Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

Epilogue: The Less Things Change

- January 4, 1977 -

"You can't mean that, Sev!" Lily shouted. Severus was still confined to the hospital wing, and although he was looking far better than he had on Christmas, she had overheard Madam Pomfrey saying that not all of the damage could be fully healed. Just because it was a blood ritual meant for protection didn't mean it wasn't still dark magic, and damage caused by the dark arts never fully healed. Maybe he'll believe me now about messing with them. She rubbed the silver bracelet he had made for her absently. "How can you even say something like that?"

"It's not – Lily, I – you don't –" Severus spluttered, tripping over his tongue as he tried to explain.

"No," Lily said firmly. "It's just the same as ever. I don't know why I thought you'd changed. If you can say that the wrong one died. . . . I can't – I just can't deal with that sort of thing. Not again. Not anymore."

"You don't understand!" Severus protested, struggling to rise from where he lay. "I –"

Lily felt suddenly guilty. His mother was dead. It was only natural to resent the survivor, wasn't it? Before she could say anything, though, Madam Pomfrey bustled over and threw her out of the hospital wing for disturbing her patient. I'll apologize the next time I see him.

But when she next saw him, he was with Mulciber and Avery, who were laughing about a hex cast on Mary, causing feathers to sprout from her nose. Lily turned and stomped away in disgust.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. She never found the right time to apologize, and, as time passed, as Severus spent more and more time with people she was certain were junior Death Eaters, she convinced herself that she no longer wanted to.

But she continued to wear her bracelet.

- January 20, 1977 -

"They still there?" James asked.

"Yes, just around the corner and down the hall, same as before," Sirius said, checking the Map.

"Okay, time to break them out," James said. "Five hundredth time's the charm, right?"

Sirius snorted. "Sure."

"They've been in that room since we got back," James said, annoyed. "That's over two weeks. McGonagall says they've gone home, but they're clearly in some sort of trouble. Wormtail tried, but even he couldn't get in. So, yeah, time to try again. We're the Marauders. We don't just give up."

Sirius held up his hands in faux surrender. "Did you hear me arguing with you?" he asked.

James gave a sheepish, apologetic grin. "Sorry." He ran his fingers through his mess of black hair absently. "You know how I can get."

Sirius shrugged. "Whatever you say, Prongs." He frowned. "Wait, where'd they go?"

"What?"

"Their dots. They're gone." They were so focused on trying to find the twins' names again on the Map that they noticed Filch's approaching dot too late. "Mischief managed," Sirius said hurriedly, tapping his wand to clear it.

"What is that you have there?" Filch demanded.

- March 28, 1977 -

Wordlessly, Severus added his name to the list of students staying behind for the Easter holidays before angrily stalking off to the dormitory to be alone. A few short months ago, he had been eagerly awaiting the Easter holidays. Now, it no longer mattered. He had failed.

I was going to do so much. I just had to wait until I was of age, and then I could go back home and fix everything. Cure Tobias of his drinking, get him a job even if had to confund someone to hire him. Mum said he wasn't bad before the drink, back when he still worked at the mill, and she'd never leave him. And look what that got her. Killed, killed because she was too stupid and soft-hearted to get rid of him, even after he beat her.

Severus briefly considered going back, just to put up muggle-repelling charms on the house. Keep the bastard out. It's his fault, anyway. If he hadn't been passed out at the pub, she'd never have had to go bring him back home. And then they'd never have gotten hit by that car. But he could put up wards in the summer, and – if he was lucky – his father would have drunk himself to death by then anyway, and he would never have to see the miserable excuse for a human being ever again.

And if he dies on his own, then I won't have to kill him, Severus thought, looking down at his hands.

If I'd gone home for Christmas, even if I weren't of age yet, maybe I could have saved her.

- April 2, 1978 -

"Anything interesting in the Prophet?" Sirius asked at breakfast.

"Just the usual. Deaths, disappearances," Remus said absently, turning the page. "Oh!" he exclaimed.

"What?" James asked at once, looking anxious.

"Nothing bad," Remus reassured him. "Just a small announcement under births. Right there, near the bottom, under Aethelred Uckbert."

"That's a terrible name to get stuck with," Sirius said, "but so what?"

"No, it's the ones beneath," Peter said, pointing at the paper. Just below Aethelred were the names Frederick Weasley and George Weasley. He and the other Marauders exchanged glances. The twins weren't seers. They were from the future, somehow. Peter absently rubbed his left forearm.

- March 23, 1980 -

Curses flew across the battlefield. Lily unshrunk the blood replenishing potion and forced Auror Longbottom to swallow. She heard a shout from behind her. Turning, she saw James running towards her, You-Know-Who in pursuit. As if in slow motion, she saw You-Know-Who point his wand in their direction, whether to curse her or James or Longbottom, she couldn't tell. Grabbing James's wrist and Longbottom's shoulder, she activated the portkey on her bracelet, arriving safely in the lobby of Saint Mungo's before the green light hit.

It was the third time they defied him.

