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“Is this the same reality as the last one?” Severus asked as they arrived, back in his quarters.

Lily shook her head. “No. This one is the same as ours, right up until a couple of years ago.”

Severus didn’t get a chance to ask what had changed. He had already seen his alternate self working at the desk, an empty cauldron beside him. The room was pretty much like his own quarters were, except for an extra doorway. Through it, Severus could see another bedroom. He was saved making any enquiry as there was a echoing knock.

“Come in,” alternate-Severus called.

The Floo flared up, and a grinning Harry Potter tumbled haphazardly into the fireplace. “Hey, who works on Christmas Eve?”

He was the same age as the last Harry, though Severus could see the difference quite easily. Whilst there was still a noticeable haunted look in his eyes, they were considerably brighter than the other Harry’s.

“People with responsible jobs, that’s who,” alternate-Severus replied, sounding amused. “What do you want?”

“We were all going to play Fetch with Sirius in the garden,” Harry said, drawing nearer the desk. “He insisted. I thought you’d like to join us.”

“Playing Fetch with your dogfather?” alternate-Severus said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes! With snowballs too.”

“As delightfully … cold … that sounds, I do have to finish—”

“You’ll get to tease him forever about it.”

Alternate-Severus grinned. “That does sound incredibly tempting.”

“So you’ll come? /Please/, Severus?”

“Oh, all right! But only because I want to get a snowball in his face,” alternate-Severus said with a chuckle, standing up and reaching for his cloak.

“A Sickle says he gets one in yours first.”

Alternate-Severus put his arms on Harry’s shoulders and turned him around so he was facing the fireplace again. “Nice try, Harry, but I don’t gamble with teenagers. Now get a move on or all the snow will have melted.”

Severus and Lily stepped into the Floo with them, and emerged in the living-room of Grimmauld Place, to be immediately ambushed by snowballs.

Alternate-Severus spluttered and wiped snow off his face, while Harry laughed and muttered about the Sickle he could have won, and Sirius Black stood there grinning like an idiot. To Severus’ amusement, his counter-part smirked.

“Oh, Black; you asked for it.”

The three of them raced out into the garden, Black transforming on the way and dodging the first snowball thrown by his godson, but failed to miss the one thrown by alternate-Severus.

An all-out war started—not just the three of them, but Ron and Hermione, Lupin, the Weasley twins and their sister. The three grown-ups mainly aimed at each other, and they were all laughing.

During the game, Harry sneaked up on alternate-Severus and thrust a snowball down the back of his robes. After a howl that set everyone else off into giggles, he proceeded to chase a laughing Harry round and round the garden, pelting him with snowballs despite Harry’s protests at him using magic to do so (“Cheat!”).

“So,” Severus said quietly, watching the frivolity, “what changed here?”

“You saw how much he needed you,” Lily said simply.

“/Me?/ Lily, I agree he needs /someone/, but …”

“Not just someone, Severus. He needs you.” She held out her hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going now?”

“Christmas future,” she said sadly.

The next scene was outside in the Hogwarts grounds. A sort of marquee had been erected to keep out the snow; inside it sat several rows of chairs with an aisle in the middle. Right at the front, just behind a pair of open curtains, stood a coffin on a stone table. Candles and flowers—lots of flowers—were everywhere.
People were filing into the tent and taking their seats. Severus spotted every member of the Order; the entire Weasley family; the students that had been members of the defence club. Finally, the teachers took their seats. Severus spotted himself sidle in and take a seat next to Albus, his face a mask. Everyone else was clearly upset.

Wait a moment … Severus looked around wildly. Where was Harry Potter? There were his friends … both in tears …

A wizard came to the front, wading his way through the flower arrangements. Lily gave a choked sob, and suddenly understanding, he gripped her hand tightly.

Severus’ fears were confirmed as the wizard started speaking. “We are here to celebrate the life of Harry James Potter,” he said, evoking several sobs from the audience, “a boy who was so much more than his famous name; a boy who was kind, and brave, and …”

Severus had tuned out, looking wildly around the funeral. “Lily,” he whispered, feeling a rising panic in his chest, “what Christmas is this? How far in the future are we?”

“How far? This is next year, Severus.”

He gasped.

“… beloved by many … tragic ending …”

He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it.

“Please tell me this is … just some other alternate reality; this won’t happen … will it?”

“If nothing changes, Severus,” Lily said, gazing mournfully at her son’s coffin, “it will happen.”

“But—/how can I stop it?/”

A commotion in the audience caused him to turn round. Ron Weasley was on his feet, looking livid and glaring at someone else in the—oh. He was glaring at future-Severus.

“He shouldn’t be here!” Ron snapped, pointing furiously at him. “He never liked Harry!”

“Ron, shush …” Hermione said tearfully, glancing up at the front.

“No! This is his fault! He shouldn’t be here!”

“M-my fault?” Severus whispered, horrified.

Lily didn’t say anything.

Ron was eventually calmed down by his mother, who pulled him into her arms where he began sobbing loudly. She apologised to the little wizard in front.

Severus noticed she didn’t make any sort of apology to his counterpart. Future-Severus still sat in silence, completely impassive, and avoiding the eyes of anyone who glanced in his direction—of which there were quite a few.

The service went on. Apparently several people had all written eulogies, but in the end it was only Luna Lovegood who seemed emotionally capable of getting up and reading hers out.

Severus wasn’t really taking it in … she said something about Thestrals, and a veil—causing a sob from Lupin’s direction—and something about whispering; and Harry not being gone, but just out of sight. At the end she lay a very strange-looking flower on the casket and returned to her seat, silent tears now running down her face as well as everyone else’s.

The service ended with the curtains pulled, and, Severus knew from being at one of these before, the body being cremated into ashes. “Harry wouldn’t have wanted a grave for everyone to come and gawp at … he would have just wanted to rest peacefully in his favourite place.”

The ashes were released into the grounds, and the funeral was over.

Future-Severus had got to his feet and was hurrying after Albus, who seemed to be trying to avoid him.

“Albus, I …”

“I don’t want to hear it, Severus.”

“I-I’m sorry,” future-Severus said anyway. “I know it—doesn’t bring him back—”

“No, it doesn’t,” Albus said in a hollow voice.

“I know you blame me—”

“I blame all of us,” Albus said, his temper rising. “But you’re the one who helped him lose any self-confidence he had. Who made him think he stood no chance at defeating Voldemort, let alone surviving it. Yes, I admit, I should have seen what was going on—we all should have—but ultimately, your belittling didn’t exactly help him!”

“That’s enough, you two!” Minerva was in floods, but still managed to break up the argument. “This isn’t going to solve anything. And H-Harry wouldn’t have wanted anyone fighting at his f-funeral.”

“No,” Albus said shortly. “He wouldn’t have.”

There was a very awkward pause.

“Albus, I’m sorry,” future-Severus said again, sounding almost timid. “For what it’s worth … I see now I … I was wrong about him.”

“Oh good. It’s just a shame you didn’t see it before he killed himself.”

TBC …