Summary - A challenge has been set. The most remarkable of all. Make Severus Snape laugh.
Disclaimer - All characters belong to the talented J.K.Rowling and the nice people at Warner. The plot is inspired by her work except the parts that are not so good. But if she who owns HP likes this, she can keep it.
AN - You might want to read Loki's Secret and Loki's Awakening before this one. It might help you understand a bit better.
xxxx
Chapter 1 - Setup
Severus Octavian Snape was having a bad day. When he had a bad day he made sure that everyone in the vicinity also had a bad day too. Most Hogwarts students would be of the opinion that the Potions Master had been having a continuous bad day for over fifteen years, but they are probably prejudiced. Six at most. Ever since Harry Potter had come to Hogwarts.
All had started with rising late due to a malfunctioning alarm clock. He was a creature of habit and he did not appreciate having to rush his morning routines because of lateness.
Then, during his morning shower. His shampoo smelled differently. As a highly proficient potions handler, his sense of smell was a useful diagnostic tool when evaluating or correcting a student's work. He was sure the formula was different. It was not an unpleasant smell, but still different.
Severus hated change.
He's come to the conclusion that since it had been a new bottle he'd just started, the manufacturers had revised the formulation without letting their customers know. Highly unprofessional of them. He made a mental note to send them an owl. A lot of manufacturers in the wizarding world (and a few in the muggle one) had come to cringe when receiving letters from their customers, once he had sent them one (or more).
Next, it was the fluffy pink towels in the bath. Fluffy pink I ask you. Instead of the normal everyday white ones that he was used to, the castle house-elves had replaced them with this unbelievably soft and comforting pink towels. They were useful and did the job, but they were also very undignified. What if anyone saw him using them? No matter that nobody but him had ever come inside his personal quarters in his years at Hogwarts. It was a matter of principle. He strongly suspected that they were remnants of that poor excuse of a professor Lockhart's possessions that could still be found in the castle even to this day.
To add insult to injury, all of his clothes were missing. All of them. That was not to say that his closet and wardrobe were empty. They were full of the correct quantity of shirts, robes and assorted things. However, they were not his own. Somebody had replaced his clothes with these. Still the somber black he was known for with the odd white shirt, yet even he could tell that the quality was superior and the cut of them, fashionable.
Years of being a potion maker and a teacher to boot had taught him to go with somber colors as they tended to hide any cauldron mistakes. These new clothes fit his usual style of work robes. Yet... yet discrete silver filigree embroidering could be seen on the robes. Very subtle and dignified. A more formal set of robes also sported the same sort of workmanship. His Slytherin sensibilities could not help but approve of robes like this. Even if he had never bothered to get some for himself, preferring to invest in books instead of clothes.
Someone had dared to replace his clothes with these... these high quality fine clothes that he resented to the last thread even if they fit him better than any of his had ever had. He strongly suspected someone on the faculty had a hand in this, as several of them had on occasion told him that he needed a new look.
Not having time to question the house elves or to keep searching for his own clothes, he finished dressing and without bothering check his appearance, he rushed over to his first class. Once on the corridor he passed a group of seventh year Ravenclaw girls who seemed to lose their ability to speak when they saw him. Not really surprising. What was surprising where the blushes as he walked by and suppressed gasps that he could hear afterwards.
He shrugged this away without a second thought until he met another young girl (six-year Hufflepuff) who actually stopped in her tracks and let he mouth drop open as she stared at him. Was the girl simple all of a sudden? He quickly deducted five points from Ms. Abbot for dawdling on the corridor, which she accepted with demurely downcast eyes.
His Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff third year class was waiting for him as he approached. He noticed the mixture of puzzled glances and surprise plainly showing on his students faces.
Fine. Maybe he looked different, but let it not be said that clothes make the man. He stared his usual diatribe against poor potion making as the class worked through a Shrinking potion. He did notice that they seemed to pay a bit more attention than he was accustomed to. His tongue reprimanded as sharp as ever, but this time respect showed in the students eyes more often than not.
