulting in you travelling back, there is no way to predict which spell and malfunction would be the key. It would be a dangerous trial of try and error. Frankly, the chance of other malfunctions having lethal consequences are vastly higher than one having success.”
A cheerless silence followed that statement. “Professor,” Remus eventually broke the silence once more. “what does this mean for the timeline? I mean… if we disappeared back in 1976, how is it possible that we saw an adult Snape in this time?”
“Excellent question.” Dumbledore complimented, giving a small smile to the group of shell-shocked teenagers. “Seeing as I cannot recall any of you going missing and none of the adult-versions of you have memory of these events, I presume that the timeline you are from, has split. You travelled to the timeline where you didn’t disappear, while there is a parallel timeline where you have gone missing.”
Sirius felt his heart jump at the thought of a timeline where they’d disappeared without a trace. Fleamont and Euphemia would be inconsolable, losing James and him. His own parents probably wouldn’t care much, but Regulus would never know what had happened to him. Lily, Peter and Remus’ parents would probably be heartbroken too.
“Now,” Dumbledore’s voice pulled Sirius from his spiralling thoughts. “I know that this is overwhelming, but we have to be realistic and look at the future. You are here now, you can’t go home, which means that somehow we’ll have to make this era your home.”
James frowned at the thought of just accepting defeat and giving up on ever seeing his parents again, but even though he seemed troubled, he didn't speak up to argue the point with Dumbledore right now. Sirius swallowed and nudged his shoulder to James' in a silent sign of support. Lily was staring hard at her trembling hands, Remus was quietly consoling a crying Peter. Severus Snape, to put it bluntly, looked like he wanted to lay down and die in a corner.
At least all the people that made any place home for Sirius, were here. Despite this all being Snape’s stupid fault, Sirius felt a stab of sympathy for the other boy, who was here alone with only enemies and an ex-friend for company.
“I assume you already have some plans in mind?” Snape guessed, voice quiet.
“Had you been from the future, a new identity would've had to be made from scratch. Secrecy would've been important, to preserve the timeline. As time travellers from the past however, I see no reason to hide your true names.” Dumbledore told them. “I think what’s most important it catching you up with the times. There are also some people that you should meet.”
“Like who?” Asked James.
“Well, as soon as I’ve finished my explanation, if you’re ready to see him,” Dumbledore began carefully, peering over his half-mooned spectacles like a historian observing an intriguing piece of history happening right in front of him. “I think your son, Harry, would love the opportunity to finally meet his parents.”
“A son?!”
"Wait whose son?"
“We’re parents?”
“No way!”
“What ?”
Dumbledore looked faintly amused at the reactions in the room, before a shadow slid back over his face and his earnestness returned. “A lot has happened in the past two decades and I’m going to tell you everything, holding nothing back, no matter how hard some things might be to hear.” He looked at each of the teen’s faces individually, as if to gauge how they’d all take it. “I’d like for you to remain as quiet as you can possibly be, while I tell you what has transpired. Save any questions you might have for the end, for we will never reach the end with countless interruptions.”
Everyone nodded.
“I would also like to remind you, that while these events have happened, none of the people in this room except myself, have done anything as of yet. Punishing someone for the choices of their future self, choices that they will now never make, is, while understandable, not quite fair.”
Sirius fidgeted nervously, finding Dumbledore’s warnings ominous.
Then Dumbledore started talking, and hell if that horrific story wasn’t the most terrible thing Sirius had ever heard in his sixteen years of life.