Chapter 172: The Prince

"Wear your hat properly, we've got a scorcher today, and you don't want to end up suntanned," Sherlock advised as he adjusted Amy's sun hat. "Are you sure about bringing the windmill along? We could leave it here; there'll be plenty of fun things at the amusement park."

Amy, however, remained determined to bring her windmill. Snape, impatiently waiting at the door, coldly uttered, "How much longer are you two planning on dawdling? Get on with it, I plan to return as early as possible. I've potions to brew today."

Sherlock cast a glance over Snape, dressed as always in a black robe, unchanged day after day. He resembled a large bat with his pale, sullen face, and anyone at the amusement park who wasn't in the know would assume he'd stepped out of a haunted house!

"Planning on becoming the main attraction?" Sherlock jibed. "You'll hardly blend into a 

Muggle amusement park dressed like that. Two steps in, and someone will mistake you for a performer, crowd you, wanting a photo. Soon after the staff will probably run you off."

Snape was momentarily silenced by Sherlock's comment but had no alternative attire. His wardrobe had only ever maintained this one outfit. Discerning Snape's predicament, Sherlock held himself next to him, measuring their comparative heights. Snape was about 7 centimeters shorter, presumably standing around 179 centimeters. (E/N.: author is going off book height, not movie height)

Pointing to his clothes, Sherlock suggested, "I don't think mine would fit you, we should buy you something."

"You're suggesting I wear Muggle clothes?" Snape's voice heightened.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "What's the problem with that? Do you disdain Muggles?"

Snape certainly wouldn't admit to Muggle contempt, albeit his younger self's attest celebrating pureblood supremacy. But him, now in his thirties, having weathered countless personal trials, had long dismissed these supremacist claims. There was no lineage or capability hierarchy between Muggles and wizards. In some respects, Muggle-born wizards even had advantages. The reluctance was more psychological than anything else.

Ignoring Snape's resistance, Sherlock tended to Amy and prepared to head out. "Let's go, Uncle Tobias, we'll pick out something nice for you. Unless you'd prefer attracting attention like a zoo animal?"

Snape pursed his lips, gave up arguing, and followed them out of the Leaky Cauldron. Sherlock and Amy donned ordinary attire, while Snape stuck out, swathed in a billowing black cloak in mid-summer, attracting looks from passersby. The unfamiliar attention felt foreign. Sherlock reassured him. "Don't hide in your room; try getting out more, take a breath of fresh air. Imagine, even if Lily forgave you, would she find your brooding, moldy bat-like demeanor appealing?"

Snape knocked Sherlock's hand off his shoulder with a slapping sound and huffed.

"If Lily hadn't made that choice, do you think I would've turned out this way?" Snape asked.

"Who are you blaming? It was your mistake, not anyone else's," Sherlock advised. "You chose to fraternize with those who deride Muggles, despite knowing Lily's contempt for Dark Magic. You brought this on yourself."

Sherlock counseled him on. "You need to cheer up and stop acting like the everyone owes you money or something. You distanced yourself from Harry, but you also distanced yourself from the rest of the world. Life goes on, doesn't it? Just cheer up a little, life is so much more enjoyable if you smile more."

Snape turned a cold shoulder to Sherlock's words, prompting Sherlock to sigh in despair and cease his speaking. After all, if a few wise words from him could change Snape, it'd be nothing short of a miracle. Unaware of the conversation happening behind her, Amy was happily dashing around with her pinwheel toy.

"I've managed to infiltrate the Ministry through some newfound connections. Still not sure which department I'll end up in yet, but regardless - no more hiding at the pub for me." Sherlock informed Snape.

"As for our return, there aren't any leads just yet. But I did find out how Lily protected Harry from You-Know-Who."

Hearing Lily's name, Snape held his breath. "Can you replicate this magic? Cast it on her?"

"Even if I could, I don't see how it could save her. She is dead and buried, and her absence from Harry's life for all these years means we can't change the past."

His words left Snape irritated. "Why can't it be reversed? What if she faked her death?"

"Do you believe she would do that?" Sherlock asked. "She loved Harry and James. If she could escape her own death, she wouldn't hide it from James or Harry. If James knew of the plan, would he accept it?"

Snape fell silent. Sherlock was right. To fake Lily's death would mean she'd have to be complicit in it. Once she'd know all, she'd try to save James. It was not deception, but an outright challenge to fate.

"We're here by accident. Our job is to fix that accident and go back the way we came. But we came here together, and I need to think about your wishes too. So I'll do everything I can without altering significant historical events."

"I want you to consider a more objective point of view on this."

"Following the normal course of history, Voldemort, even if not dead, has lost all his powers, giving the Wizarding World a few years of peace before his final defeat."

"We can finesse a few details to help us in the future, but we can't change the fact that when You-Know-Who tried to kill Harry, his curse rebounded and left him powerless." 