This proceeded to hold true during the day. Even as his kept his usual cold manner, he noticed that his students accepted this more easily than they ever had. A second year Gryffindor even smiled at him.
The end of the world was coming for sure. A Gryffindor found him agreeable. He was losing his touch.
In a foul mood, he headed to the faculty table for the midday meal. More often than not, he preferred to have his meals in his office, but long experience as the head of Slytherin house made him visit the Great Hall more often than he would have wished too. No telling what his students might be up to if they assumed their Head of House was away.
It did not help that a ripple of whispers seemed to start up as he took his place at the table. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students threw surreptitious looks in his direction. Slytherins looked proud and almost pleasant. He narrowed his eyes. Maybe one of his charges was behind this? No doubt that several of the families represented there would be able to afford something like this without any trouble. However, no Slytherin would do something without expecting to gain something. Anonymous actions seldom paid off to the Slytherin psyche.
No, he would not discount anyone just yet. Plenty of rich students to choose from in the other houses as well, not to mention his suspicions regarding his colleagues. He did not fail to notice Minerva's approving glance in his direction. Like most Hogwart's alumni, he was not immune from the stern teacher's approval, even after twenty years since his last class with her.
Slightly mollified, he proceeded to make mental preparations for his most hated class. The thorn on his side. Sixth-year Gryffindor-Slytherin NEWT level class. With Potter, Granger and Weasley in it. He noticed that Potter had his usual gaggle of admirers surrounding him. How that attention-grabbing-dilettante had managed an O in his OWL score was still a mystery to him. One that he was determined to disprove.
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It was a very busy and unsettling week for the Potions Master. The house elves insisted the clothes in his closet and drawers were his clothes and pretended (or not, he could not be sure) not to understand what he meant by his other clothes. The pink towels refused to leave his chambers no matter how many banishment charms he tried, they always turned up when he needed one.
The most discordant note, was the significant change in his appearance. He had long given up on even having mirrors in his chambers which is why he had not noticed right away. His skin looked slightly less swallow than usual and his hair... his hair looked like normal hair. Hanging in a sleek curtain instead of it's usual oily state. The price when one spent so many hours hunched over smoking cauldrons.
Someone even had had the nerve of casting a braiding charm on it on several occasions and he had not caught who it was or even noticed until Professor Vector complimented him on it. She thought it suited him. Merlin! What was a sensible wizard to do in the face of such drivel?
The real problem was he could not really complain about what was happening. Who would understand that the fact that someone had replaced his unfashionable clothes for better ones and his appearance to a healthy one irked him immensely? His pride wouldn't let him admit to anyone he was the victim of a complicated prank. Someone was getting into his personal space and meddling in things they had no business being in. Someone was managing to get into the wards of his office and quarters and kept changing things for him. Adding new robes, new shoes and boots, a more refined scarf in Slytherin colors. It was unbearable.
It was like having an invisible mother primping him up for school or guests.
He had stopped caring about what he looked like so long ago that he had not really noticed people's manners around him because of it. He cynically observed how more attentive the students were around him (especially the female ones, although not limited to them). Filius had started to call him old chap and Hagrid had asked for his brand of shampoo and braiding charm. His Slytherin nature made him realize that people were really as superficial as to treat him differently because of how he looked. His manner had not changed in the least (in fact because of his foul humor, it was probably worse), but how people reacted to it.
He was determined to find out who it was. He strongly suspected that the mystery trickster that had been at work for several months was behind it, but he could not understand how a student could break his wards without triggering the alarms he placed each morning.
The straw the broke the camel's back was the love notes he stared receiving from some of the older female students (at least he hoped they were female, most were anonymous).
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At last, Friday night came and he could concentrate on reinforcing the wards to his room, added some additional ones to the bathroom and wardrobe. Banished the pink towels for the umpteenth time in the week and settled down for sleep.