- August 8, 1980 -

"I shall consider it," the Dark Lord informed him. Severus bowed his head lower in gratitude, even as his heart sank. Consideration was not the same as a promise. Lily was in danger, and he had unwittingly put her there.

And so the next day he found himself kneeling on a wind-swept hill before Albus Dumbledore, who had obliviated him once before when he had tried to save Lily, who might do so again. Or perhaps he would do worse, now, as Severus was now an enemy and longer a student nominally under his protection. Therefore, when the fearsome headmaster asked for his price rather than simply removing his memories, Severus wondered where he had gone wrong before. Hoping not to repeat his mistake, he promised, "Anything."

He knew he had said the right words, for Albus Dumbledore left him with his life, his freedom, and his memories. And although the headmaster had refused him the Defense position only a few days before, now he offered Potions and Head of Slytherin.

- October 25, 1981 -

"I think Pete should be secret keeper," Sirius said suddenly.

"What?" James asked. "Why?"

"Everyone'll think it's me, right?" Sirius asked. And it won't be, not this time. I don't know what future they came from, but this one'll be better. "They won't ever guess Wormtail. Perfect decoy," he added. And this way I can't possibly betray you, Prongs.

"But, Padfoot, do you really think he's up for that? I'm not saying he's a coward," James added hastily, "but he's a bit, you know, nervous."

"He's a war hero," Sirius said stoutly.

James looked suddenly startled, as if he had forgotten. Lucky you, Sirius thought darkly. Wish I could. "And I'm the father of the Boy-Who-Lived," he said slowly. "Alright, if you're sure, and if Wormtail agrees. And Lily, of course. I need to talk to her about something anyway, now I think about it."

- October 26, 1981 -

James had argued against the ritual for months. Lily had no idea why he had finally changed his mind, and it worried her. But she was desperate. Dumbledore had said that his mysterious spy was convinced that You-Know-Who was after them in particular, after Harry, and that his spy was paranoid about something happening to them on Halloween. Lily would do anything to save her baby, even blood magic. Sev had been right after all. No sacrifice was too much, not if it meant that the right one lived.

- October 31, 1981 -

James did not reach for his wand. He knew that Voldemort would kill him, and he hoped that the time his death bought would be enough for Lily to escape with Harry. He had felt the anti-disapparation and anti-portkey spells, though, and he knew that his brave, beautiful, brilliant Lily could not use her bracelet to save her this time. I'm the father of the Boy-Who-Lived, James reminded himself. Harry will live. Lily's ritual will work.

And so when Voldemort raised his wand to cast the killing curse, James did not even try to dodge. I accept my death so that my son will live.

And when Lily, too, gave her life to save her son, the final step of the blood ritual activated. Life of the father, willingly given. Life of the mother, willingly given. Together, they would save their son.

- November 4, 1981 -

Peter knew where he had to go. Sirius had been arrested, but the situation was still too unstable. If they give him a trial, if they give him veritaserum, they will know. I'll be safe with the Weasleys. The twins said their brother had a pet rat. It's only for a little while, until I find something better, until I know I'll be safe.

- October 30, 1994 -

"Welcome back," Dumbledore said.

Fred blinked and looked around. He was in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was a few feet away, casting a diagnostic on George, whose hair and eyebrows were restored to their proper Weasley red.

"It's –" Fred began.

"October 30, 1994," Dumbledore finished. "A little past three in the afternoon."

"Oh," Fred said. He felt vaguely disappointed. He and George had only needed a few more days in the past, and then they would have been of age, old enough to enter the Tournament. He patted his robes, and then looked up, frantic.

"Not to worry, my boy," Dumbledore said. "Your letters and other souvenirs of your trip are right here." He handed them over. "Any may I say, I am impressed and humbled by seeing these. If these are what I believe them to be, they are worth more than any House points I can offer. Even so, please take one hundred points apiece for Gryffindor. Once Madam Pomfrey clears you to leave, I will let you deliver them. If I may, though, please accept these as well." He handed Fred a few sheets of parchment with the same brief note on each, attesting that Fred and George had indeed travelled through time, and that the letters were genuine.

"What's this?" Harry asked, looking up from the chess game that Ron was playing against Hermione.

"I know this'll be hard to believe –" Fred began.

"– but we swear it's real," George finished. He handed Harry a small package. Tentatively, not really trusting the twins, he opened it. Inside was a book, several photographs, and two letters. A short note from Dumbledore lay on top. Harry read it, frowning.

"This is real?" he asked. "Really real?"

The twins nodded, and Harry, swallowing heavily, stared at the photographs. There was his mum, sitting in Potions. There was his dad, scoring a goal against Hufflepuff. And there was – "Prongs," Harry whispered, astounded. The twins had somehow gotten him a picture of James Potter transforming into a stag, in the middle of what looked like an empty classroom. "How?" Harry whispered.

"It's a long story," Fred said.

"But you haven't even seen the best part," George added, pointing at the two unopened envelopes. With trembling fingers, Harry opened the first letter.

Dear Harry,

What is a bloke supposed to write in a letter like this? You haven't even been born yet. Merlin, but I haven't even gotten Evans to agree to out with me yet. Guess she does agree at some point, though, which is good to hear.

