It's All in the Past

Professor Snape strode about the classroom, overseeing the sixth year Gryffindor and Slytherin potions class. He was in an especially bad mood and was barking at everyone, including his precious Slytherins.

Hermione couldn't help but assume his temper was due to today's brew, memory mist. If the right ingredients were added together at an extremely high temperature, a mist would rise from the cauldron causing anyone exposed to it for long periods of time to become nostalgic. Though she knew little of her ill-tempered professor's past, she doubted it was something he would want to dwell on.

'Longbottom," he hissed.

Neville swiveled around to face Professor Snape, who continued to speak. "I'm curious to hear your explanation as to why your mist is PURPLE." he said his voice rising with each word.

"I -erm-well," Neville started pitifully.

"I see; you have just earned yourself a failing grade on this assignment Mr. Longbottom. And I want six inches of parchment on what went wrong in your potion and how you might have endangered your classmates. You will then follow up with an additional four inches on how you will try harder not to be such a bungling idiot!" Snape snapped, his voice rising on each word.

Neville bit his lip and nodded.

The majority of the Gryffindors looked highly affronted by Snape's comments, but no one dared to test his patience today. The Slytherins, especially Draco and his cronies, laughed raucously.

Hermione gritted her teeth. It hadn't been entirely Neville's fault that his potion had resulted in a purple mist; she had seen Draco dump something into Neville's cauldron a few seconds earlier. Of course, before the purple coloring had resulted the mist had been an interesting shade of green. So, she couldn't say Malfoy had been too terrible. After all, it was a very pretty shade of purple.

Finally, after he was through taking grades, Professor Snape assigned a surplus of homework and barked that class was dismissed.

There was a scraping of chairs as all the students tried to be the first to the door. Snape slumped into a chair near his desk, looking as if he had a severe migraine. Only one audacious student remained behind in the empty classroom, Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor overachiever.

'Professor, sorry to trouble you, but I was wondering when would be best to meet for my extracurricular assignment," she asked, biting her lip nervously.

Snape looked up from the floor to sneer at the 'impertinent brat' standing before him. She had really startled him for he had thought they were all gone. It was a good thing he never allowed himself to let down his guard. Every year, he loathed the making of memory mist. He had been trying for years to have it removed from the curriculum, but Dumbledore would only give him a look of sympathy and shake his head.

But back to the Granger girl and her silly project. Actually, he had to admit her project was quite brilliant. She was working with the spectrum of time and a potion that, if finished, would send the drinker back in time. Unfortunately, the founder had died before completing his work. The Granger girl was hoping to complete it, not a small feat especially for someone of her age. However, despite her intellect and a few other admirable qualities, she could be quite annoying at times, like now for instance.

"Come back later tonight," he snapped.

Hermione simply nodded her head and exited. She was quite surprised when she ran into somebody outside the door. She blushed and apologized, taking a step back. In front of her stood a tall boy with bright red hair and huge grin plastered on his face.

"Hello to you too," the boy, Ron Weasley, said still grinning.

She rolled her eyes. "You guys didn't have to wait on me."

"Yeah, but we wanted to," Harry said.

"Well, thank you."

"Oh sure, thank Harry. I'm the one who broke your fall," Ron joked.

Their laughter was interrupted by Harry's growling stomach.

"Great Hall anyone?" he asked.

"Yeah mate, I'm starving!" Ron responded adamantly.

Being a Friday night, dinner was served early so that the quidditch game could begin on time. Dumbledore had reinstated all the quidditch teams and banned players upon his return a year earlier. Harry was now the ecstatic team captain, and Ron had quit the quidditch team vowing never to never touch another broomstick as long as he lived.

Tonight was the big match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and Harry was more nervous than they had ever seen him. So, they felt it was their personal duty to keep the conversation steered clear of quidditch.

With a few minutes careful questioning, Hermione managed to direct the subject to potions class. After all, Harry and Ron would never pass up a chance to complain about Snape and anything to do with him.

"So, Neville has so much work to do, he decided not to come to dinner. He's in the common room working right now," Harry said.

"Poor guy, Snape really is an insufferable bastard. I mean he was worse than usual today. Maybe if he'd stop barking for a few minutes, Neville could concentrate," Ron mumbled through a mouth full of potatoes.

Hermione snorted. Like concentration would really help Neville. She had been his lab partner for many years. No amount of concentration was going to help him, and that was for sure.

