Why We Fight

Part 37:
Madigan Flaherty
(Sunday, November 13, 1977 - Continued...)

Severus Snape, astonishingly enough, had never been in the Potions master's office before this moment. Slughorn had always had his favorites, and Severus had never been one of them. Even Severus, a Potions fanatic since his mother had given him his first Potions set for his seventh birthday, couldn't stand Flaherty. Since the Halloween Masque, he'd been wondering what Flaherty and Dumbledore were up to. Now, he supposed, he'd find out.

The Potions office hadn't been redecorated since Flaherty had taken the position last year and definitely bore the fingerprint of Slughorn. The youth's obsidian eyes trailed over the moving pictures in their gilded frames of Slughorn with various famous people of the Wizarding World. He couldn't decide which teacher he disliked less. Slughorn was a blowhard who'd rather regale the class with tales of famous people he'd met than actually trying to teach. Flaherty didn't teach much at all, he preferred to let the students come up with their own ways of doing the potions.

Severus appreciated the challenge, and he could appreciate Flaherty's demanding nature. But there were limits to Severus's patience, and Flaherty's criticism of his perfect potions made him extremely irate. Flaherty entered the room from the Potions closet. "Ah, hello, Severus, so good to see you."

Severus stiffened as the professor entered the room. "Hello, Professor Flaherty," the dark-haired youth said.

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here," the professor said, examining a vial of ground unicorn horn. The teenager bit back his reply. "There are multiple reasons. The first being your project with Miss Evans." The professor peered over his horn-rimmed glasses and examined the student before him. "I understand that the two of you were friends once."

The dark-haired youth's sallow skin became waxen. "Once," he said.

"Then why can't you work together?" Flaherty looked at Severus over his horn-rimmed spectacles, analyzing the teenager before he abruptly changed the subject. "Professor Dumbledore has asked me to help you with your...alliances." Severus simply stared at the professor. With a roll of his silver-blue eyes, the professor continued, "I'm going to teach you Occlumency."

"Occlumency," Severus repeated.

"Yes. You're going to need it in the time to come," Flaherty replied, placing the ground unicorn horn back in its place in the cabinet. "Do you wish to start today? Or shall we schedule a day to meet?"

Severus was still rather put off by the professor's sudden change of subject. "Er...we can schedule a day to meet," he stated.

"Is eight o'clock in the evening good for you, Mr. Snape?" Flaherty inquired, examining a calendar. Severus nodded. "Very well. I'll expect you here at seven forty-five every evening. This is most vital, Mr. Snape. You must understand that." Another mute nod from the teenager. "Very well, you're free to go." The black-haired youth frowned and left the Potions office; the professor watching with interest. As soon as Severus was out of sight, Flaherty closed his office door and entered his personal chambers. This had been the only room he'd changed since Slughorn had left. It wasn't nearly as opulent as Slughorn's office; in fact, it was rather Spartan. Masculine, dark wood furniture with accents of red. He sighed and sat on his bed, reaching his hands under his robe until his long, knotty fingers encircled the thick, silver chain that hung from his thin neck with its prominent Adam's apple and fingered the little medallion that hung from it. With a sigh, he took off the necklace and, immediately, there was a change.

The short, elderly man grew a few inches in a few seconds. The thin, bony arms with knotty joints grew thicker and muscular. The age spots and wrinkles disappeared revealing pale, young flesh. The thinning, gray hair grew into shoulder-length black curls. The bulbous nose was replaced by a nose that seemed like it belonged on a Greek statue. He had heavy-lidded silvery-blue eyes, high cheekbones, a pointed face, and had an arrogant handsomeness about him. The man ran his hands through his hair with a groan and got ready for bed, taking care to put the amulet in a safe place overnight.

He lay his head on the pillows and, just as he was about to fall asleep, there was the sound of a door opening. He sat up in bed, grabbing the amulet. Just as he was about to put the amulet back on, a voice said, "It's okay, it's just me." The professor scowled as he recognized the voice. With a muttered growl, the lights sprang to life. Regulus Black examined the professor with interest. "You know, you should wear that form more often, it gives me hope for my future."

The professor glared at Regulus. "He'd recognize me," he stated.

"We're talking about Sirius, right?" Regulus said.

"He's not as stupid as we'd like to think he is," the professor muttered, putting the amulet back in its place. "What're you doing here anyway?"

"Came to see how things went with Snivellus."

"Don't call him that." Regulus shrugged in response. "He's going to help save the world."

"And so are we...me...you. Ugh, which is it?"

"Let's settle for 'we' or 'us,'" the professor stated. "It's too confusing any other way."

Regulus sighed and shoved a hand through his dark hair. "What about this entire situation isn't confusing?" he questioned.

"Such a good point," the man said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He could feel a migraine coming on. Those seemed to be happening a lot lately.

"I'm still trying to figure out where you came from," Regulus said.

"Well, when two people have special feelings for one another--" the older man started. Regulus rolled his eyes. "We went over this: teleportation potion gone wrong."

"Why here? Why this time?"

"To save your--our--sorry ass," the professor said.

"And just what have you accomplished?"

"Well, you're not a Slytherin."

"What's wrong with being a Slytherin? Although, I loved Mum's meltdown when I was sorted into Gryffindor. It made my month."

A sly smile crossed the older man's lips. "That was pretty spectacular," he agreed. "Time is a--"

"You're not going to go into the string theory again, are you?" Regulus demanded. "I'm so sick of you using string theory as an excuse. You blundered. And, somehow, you ended up here. I'm going to die in the past. Do you have any idea how much that bloody well sucks?"

Regulus peered at his younger self. "I have an idea," he said drolly. "Anyway, you don't stand a chance with Queenie Greengrass. And that's a good thing. She's a black widow. Has a thing for rich men, and then they suddenly die. She was on number three, an Italian bloke, last I heard. His time is limited."

"Really? Queenie? She seemed so--"

"A trick. You'd best be headed back; Lupin's going to be in a bad mood again. It looks bad to have my students running amok."

Regulus stared at his older self for a long moment and, with a shake of his head, he left the office. The older Regulus examined the medallion that held his rather difficult illusion spell, placed it back on the bedside table and lay his head on his pillow. He soon fell into a dreamless sleep.