Chapter 153: Disagreement

Snape's demeanor had altered in a way that Sherlock found utterly perplexing. No longer the sullen, perpetually grim man who seemed eternally displeased with the world, he instead radiated an air of optimism that seemed frankly alien. Sherlock, accustomed to Snape's simmering ire, felt distinctly uneasy with this unfamiliar version of him.

"What's wrong with you, Snape?" he inquired, his brow creasing in suspicion.

"What's wrong?" Snape responded, much to Sherlock's astonishment, with a laugh. "Nothing is wrong!I've never felt happier in all my life! And it's all thanks to you, Forester! Really I can't thank you enough!"

Sherlock regarded him, utterly baffled. He was used to encountering Snape's disdainful sneers and his undisguised contempt, nothing of this placating thankfulness.

"What are you planning on doing, Snape? We should focus on how we can back to our time as quickly as possible, no?"

"Return? Why ever would I want that?" Snape said, meeting Sherlock's eyes with an unwavering gaze that sent chills down Sherlock's spine.

"Don't tell me you want to stay here indefinitely?" Sherlock questioned, enunciating each word with care. "Abandoning the timeline we belong to?"

A sigh of satisfaction tumbled from Snape's lips. "This reality is infinitely better than ours. She lives in this timeline. I may yet save her."

A grim understanding dawned upon Sherlock at those words. " 'She'? You're talking about Harry's mother?"

"Don't forget, we are situated in the year 1977, my friend, she is not Harry's mother" Snape said with eerie calmness. Sherlock understood then what the man's intentions were: to upend the history he had once known. He remembered Lupin mentioning how Snape had begrudged James Potter not just for his bullying, but because Lily Evans had chosen James over him. Now Snape intended to alter their destinies.

"Are you daring to court Lily Potter?!" Sherlock accused.

Snape lashed out with cold disregard, "Evans! She's not a mother, nor a Potter! Her name is Lily Evans!" (E/N.: yea because she's 17, creep)

"Enough, Snape! Have you gone mad? As a Hogwarts professor, surely you should know better than to meddle with time, tamper with established history!" Sherlock retorted sharply. "Our foremost aim should be to restore ourselves to our rightful timeline, not wooing another man's future wife!"

"She is not owed to anyone! She is not anyone's wife or mother yet and if she chooses she will never become a Potter!" Snape retorted vehemently. "What past? What timeline? Since I have been given the opportunity to return to this moment, it is surely the providence of fate! I will not be denied because you're scared, Forester. I am resolute that I will remold reality to my wishes. No one can stand in my way."

Sherlock stared at Snape as if he were a madman. "Do you not understand the consequences of meddling with time, Snape? The countless stories of time travelers would enlighten you on the dismal fate of those who dared to alter history. You should know better than anyone, Snape - meddling with the past is forbidden! All we can do is create a better future, not trapping ourselves in the past!"

Snape met his gaze with steely resolve. "It's easy for you to preach such things, Forester, your mother's been dead for years even in 1977. If you had the opportunity to save her you wouldn't speak like this."

Sherlock's faced darkened noticeably at the insensitivity of Snape's words. Regardless of his relationship with the previous owner's mother, Snape had overstepped a boundary. Anger flaring, Sherlock seized hold of Snape's collar.

"Listen up you god damned fool, we have to go back and do so without messing anything up! Had you arrived here alone, I could not have cared less how you would have chosen to act. But we are both here, trapped together in this time. If your obsessions over a woman mess up the timeline, I'm screwed!"

"Why did you drag me to this time then? Raise my hopes, only to deny me my pursuit?" Snape demanded, his voice simmering with resentment.

"Merlin's beard, you talk like I'm here on vacation! I did not mean to end up here! And I certainly did not mean to take you of all people with me! You do nothing but disdain and neglect your responsibilities, Snape! As a teacher, you allowed your personal vendetta against Lupin and Black to govern your actions. You withheld the Wolfsbane potion from Lupin, allowing him to transform in full view of his students. Not to mention you've been mistreating Harry ever since he stepped foot into Hogwarts simply for the fact that he dared be born as the son of James, as if he had any say in it! Such lack of integrity, such abnegation of your duty as a professor! You've thoroughly disappointed me, Snape."

"You think yourself so clever, don't you? What ever would the world do without our shining paragon of morality, Sherlock Forester?" Snape spat, his voice hoarse and heavy with resentment. "You know nothing! You haven't the faintest inkling as to what I've endured! Do not pity them for what I intend to do to them for they have brought this upon themselves. Now give me back my wand, I don't intend to waste any more of my time talking to a pretentious hypocrite like yourself."

In that moment, Sherlock's patience for Snape's foolishness finally snapped. His fist slammed into Snape's face, sending him sprawling on the ground. Sherlock pinned him down forcefully as blood flowed from Snape's nose. Snape struggled, his wiry strength no match for Sherlock, a man of youthful vigor and athletic build. "Do you believe you can brew a potion to escape regret, Snape?"

"This is my chance to do just that," Snape retorted defiantly from beneath him.

