A/N: Written by Breannatala, Betaed by Morwen
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Harry Potter was huddled under his Invisibility Cloak in the Gryffindor common room, searching the Marauder's Map. Tonight, as for the past two days, Snape was noticeably absent from the corridors, which was odd, considering how much he enjoyed taking points from non-Slytherin students. Still, Harry wasn't looking too hard. He still didn't have any plans for the prank he was stuck with, and he wasn't excited about it. After all, this was Snape he was about to prank.
As if Snape didn't hate him enough already. If I get caught... he pushed that thought away, rubbing his temples while trying to not fall asleep. He really did want to hex George for this. Just because he had the Cloak…
Searching the dungeons again, Harry finally spotted Snape walking from his office. Thinking he could reach the Potions professor in time, Harry got up, snuck out of the tower without waking the Fat Lady – for once – and made his way toward the dungeons as quickly as he could. He made sure to keep an eye on the Map as he ran, so that he wouldn't lose Snape or run into any other teachers on the prowl.
Harry didn't have a good idea what he was going to do, so when he did finally catch up to Snape, he simply followed as closely as he could without alerting the older wizard to his presence. Soon, Snape's long legs took him into a dungeon area that was unmarked on the Map. Curiosity, more than anything else, overrode Harry's instinct to head back to the Common Room as Snape continued into the deeper areas of the castle. The man soon stopped at a tapestry, and after a muttered password, it folded itself into the oddest doorframe that Harry had ever seen. The green and gold fabric opened into a grey-tinted room, and for a moment, Harry just stood there, knowing that this was his last chance to run back to Gryffindor Tower.
Before he could lose his nerve, merely two seconds after Snape stepped through, Harry darted into the room. He quickly clung to the wall and held completely still, holding his breath to made sure that Snape would not hear him. He let out his breath as quietly as he could while Snape moved around the dark room. As soon as he knew that the teacher hadn't heard him, Harry relaxed slightly and looked around the dungeon.
The room he was in (the parlour) was twice as big as the living room at the Dursley house, and although it wasn't small, the room felt extremely crowded. Everywhere he looked, there were books: in piles and on shelves, only a few with labels. Shelves covered the walls so thickly that he couldn't tell if the walls were stone or painted, and the sofa that sat by the large fireplace was surrounded by two tables, both cluttered with books and other school supplies. In addition to those near the fireplace, there was another table, one that could probably fit six people comfortably. It sat in the middle of the room, with only one stiff-looking chair facing the tapestry entrance. The large table, too, was cluttered, and was used for research or planning, if the open books, quills, ink, and piles of parchment were any indication.
Harry turned his attention back to Snape, who was wandering around the room, sorting parchments, piling books and throwing away rubbish. The moment that Snape threw away the first piece of parchment Harry realized what a horrible hiding place he had chosen. The wastepaper basket was only three feet away, and Snape passed Harry's corner several times in order to dispose of the garbage. He tensed each time the man passed, hoping that the Potions Master wouldn't sense him there.
After all, it wasn't as though Snape didn't know about the Invisibility Cloak. He had suspected Harry of using it before, and had almost caught him last year. It still unnerved Harry to remember it; he had gotten caught in the stairs and dropped the egg onto the staircase. Snape had been very close to grabbing him and ripping the Cloak off; something that Harry didn't want to think about.
Still, Snape seemed completely oblivious to the fact that his most hated student was lurking in his rooms, and Harry was determined to keep it that way. He began to inch across the wall, away from the wastepaper basket and toward the door. Finally satisfied that he was in a fairly safe position, he slumped down along the wall, and waited for Snape to stop pacing.
After about a half-hour, Snape finally seemed to settle down. He left his office/parlour, going into another room through a door that had been closed before. Good, maybe he's gone to bed. Harry quietly made his way across the room to the fireplace to look at the books and rolls of parchment that were now piled neatly on the two tables there. Glancing back at the door Snape had gone through, Harry picked up one of the top books and pulled it underneath the Cloak.
