"Potter," sneered Snape, "have you seen my spectacles?"
Harry smirked as he often does. "You're wearing them, Snape. On your face."
Snape's hand flew to his face, praying it wasn't true. Oh, the consequences, the years of regret if it were true. Long, white fingers fell on plastic frame. He winced. "So they are," he said when he could speak again. "Thank you, Potter."
He turned to walk away, feeling the wonder-boy's gimlet gaze boring into the back of his head. He knew then that it would never be the same again, that from this day forward the story of his life would be penned in a new and terrifying ink.
"That's okay... Dad," whispered Harry when he was quite sure Snape was out of earshot.