He stared at Snape.

"I've seen what the Death Eaters have done over the past few days, witnessed the lives they've taken. You were one of them. You understand better than anyone else what the future holds if You-Know-Who regains his power."

Snape said nothing, his lips pressed tightly together, lost in deep thought. Sherlock feared that, if he found a way back, Snape might resort to drastic measures to change the course of history.

After leaving the Leaky Cauldron, they could see a shopping street along the road, where men's clothing stores were located. Amy, apparently exhausted, with light sweat on her forehead, clutched onto Sherlock's arm and relied on him to drag her forwards. While shopping for a new outfit Snape was as cold as a puppet, letting the store assistant dress him in a common summer outfit. Sherlock paid, as Snape had no muggle money. Snape was indeed handsome, with an icy charm and a melancholic face, which some might find alluring. His greasy hair, though, lent him an unkempt appearance.

"Why doesn't Tobias like to wash his hair?" Amy asked, head tilted at Snape.

He gruffed, "Only shallow people waste their time on making themselves `pretty`."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and patted Amy's head. "Don't listen to his nonsense. Keeping yourself presentable is not just important for making a good impression but also a responsibility for oneself. Unwashed hair can breed lice."

Amy sniffed her blonde hair, "Daddy said I can't wash my hair on my own, but it's still clean."

Sherlock didn't question why Eddie prohibited Amy from washing her hair but hailed a taxi instead. It wasn't a holiday or weekend, so the amusement park wasn't crowded. For all her maturity, Amy was still a child at heart. The sight of a giant Ferris wheel brought out a gasp of wonder from her.

"Look! A huge iron windmill!"

"Want to try this one first?" Sherlock asked, leading Amy to the ticket booth with Snape reluctantly following—and watching—as Sherlock purchased three tickets. Once inside the cabin, Amy pressed her hands against the glass, captivated by the view. You'd think a wizard's child like her, who had toy broomsticks to around on at a young age, wouldn't be so easily amazed by muggle inventions. However, Amy didn't seem to have much exposure to such things in her daily life. She lacked her mother's company, and her time with her father was limited, so she likely hadn't had any toys or experiences like that. Sherlock was also excited, but seeing Snape sitting opposite him made everything feel strangely surreal.

"Tsk, tsk," he said, sipping his water with a hint of humor. "You know, Ferris wheels hold a special symbolism in Muggle society. I didn't expect my first ride would be with you."

Snape didn't look at Sherlock; he was peering through the glass down at the city shrinking below. "I seem to recall that you had a romantic stint back in school."

"Pfft!" Sherlock choked on his water, narrowly avoiding a spit-take. Luckily, Snape was sitting across from Amy or he would have been drenched.

"How do you know I had a girlfriend during school?" he asked with bewilderment. Snape turned his head, a wisp of a cold laugh on his face.

"You thought that no one was paying attention when you were at Hogwarts? The day you made it official with that girl Mary, Flitwick couldn't contain his excitement and announced it to everyone in the staff lounge. McGonagall nearly shed a tear; they were always very invested in your affairs."

Sherlock's face was a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. He had always thought that his diary entries during those times were confidential, he wasn't aware of his early romantic exploits becoming public news. Snape savored the moment, seeing Sherlock's discomfort, he carried on at his own leisurely pace.

"Soon after, you two broke up. Flitwick and McGonagall spent a long time discussing it. They felt that while a failed romance is sad, it's also the best catalyst for personal growth."

"But I didn't notice any mourner's veil on you during those days. You never really had any feelings for Mary, did you?"

Sherlock scrunched his face, irritated. "Gossip any more and you'll turn into a nagging old woman!"

As this conversation unfolded, Amy turned her head, puzzled. "John had a girlfriend named Mary?"

"Mary was his girlfriend back in his student days, he hasn't had another since then," Snape corrected with a gleeful tone.

Sherlock gently flicked Amy's glossy forehead. "Children shouldn't pry into grown-ups' affairs."

Amy pouted, furrowed her lovely brows and, in seeming dissatisfaction at Sherlock's words, she shook her head and continued to enjoy the scenery. After disembarking the ferris wheel, Sherlock bought Amy a lollipop. It didn't taste like anything special, but its vibrant colors looked appealing. Amy held it up to the sky, hoping that like a windmill, it could spin around. As a futile means of avenging himself on Snape and satisfying his quirky sense of humor, Sherlock also bought a crown for him.

"Ah, Your Highness, look at this thing. It suits your status so well,"  Sherlock mocked Snape's chosen alias.

To Sherlock's surprise, Snape didn't throw the crown away in disdain, instead, he accepted it emotionlessly. As he held the crown, his eyes showed a hint of nostalgia, along with painful memories he was unwilling to recall yet unable to forget.