"What is so funny?" Ron asked, irritatedly.

"Nothing....Well, maybe Neville will learn something from his paper," she said hopefully.

"Like what? That Snape is an ass? He probably already knows that, Hermione."

"That isn't funny Ron. Snape has been through a lot in his life. He probably just wants to forget it all, but memory mist doesn't exactly help the situation; does it?"

"Why do you always have to stick up for him?" Ron asked angrily.

"Yeah, if he has bad memories as a death eater, then I say let him suffer them. Enough people have suffered from those same memories," Harry added hotly.

"I can't believe you guys are so narrow-minded! You've had it easy, but you are too prejudiced to see it!"

There was silence for a moment as they both stared at Hermione. Then, their rebuttal hit her like a tidal wave.

"Oh, I've had it easy have I, Hermione? I'm an orphan. I was raised by people who hate me. Voldemort is out to kill me, even if it means hurting the people I care about. In fact, hurting other people makes it all the more fun. I've lost the only real father I've ever known. You're right. What an easy life!" Harry burst out.

Hermione hadn't heard him so wound up since the summer after fourth year when he had come to Grimmauld Place. She bit her lip slightly. She hadn't meant it that way. She really hadn't!

"Yeah, what a hard life Snape must have had. He was bloody rich! He probably sat around all day while others served him. He never had six siblings to compete with. He had everything he could ever want. He chose to become a death eater, let him suffer the consequences!" Ron said, his face turning redder as he spoke.

Hermione mouthed wordlessly like a fish out of water.

Harry stood to leave, and Ron followed him. They left without a backward glance at her. She hoped this would all blow over soon. She would give them time to blow off some steam, and then apologize later.

She waited until they were out of the Great Hall before snatching a muffin and leaving the Great Hall. She headed downstairs to the dungeons. She stuffed the muffin into her satchel; she'd give it to Neville later. Right now, she had work to do.

She knocked tentatively on Professor Snape's classroom door.

"Enter," he called.

She did so. The room was still a bit hazy with the after effects of the memory mist. She hoped she didn't start reminiscing. She really didn't have time for that now.

"Good evening Professor Snape," she greeted the surly man in the corner.

"You may begin where you left off," he said curtly.

"Yes, Sir."

She went to the back to retrieve her cauldron and levitated it to a desk. She set to work, reading carefully and adding her own notes to the side of the page. Occasionally, she would look up to stir for a few minutes.

The problem with the text was that it cut off half way through the potion. If the potion was brewed as written, it would be volatile but not very long-lasting. This meant that the person could be thrown back any number of years into the future or past. You couldn't control it. However, the effects would be short lived. Assuming the person survived, they would be returned home within a few hours or at most a few days.

Hermione hoped that one day this potion could be controlled through the quantity of ingredient usage. Then, the user could determine what year they went to. To return, all they would have to do would be brew another potion, or perhaps, a sort of boomerang effect could be added that would pull you home. Just maybe, it could be used to escape Voldemort. She took a moment to consider all the possibilities.

Now that she had finished the first half of the potion, she would have to improv from here on out. Dragon scales would definitely make the effects of the potion last longer, but with what side effects? With his permission, she borrowed some from Snape's stores. Then, she hurried back to her cauldron. In the mist, Hermione had some trouble seeing, and to her misfortune, she slipped. She reached out for something to steady herself, and her cauldron came tumbling down, spilling its contents all over her.

Everything turned dark, and she had a horrible feeling of vertigo. She opened her eyes slowly. The disaster was nowhere to be seen and neither was Snape. It was just like him to leave without seeing if she was injured.

Hermione walked out the door, trying not to cry. She was about to be sick from the horrible vertigo. She was bruised. And her perfect potion was ruined. All her work was down the drain.

She walked straight into something solid and warm. She backed up and mumbled her apologies. Then, she looked up and saw it was only Harry.

"Harry! Listen, I'm really sorry about what I said earlier," she started tears still streaming down her face.

The boy raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"I'm not Harry. My name is James." the boy said, looking confused.

Hermione took a better look at the boy. He had square framed glasses not round and probably had a good inch or two on Harry.

"James Potter?" she asked her eyes widening in shock.

"Yeah. Are you okay?" he said uneasily.

"Yeah, I-I'm fine. Just tell me what year it is."

"1977, of course."

"Oh my God," she whispered slowly.