I do not own Harry Potter. This was a random drabble idea that knocked me upside the head, but did not turn out quite as I envisioned it.
Hogwarts students across the castle were in agreement. Harry Potter knew how to storm down a hallway. Raised as he was by his mother's best friend Severus Snape, traitor to the dark lord and former spy, the great bat of the dungeons, this was no surprise.
Harry also excelled at imitating a petulant toddler. Wiser heads knew to inform neither adopted father or son of this other shared trait.
Harry Potter stormed to the balcony above the great entryway of Hogwarts, summoned by the angry shouts of the resident Potions Master. He peered over the bannister at the cloaked figure four levels below him.
"I'm not going to the eye-witch! I've told you and told you!" the nine year old screeched down at his guardian.
"We need to get your eyes checked so that any degeneration can be halted, you stubborn twit!" said Snape, "So that you won't have to wear spectacles!"
"I hate being poked and prodded!" Harry whined.
"It's only a thirty minute appointment, go get your cloak!" said Snape, exasperated.
"I don't care, you can't tell me what to do!" Harry crossed his arms.
Snape put his hands on his hips in a gesture reminiscent of a wrathful Molly Weasley. "I can, and I will!" he retorted.
"YOU'RE NOT MY DAD!"
"I AM SO!"
"I WANT A PATERNITY TEST!" screamed Harry.
"NOT BIOLOGICALLY YOU TWIT, THIS ISN'T JERRY SPRINGER!" Snape roared.
Choked giggles sounded from some of the students who had paused to watch the spectacle, apparently muggleborn and halfblood students familiar with American Television.
"I don't know, professor," said one particularly daring young pink haired witch, "I think this is better than Jerry Springer."
"One hundred points from Hufflepuff, Nymphadora Tonks." Severus growled.
Tonks morphed her features to resemble her cousin's, and crossed her arms, scowling. "Don't call me Nymphadora!"
"You can't tell me what to do." snapped Snape.