A sigh swept through the crag

And the echo continued to resound

Explosively, unyieldingly, as if

It was loud enough for worlds to hear

And it reached me as I lay unmoving,

As I resigned myself to another eternity

And it gave me enough to hope for:

That somehow, if I reached out,

Maybe if you took my hand,

Heaven may not be so far away.

|The Gryffindor Common Room|

There had been a time before that harry wouldn't have cared if Colin Creevey suddenly got his head stuck inside an enchanted toilet. Really, he didn't need any more of the attention he was getting from his unwelcome celebrity status. But of course, Creevey was one of his own. he was one of the cubs the Gryffindor lion has taken under his paws. And when a cub gets bruised, everyone else gets the feeling of wanting to hurt the perpetrator of said action.

And that was what the new kid just did.

It was a small offense really. Creevey was really annoying at times but something about the new Gryffindor just rubbed him wrong.

"Who was that guy?" harry nudged Ron's side and Ron sputtered in reply. He was stuffing his face with some of Bertie's very unique beans.

"I don't know Harry, I've never seen him since Hermione dragged him in," he finished after swallowing a significant bit of what he was chewing.

"hm…I see. I think I've seen him somewhere, hang on," and he trudged up to his dormitory, purposively up to some mischief.

|The North Wing|

He brushed off most of the attempts of people around him to socialize. He hasn't really put that side of himself away. When he was really 17, he never got to socialize. Not unless it was in a Death Eater circle; not unless it was with the godforsaken Slytherins; not unless it was to dance with Potter and his clique. So yes, he didn't quite develop the skills he needed to make friends with anyone. It was only Lily that he was really friends with. Not that it mattered right now.

He sighed and run a hand through his hair. It was his habit when he was thinking.

There was an improvement to him somehow. He didn't look as dashing now as he did back then. But he put some glamour on. That must have done the trick.

Looking up, he noticed that the moon was full. From the back of his mind, he recalled the ingredients that were best harvested under this kind of environment. Nettle, poppy, Areca Catechu, indrakes…he could enumerate them all really. But right now, he had to put up a front. He had to put up with being Lestat Sinclair.

He shuddered at the name.

He didn't really like the name. It's just that it was the first name that popped into his mind when he had brushed up with Dumbledore that morning.

He sighed, defeated and head throbbing. The day had been fun but how long could he put up with being so jovial? He couldn't really. Today had been different though. Without the constraints of being a man hounded by a miserable past, he could play every role he could. And yes, he did enjoy being out of his almost-normal self but tomorrow, tomorrow he would be back to the way he should be…only now, he had to live through being young again.

|The Head Girl's Quarters|

Mister Sinclair blared through her eyelids. It was just a little into the first term of her 7th year. And it was already running a little too late for everyone Voldemort had been killing.

She gritted her teeth and sat up. She couldn't sleep now.

Going back to the thought of Lestat Sinclair, she wondered about him. He felt familiar. All too familiar. But she couldn't put a finger on it.

Thinking back to how the day had unfolded, she remembered her Potions class. She didn't attend the lecture and the laboratory part would be tedious without the lecture. But she knew the Potions book by heart now. Well, maybe only the first parts since she was busy researching on ways to defeat the Dark Lord. And she had found one.

It was potion, brewed by life and empowered, mostly, by a cause. Negalus Esencia, it had been called.

But it was a potion of legend. No one can brew it and live to the day it'll be used. The design in itself was too intricate and the administration had to be precise. Knowing all that, one would've just given up but the present was not a time to dawdle and be defeated by mere difficulties. The present was a time to tackle impossibilities. So when she got at least a partial list of how the potion was prepared, she reported it immediately to Dumbledore.

As far as she knew, Snape was broadening the research. As far as she knew, the potion was already made.

This frustrated and relieved her. She was frustrated that it didn't occur to her that Snape could brew the potion. Of course he could. She never doubted his skill but why hadn't she thought of reporting it to him instead of Dumbledore?

She didn't quite find Dumbledore all too amusing these days. He had his reasons for sure but his reasons had been, as of late, becoming gradually selfish. His decisions consume people around him and mostly, they are the people he had been trying to protect.

Tomorrow, she had to write an excuse letter as to why she didn't attend the Potions lecture. Tomorrow, she had to face the headmaster but that was the least of her troubles.

Tomorrow, she had to face an expectedly unhappy Potions Master.

| Snape's Quarters|

He escaped the tower and slipped to his dungeons before the sun rose outside the castle. He had to.

When he got into his own quarters, he transfigured all his clothes into a smaller size. Well, not that small because he already had his adult size by now. He only had to make them a few inches thinner.

A sullen thought passed through his mind. He'd gone lax after his years as a Death Eater.

He let out a shaky breath and continued what he was doing. Every cloak, shirt and piece of unmentionable clothing had to be shrunk a bit. Everything he owned needed to be sorted and packed for the North Tower.

|The Dungeons|

Draco Malfoy didn't enjoy his times with the Gryffindors during double Potions. But that didn't bother too much anymore. He had better and more meaningful things to attend to.

Such as being a neophyte in the Death Eater circle under the tutelage of his own father.

He was silently glaring at every Gryffindor that passed him. Not that there were many of them. 7th year advance Potions wasn't really taken by everyone in his batch. For lack of better reason, it had been Snape they didn't want. But yesterday was a bit odd. Snape hadn't been in the dungeons. He didn't hold classes the whole day. Everyone had a three free hours since the brewing part usually took two hours more than the lecture did.

When Granger entered the room followed by a new figure, his mental debate over his problematic status was put to a halt.

He had been staring into the eyes of a younger Severus Snape.

.

.

.

.

.

Author's Notes:

I'm overhauling this story from here. I'll be updating again soon.