Morning came to quickly for his taste. To his surprise, he found that new slippers (dark green leather) and a dressing gown (matching the slippers) had been laid out for him. Striding across the room in anger, he tested the wards to find out they were intact. Howling in frustration and swearing revenge when he saw a fresh set of pink towels waiting for him, he threw himself into his favorite chair alongside his beloved books. The mystery someone had been inside his rooms while he slept. The sheer nerve of it rankled.
It was then that he noticed a bottle and a letter waiting for him on the table where he usually had his morning tea. It was already laid out in elegant silver service set decorated with snakes. It did not belong to him.
Grabbing the bottle, he quelled his initial desire to throw it so it would smash, he forced himself to read the label.
The Cauldron Droppings Banisher
Especially formulated for the busy Potions Master.
Impervious or neutral to most if not all basic potions and a few more exotic ones.
Will protect hair in it's clean natural state all day without buildup from fumes, heat or oil.
Has been tested on pureblood Slytherins for it's efficacy.
No innocent Slytherins have been harmed in testing conditions.
However, the creators fully take credit for improving the appearance of some not-so-innocent ones.
He opened the bottle and he could smell that it was in fact the same one he'd been using for almost a week.
His mouth twitched in an unfamiliar smile. He re-read the final note on the bottle and remembered that some of his charges had in fact been looking much more groomed than usual as of late. Draco Malfoy had stopped using that nasty hair gel and his hair was no longer slicked back, but fell perfectly groomed around his face. Crabbe's hygiene problem seemed to have disappeared and Nott's swallow looks had also improved.
All in all, if he thought about it, most of his house did look a bit less nasty looking than usual. And most of the school had reacted well to it.
He sat down again and opened the letter that had laid beside it.
The our most respected Professor Severus Snape,
Please accept these gifts as they were intended. A sign of respect for who you are versus the way you have presented yourself for years. It is an unfortunate reality of life that people do tend to judge us form appearance first, actions second. It was our intention to make others see beyond that to the real Potions Master.
It is our hope that you will accept and honor these offers. Your belongings will be returned to you in a week's time and it will be up to you to return to using them or continue using what we have provided. All of them now belong to you, as they have since we procured them.
Please try not to seek us out, although we do not blame you if you try.
The followers of Loki
PS. Please excuse the color of your towels. We could not make the astringent charm hold on to them without it.
Attached to the letter was the formulation for the shampoo he'd been using as well as the braiding and astringent charms that had been sent his way. The name and address of a tailor. He could not help but admire whoever the followers of Loki were. The had made him have a taste of what it would mean to change his appearance and then leaving it up to him to continue.
His mouth twitched again as he thought over his week, from the looks in the hallways to the love letters. He shook his head to himself. He re-read the letter again and smirked at the postscript.
Pink towels indeed.
Then something that nobody currently in Hogwarts would have believed, happened. The Potions Master laughed.
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To the followers of Loki,
You have undone in one week what I strived for years to do: Present an image that matched what was believed of me.
You obviously have the cunning of Slytherins, the talents of Ravenclaws, the perseverance of Hufflepuffs and most distressing, the courage of Gryffindors. How could one teacher hope to overcome all of that? I've always believed that is why the house system exists. So we can identify and separate such traits as to more easily manage all of you.
I make no promises regarding if I will continue using your gifts or not. However, I could be persuaded to do so if you will tell me how you got into my rooms undetected.
Formally,
Severus Snape
"I'm thinking of framing it." The young man said holding on to the letter as if it were a talisman.
"You really should keep it safe. Maybe someday Severus will actually admit having written it to you." The headmaster agreed. "Will you let him know how you were getting inside?"
"I'm not sure yet."
"How were you getting inside?"
Harry smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
The old headmaster laughed softly. "Could I have a copy of the recording you made? I have not heard Severus laugh like that in many a year. It's good for my conscience to know he still can."