Where to start? Well, let's start with me meeting your mum. I met her on the Hogwarts Express, and knew immediately that she was something special . . . .

Dear Harry,

I hope you never get this letter, because that means the twins lied. If they were telling me the truth, though, then I want you to know two things.

First, I obviously loved you more than anything in the world. Always remember that. You were loved. You are loved. Forever and always.

Second, I died so that you could live. That means that every time you risk your life, you are saying that I died for nothing. As glad I am that you saved Ginny Weasley from a basilisk (and, really, a basilisk in a school?), you should not have gone there. It is not your job to save anyone else. It is your job to live. If you do nothing else for me, do that.

The twins tell me that you're best friends with their brother, and that Petunia is horrid to you. I hope they're wrong about that, too (my sister, I mean, not their brother). But just in case, let this be accepted as my last will and testament, overriding any others that I write later in life in respect to your guardianship and only that (not whatever money I have or anything else). You can choose from among any of the following legal guardians: my sister Petunia, my parents (if they're still alive), or Molly and Arthur Weasley. I've written a letter to the two of them, thanking them for looking after you, and . . . .

Dear Neville,

Apparently, I'm your mother. I know, I doubt it, too. I'm also supposedly dead. Feodor and Gustav – sorry, "Fred and George" – aren't sure what happens to me. Maybe I died when you're a baby, maybe I caught dragon pox a week before you went off to school. I hope I'm actually off on some dangerous secret mission to an exotic country or – better yet (and far more likely, knowing the twins) – this is a prank and I'm perfectly healthy and happy and alive, and I'm well on my way to becoming Head Auror.

I have no idea what a person is supposed to write to their son who won't even be born for several years, so I'll go with the basics. My name is Alice Talbott, and my favorite subjects are Defense and Charms. I hate Transfiguration, but need to take it to become an auror. My favorite flowers are tulips, and . . . .

"What – what was she like?" Neville asked, tears streaming unheeded down his cheeks.

"She was brilliant," George said.

The twins had one last letter to deliver in person. They considered sending it by owl, like they had for the ones to their mum and the others to those outside Hogwarts. But, in the end, they made their way down to the Slytherin dungeons and knocked on the door to Snape's office.

"Enter," called Snape's voice from inside. George pushed open the door, and the twins entered. Snape looked up from a stack of papers he was grading. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"We have a letter for you," George said, wondering how the professor would react. He tentatively reached out to hand it to Snape, whose sallow skin suddenly paled as he stared at George's hand. George glanced down, and realized that the professor was looking at the small silver ring on his little finger.

"Vassilyev," Snape hissed.

"Professor," George said. Cheekily, he added, "You still owe Fred a month of Potions homework."

"Detention, Weasley," Snape snapped. He snatched the letter, but then froze upon seeing the handwriting on the envelope. Slowly, reverently, he opened it. He stared at it for a long, long time. George hesitated before turning to join Fred outside. Just before they left, he could just barely hear Snape murmur, voice soft yet full of wonder, "She forgave me . . . ."

Later that day, a Hogwarts owl delivered two letters to the Burrow. Molly Weasley broke down in tears at seeing the first. Even after all these years, there was no mistaking the handwriting of her dead brothers.

That night, three former Death Eaters paid visits to the Goblet of Fire. One came with all his students as, one by one, they submitted their names to the Goblet. One came alone in the dead of night, thinking of debts owed and repaid, and tossed in two scraps of parchment. And one waited, invisible, until all the rest were gone, to confund the ancient artifact and add a name under a fourth school.

- October 31, 1994 -

Fred and George plopped themselves next to Angelina at the Gryffindor table. "Good luck!" Fred told her.

"Yeah, if it can't be us, hope it's you!" George added.

"Thanks!" she said, smiling. "You two looked good with those beards. Very distinguished."

"We'll consider it –" George said.

"– in a few decades or so," Fred finished, still disappointed that the aging potion they brewed that morning had failed to trick Dumbledore's age line. He caught sight of Harry and Neville, who were sitting quietly next to each other at the far end of the table. "Think they're okay?" he asked George, jerking his head in their direction.

George stood up to get a better look. "Seems like. They're smiling at that photo of their mums in Potions."

Dumbledore stood up. "And now, I believe the Goblet of Fire is about to make its decision."

The Great Hall fell silent. Cheers rang out as Dumbledore called first the Durmstrang and then the Beaubatons champion. Beside them, Angelina was shaking slightly with excitement. "And the champion from Hogwarts is . . . ." There was a long pause as Dumbledore's face flickered with shock for an instant before once again growing calm. "George Weasley!"

The less things change, the less they stay the same.

A/N:

The is the end of Crossing Lines. I leave the rest to your imagination. Will Lily's letter be enough to let Harry leave the Dursleys? Will it affect his "saving people thing"? Will he and Neville grow closer? Will Snape's self-loathing be affected by Lily's forgiveness? Will George die in Cedric's place, or will the ring Snape made save him?

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