Author's Note: Follows DH for the most part. Extra plot will be revealed gradually. ^_~

The Time That Never Was

Harry could hear voices around him as he was coming out of the fog of unconsciousness. He heard the familiar voice of someone he treasured.

"He's too stubborn to kick the bucket, just like his father."

Harry, despite the pain, forced his eyes open, straining against the weight. He felt nauseous as he force his eyes to focus beyond his poor sight. Above him, he could see the man he never thought he'd see again. "Severus!" Adrenaline forced him out of the bed he was on in order to latch himself to the man in front of him. "Thank Merlin you're alive!" He clung hard to the man, unable to believe the heart beneath his ear was actually beating.

What came next was not what Harry expected. The man he accosted struggled out of his grasp and shoved him harshly to the ground. "Get off me you wretch!" He said with disgust. "Just the thing to make my day miserable, having the Potter brat throwing himself at yet another body."

Harry felt sick, but he heard perfectly what the man said, and it stung. He slowly got up and looked around. He was in the infirmary at Hogwarts, and everything was still. No screams, no destruction, no nothing. He struggled towards the window and gasped in surprise. "The battle is done." He whispered, hardly able to believe it.

"What are you taking about Mr. Potter. You just had a nasty accident with a bludger hitting you in the head at your Quiddich practice." Madam Pomphry said.

Harry's head was swimming. If this man in front of him was impossibly here, then was there another? "Where's Dumbledore? I need to speak with him as soon as possible." Madam Pompfrey exchanged a worried look to Snape's confused one.

"One does not just pop in on the Minister of Magic, Mr. Potter." She said.

Harry was shocked to hear this. "Then who's the Headmaster?"

"Head mistress, Mr. Potter. Professor McGonagall is very busy, and doesn't have the time for an attention seeking student."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was all too strange he couldn't remember much of what happened to him recently. But one look at Snape told him that he'd rather be here right now, with Snape glaring at him than the alternative. Which had him dying in his arms.

"Forgive me Madam Pompfry and Professor Snape. I'm just confused."

"Professor?" Snape asked. As though he thought the term sounded ridiculous.

"…Aren't you?"

"Don't insult me boy. I wouldn't be caught dead being a teacher to a bunch of Neanderthal induced imbeciles. I'm just the residential potions supplier here to deliver Madam Pompfry's order."

Harry sat on the bed, holding his pounding head in his hands. "Then may I please have something for the pain?"

Without speaking, he saw an elegant hand hold a potion, uncapped, to him. He took it, and downed it without looking up.

"That was a stupid move, Potter. I could've been handing you a vial of poison."

"From the color and smell, I knew it was the Pain Reducer potion." He added softly, "Plus, I trust you."

Snape didn't seem to hear the last part. "Impressive, looks like that fool Slughorn is doing something right for a change if even the dense Harry Potter could learn something."

Harry's heart was breaking hearing those words.

"Mr. Potter. Are you alright. Do you need another potion?" The mediwitch asked.

Harry noticed that tears were falling down his face.

"I must've hurt the crybaby's feelings. With that, I shall take my leave." Severus turned and walked out of the infirmary, leaving a broken Harry behind.

"What in the world could be wrong with you?" Asked the witch as she was trying to diagnose what else was wrong with Harry.

"Everything and nothing. I'm… I'm just confused. Please. May I just rest here?"

"Of course… I'm worried about your head injury. I don't think you have a concussion, but I'd like to keep an eye on you tonight."

Harry felt exhausted. And he felt so alone. He couldn't think, and he couldn't breathe. "May I please have a dreamless potion?" He asked.

"… Why, yes. Of… of course." She went to fetch the potion.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"It's just that I've never seen you being so polite. You have a reputation of being quite arrogant."

Harry didn't know how to take this. He just downed the potion, and settled down. "Then I think we're both in for a few surprises."

He closed his eyes, and drifted off. Letting the potions work their magic, and carry him into oblivion.

"Why can't you concentrate Potter? Are you so weak that you can't even handle a simple mind blocking spell?"

"I'm not weak!"

"Then prove it!"

*FLASH*

"How dare you!"

"I'm sorry Professor! I didn't mean to look!"

"GET OUT!"

*FLASH*

"They have him. They have Padfoot. Ministry. Hurry!"

*FLASH*

"Avada Kedavra!"

"NOOOO! SIRIUS!"

Harry bolted awake, crying out. He took a moment, and just tried to focus on his breathing, but he was still shaking, and sweat poured down his face.

He got up and headed towards the bathroom. When he turned on the light, he was startled by his own reflection. He expected to look a little shaken, but his hair was longer than it's ever been, his features were muscular and healthy, yet still delicate. And he had an impressive 5 o'clock shadow. It was as though he was never starved in his life. But what shocked him most was his scar. Or the lack-there-of. He splashed some cold water onto his face and tried to wrack his brain as to what happened. The battle. The final battle. Why couldn't he remember? His mind went blank after Severus… no, he refused to think about that. The man was alive. He hated his guts, and it hurt. But he'll take a cynical Snape over a…

Harry went back into the infirmary and tried to go back to sleep.

Morning came, and Harry was still awake. He tried to think about as many memories as he could think of, but he was still drawing a blank as to how he went from the final battle to here. The world is different. That much is obvious. But it's more than that. He had a look at the daily prophet, and it was all mundane news. New Ministry regulations. An outbreak of Dragon Pox, and the latest Quiddich scores. Nothing about a war, Death Eaters, Voldemort, or himself. So… what changed? He had too many memories for them to be false, but he still couldn't think about his memories for right here and now.

Just then, the mediwitch came in, and stopped when she took one look at Harry. "Did you do something to your hair?"

"Yeah, I cut it down a bit, and shaved."

"I was under the impression you were growing it out for your Godfather."

Harry's heart leapt. "You mean… to honor him?"

"I suppose. Though that one's had his head in the clouds since he went here. I don't think his ego can get through the doors anymore."

Harry took from this that his Godfather was in fact alive and well. Harry felt relieved, but still confused. If everything has changed, does that mean that no one is dead? He should have been more surprised that Dumbledore was also alive, and not… Who were his friends? Who were his enemies? Too many questions. "Um… I wanted a change. I don't feel like the same person I was before yesterday."

"I believe it. How is your head feeling?"

"It's fine pain wise, but things are… fuzzy memory wise. I'm not sure about certain things. What if I can't do my work?" Come to think of it, what year was he in? If he was supposed to be there for his final year, he was in trouble. He hadn't learned anything while being on the run with Ron and Hermione.

"I don't think this will excuse you for getting out of classwork, Mr. Potter. If you're struggling, perhaps you should have one of the other students tutor you."

Harry knew who he wanted. But he was worried still. He hoped he could find his class schedule within all his belongings.