"You're only going to create more damage, Snape! The past is immutable. If your intention is to make amends, then instead of harboring such ill-advised regrets, you should better treat Lily's son when we return to our timeline. That is the only honorable course of action." Sherlock stated, gritting his teeth before landing another punch on Snape's already bloody face.

"You know nothing, nothing at all!" Snape spat out defiantly.

"Yes, Snape. Yes indeed!" Sherlock agreed, the words heavy with finality.

"I can't comprehend it! But I don't care to either, all I want is to return to my actual timeline!"

In no time, Professor Sherlock Forester had so thoroughly thrashed Snape that the latter was smeared with a mess of blood. As Snape curled up defensively, resigned to his fate, Sherlock ceased his torment. He expelled gasping breaths as he stepped away from Snape's prone form. His strength was rapidly depleting due to his relentless spell-casting during their time travel endeavor and the ensuing scuffle with Snape. Feeling profoundly fatigued, Sherlock slumped down beside the wounded Snape. Snape shielded his face with one hand, appearing as though he'd been pummeled to within an inch of his life, utterly motionless, and surreally silent. In this moment of solemn silence, their heavy breaths echoed each other.

"Infighting won't do either of us any good," Sherlock suggested, making an effort to regulate his labored breathing. Snape turned away, seemingly averse to hearing Sherlock's voice.

"I know that you harbor resentment," Sherlock noted genuinely, eyes focused on the wispy white clusters of clouds adorning the azure sky overhead. He continued, expressing empathy, "While I may not entirely grasp the roots of your pain, I can empathize with your motives. The desire to see Harry's mother again, for instance..."

In a morose tone that mirrored his vacant expression, Snape interrupted, "Her name is Lily Evans."

Acknowledging the correction, Sherlock conceded, "Alright, Lily Evans. Given your fervent longing to meet her, you should see her first. Once you have, we can deliberate on the subsequent course of action."

Snape mechanically wiped the grime of off his pallid face with his robe's sleeve. He then extended an arm towards Sherlock and coldly demanded, "Return my wand."

"Absolutely not," asserted Sherlock as he hoisted himself off the ground. "Not until we can agree on a course of action."

"So, how am I to meet Lily then?!" Snape demanded, also rising to his feet looking utterly disheveled. Except for his bitter expression, he bore no resemblance to the former Head of the Slytherin house. On hearing Sherlock's willingness to facilitate the meeting with Lily, Snape's disposition had notably mellowed. His hostility wasn't as volatile as previously. He seemed more inclined towards discussions, Sherlock observed. Sherlock also understood that this was an enforced compromise on Snape's end as he was without his wand. Had Sherlock not confiscated Snape's wand earlier, Snape would be at Lily's doorstep by now, he wouldn't even have to spared the time to talk with Sherlock.

"I do consent to your wishes of seeing her, but subsequent steps would follow my lead," Sherlock stated resolutely. "We should not allow our personal differences to obstruct our shared mission. Given the situation, we're connected by a shared bond, it's paramount to first identify what either of us brought along."

Heeding his own advice, Sherlock was the first to display his possessions. He reached into a magically expanded bag and emptied its contents before Snape. There were two hundred wands, a vial of Felix Felicis gifted to him by Professor Slughorn, fragments of the Philosopher's Stone obtained from Nicolas Flamel, numerous bottles of unique potions with varying effects, a bag stuffed with Galleons, and several magical tomes.

In silence Snape watched Sherlock reveal his possessions, then he too retrieved a bag obviously treated with a similar expansion charm. Unlike Sherlock, he didn't dump the bag's contents all at once. He carefully placed each object one by one before him. In no time, numerous potion vials made a vibrant pile in front of Snape. His face maintained its emotionless façade, though the bruises and swelling left by Sherlock's blows impeded his trademark stoic composure.

"Do you require an introduction for each one of them?" Snape nonchalantly gestured towards the colourful potions. Sherlock waved dismissively in response, "No need for elaborate introductions, just tell me if you have any Polyjuice Potion."

Snape gave him a sidelong glance and proceeded to extricate a potion stored in an unremarkable water jug from the pile. "Here. Add a strand of hair, and they're ready to use."

"Do you remember where you were on June 29th 1977?" Sherlock inquired. Snape narrowed his eyes, not in reminiscence but reluctant to reveal certain aspects of his life. "Spinner's End, a grimy corner in Cokeworth. I spent the entirety of my sixth year's summer here."

"Very well," Sherlock extended a hand towards Snape. "Let's move. Our first stop will be Cokeworth." Ignoring Sherlock's offer of peace, Snape rose with an icy stare.

"Scourgify." With an indifferent shrug, Sherlock pointed his wand towards Snape.

Instantly, Snape's soiled garb was transformed into a clean and fresh appearance. Because Sherlock had no memories during this time and further had never been to Spinner's End, they couldn't apparate there directly. Perhaps Snape could, but Sherlock certainly wouldn't risk entrusting him with a wand. Nonetheless, in the british wizarding world, besides Floo Powder, apparition, and Portkeys, there existed a fourth kind of transportation. Sherlock gestured with his wand akin to hailing a cab.

Soon, on the narrow trail next to the seemingly endless wheat fields the Knight Bus, painted a vivid purple, zoomed towards them, with no apparent intention of slowing down.