Prologue
Sunday, November 1st, 1981
Severus blinked awake, confused in a way that reminded him of unplanned mid-day naps. The ones where you felt like you were in an alternate universe, both rested and exhausted, for at least an hour after waking.
Had he just been taking a nap?
No.
No, he had just died.
He was in the Shrieking Shack, Voldemort had sicked Nagini on him believing he was the master of The Elder Wand. He was bitten and poisoned and died.
He definitely died; the last thing he remembered was Harry Potter’s eyes. Lily Evans’s eyes.
He was in his childhood bedroom, in Spinner’s End, Cokeworth, lying on his old, lumpy, mattress.
What was going on?
Standing quickly, Severus forced himself to go to the living room where he knew a calendar and clock would be; the things that held the answers to all the questions he had as the one thing he always kept true about the house was an accurate clock and calendar. That way he would never be late for his first day of school when he was a student, and later the day he had to go into Hogwarts every year and set up his classroom before the school year started.
Walking made him realize his body felt wrong.
He definitely hadn’t ever been bit by a highly venomous snake, and his muscles ached way less. At the same time his body felt like live wire as it had for a few years after the end of the first Wizarding War from all the Cruciatus curses Voldemort used on him and the tattoo on his left arm felt sensitive, but dead, in a way it hadn’t for nearly ten years.
The calendar confirmed it.
According to the calendar, which magically updated itself to make sure he wouldn’t forget, especially when he was on missions, claimed it was November 1st, 1981 which meant Lily and James Potter had only been dead for a few hours as the clock informed him it was 12:06 A.M.
What was going on?
Had it all been a dream? Was this new world a Hell-like place made to torture him by Voldemort? Were the religious right and this was an actual Hell?
Not a dream, his dreams were never that concise or plot-based unless they were flashbacks. Not a Hell made by Voldemort because for all he knew Severus was dead. Not an actual Hell, he refused to believe what the religious had to say.
Then what?
Had he actually gone back in time? It was the only possible answer, but how? He hadn’t been in-contact with a Time Turner or any other time travel device nor had anyone performed a spell on him, if one even existed.
Maybe it was because of the memories he gave Harry Potter? Or perhaps Death took pity on him? Or had someone performed a spell on his corpse that led him here?
There was no way of knowing so he decided to put it on the back burner and focus on what he did know. That being that he had a pool of knowledge about the future and plenty of time to save Harry Potter.
He could save Harry Potter this time.
The first time, when he found Lily’s corpse, there was really nothing he could do for the boy as, who he had thought was Sirius Black, was outside to take him. And he had thought that what would happen to the boy with Sirius Black, or wherever he ended up, would be much better than what Severus could provide him.
He knew better now.
He knew better and he could fix it.
He still wasn’t the biggest fan of Harry Potter, but dying changed a person. Anyway, this was a baby, Lily Evans’s baby, and that definitely changed things.
It was his duty to protect the child; he tried during his first life, but it didn’t work, he failed. This time though, this time he would not accept ‘no’ as an answer.
Harry Potter would have a good, safe, happy, life if it killed him.
Again.