Well, here I am, not writing new chapters for my existing chapter stories. No, I am in fact starting a new chapter story. Because I'm a glutton for punishment, apparently. Anyway, I have nothing else to say here, except that crazy Snape is a lot of fun to write. Also that unlike On The Danger Of Stepping Outside Your Office Door, I actually have some idea of where I'm going with this fic. (Wow, long AN. Sorry. Here's some actual story for you to read.)

Disclaimer: I own a copy of all the books, but not the copyright and/or franchise.

Severus Snape watched the entrance to his home lab warily. The war had escalated to a previously unimagined scale of violence, and it was rapidly becoming clear that Voldemort was going to win. Potter and his little posse had disappeared into the wilderness. Snape knew that they were trying to cut off Voldemort's source of immortality, but it was unlikely to work. One mistake Snape was willing to admit to at this point in his life was that he had screwed up with Potter.

The boy had had potential, and he had antagonized him from the start instead of giving it a chance to blossom.

Of course, it was only a point of reflection now. Snape had taken one too many blows in the head in battle to obsess over little things anymore. If he hadn't been insane before, he certainly was now.

And it was not just because he had gotten into the habit of talking to himself out loud. Really.

"Hmmm." he said to himself while glancing around his fully stocked lab with a critical eye. "I have a lot of volatile potions ingredients here." A banging sound made itself heard from the front of the house. "And it would appear that either the vengeful remnant of the Order or some equally vengeful Death Eaters have come for tea. No," he corrected himself absently as the banging grew in intensity, "actually, I doubt they have come for tea."

Shortly after killing Dumbledore, Snape had abandoned the Death Eaters in an equally spectacular manner, leaving him with no friends and many head injuries.

Snape solemnly filled his best cauldron with water and put it over a recently born flame. He then began throwing everything within reach into it.

"Well," he told himself cheerfully, "one of two things is about to happen, because there are only two things that could logically happen if I throw lots of volatile potions ingredients into a pot of heated water. I will die a quick and fiery death, or something extremely fortuitous will happen, like me getting thrown back into my younger body to change the future for the better."

An extremely bright explosion took the door the Death Eaters had been trying to force open and threw it at their faces with considerable force. If the circumstances had been slightly different, the Death Eaters might have had time to wonder what they had done to make the explosion so angry with them, but since they all died pretty quickly it is a moot point.

Meanwhile, or rather at some point in the past, Snape opened his eyes and realized that something extremely fortuitous had happened.


He was, in fact, still in his house. He was even still in his potions lab.

He looked down at his hands. "Wiggle, wiggle." he narrated as he wiggled his fingers.

They looked thirteen years younger.

No, really. Snape had always determined his age by the wiggle factor of his fingers. It was a Snape family secret, as a matter of fact.

"Hum." he said to himself placidly. "What was I doing thirteen years ago, which is actually right now?" He thought on this for a moment.

"Ah, doesn't matter. What's the last important thing I was thinking about?" He thought on that for a moment, too.

"Oh, right. Potter. Yes, well, I should take care of that, shouldn't I?"

And with that, he turned on his heel and apparated to Privet Drive.

At that moment Albus Dumbledore felt a disturbance in the proverbial force that left him cowering behind his desk for a few moments. He would blow it off as nothing at the time, but years later he would regret not investigating. Oh, would he regret.

Meanwhile, at Privet Drive, Snape stood just outside the wards of Number Four and prepared to enter the yard.

The funny thing about the wards that protected Number Four Privet Drive is that they had been designed to feed off of the love and affection Petunia Dursley felt towards Harry Potter. Since that love was virtually nonexistent—and in fact, the only reason the wards still stood at all was because somewhere deep inside she cared whether little Harry lived or died—the wards were a little starved for affection. Because of this, the wards had attached themselves to Harry himself, and fed off of the love the little guy felt for things like butterflies and rocks that looked like faces.

It was for this reason that when Snape lifted his arms in a hugging position and declared "Oh, I love Harry Potter! I would love to hug him and squeeze him and possibly give him the slightly illogical nickname of George!" the wards collapsed weeping with joy and let him onto the property.

Snape quite happily let himself into the house with some sort of blasting charm that left the front door feeling disgruntled and the wards, which had now partially attached themselves to Snape in a show of affection, feeling a bit of righteous satisfaction.

As it happened, little five-year-old Harry Potter was serving tea to his relatives in the living room. Three quick stupefys from Snape put an end to that, and the forty-ish(on the inside) year old crazy man and five-year-old boy found themselves staring at each other across a room cluttered with wood debris and unconscious bodies.

Little Harry looked at his dead-weight relatives, then at Snape.

"Hullo," the little guy said after a moment's deliberation, "would you like some tea?"