It wasn't even in English. What language was Snape studying in? Turkish? Shrugging, Harry inched the book onto the pile again. He pushed the Cloak back slightly, so it wouldn't be in his way as he looked through the books. All of them seemed to be in the same, curvy language, so Harry moved away toward the second table. He picked up a book that was alone on the table, beside the sofa. He nearly dropped it when the door behind him opened, and Harry quickly checked the Invisibility Cloak, making sure that Snape couldn't see him.
Trying to sense where his teacher was, Harry moved cautiously away from the tables and chair as he tried not to bump anything, his back still to the professor. When he reached the corner of the room, the book still in his hand, he turned around slowly. He immediately shrank back, hoping to Merlin that Snape would just go to bed already. He didn't relax until a door closed behind the Potions Master with a decisive thud.
At least he didn't catch me, Harry thought, trying not to think about what would have happened if Snape had caught a student in his private rooms.
Glancing down at the green leather book in his hands, Harry read the title. The Art of Rominla. Frowning at the rather odd title, Harry made sure that he could hear Snape moving around before he opened the book to the first chapter.
"The rare plant Rominla," it read, "is usually avoided, both by Potion Masters and Herbologists, due to its fastidious growing conditions and dangerous secretions. In addition, once cut, the leaves will emit a poisonous fume, deadly to human tissue. Still, those who risk the dangers of the plant will reap all the rewards of…"
As the door reopened, Harry looked up to see Snape enter the room. The man didn't seem at all ready for bed. He sat down on the sofa... and Harry held his breath. This is not worth it, he thought, cataloguing various hexes he could use on George. He could catch me, and there's no real reason to do this…
From his corner, Harry could see the room perfectly. His teacher was apparently getting ready to relax, if it was possible for the over-stressed man. After settling himself on the seat, Snape reached out for a book – and met only the table. Confused, he got up and began scanning the book piles, looking for a specific text.
Harry felt his heart beat faster. Why did I have to pick up that book? Not daring to move, Harry tightened his grip on the Rominla book while Snape searched through the piles.
"Where is that book?" Snape growled. Harry watched from his – hopefully – safe, invisible, open corner, hoping that Snape wouldn't think to summon the book.
He didn't, thankfully, and appeared to give up. He stalked into the room opposite the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Harry let out a silent sigh of relief. Maybe now he should breathe deeply for a while, or do anything that would calm his nerves. After all, Snape was only more likely to sense something wrong if Harry was hyperventilating in the corner.
Well, since I have nothing else to do… Harry opened the book again and kept reading about Rominla. Who was nutters enough to write a whole book about one potion ingredient?
About half an hour later, he was struggling to keep his eyes open. Snape must be in bed by now, Harry thought. He stood and stretched his stiff muscles, then placed the book horizontally on a shelf. Snape had put several other books there, and Harry was hoping that his professor would find it there and think that he had simply mislaid it. He hadn't checked there, after all.
Harry took one last look around the room. He had been looking for something – anything – that would inspire a prank, but he found nothing.
Did Snape do anything other than teach, read, and grade? There didn't seem to be anything odd about the man. Well, other than his nasty temper. He didn't even have some kind of little secret to exploit. Harry was beginning to despair over this assignment.
Maybe he'd find a way to release something that belonged to the twins into Snape's office…or something. It'd be a prank and all this would be over. It wasn't as if he could compete with what the twins had done to Dumbledore…or Luna's prank on McGonagall.
As a last act of desperation, Harry walked over to what must be the bedroom and peeked into the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out Snape's sleeping form lying on top of a large canopy bed.
It looked just like the parlour, except that there were no bookshelves or tables. There was almost nothing in there except the bed, a nightstand, and a chest of drawers.
Looking closely at some pictures on the nightstand, Harry started in surprise as he saw a familiar figure in each of them.
They were all still, obviously Muggle-taken, and seemed to be several years old. The largest one had two children in it, both younger than first-years, but not by much. One appeared to be a much-younger Snape. He was smiling (causing Harry to blink) and holding hands with a girl, who was grinning back at him. She had familiar bright green eyes and red hair…
Mum, Harry thought, almost saying the name aloud. He reached for the picture, only to stop himself, as he remembered where he was.
What's Snape doing with my mum? He asked himself, looking suspiciously over at the sleeping man. And why does he have so many pictures of her?
Looking closer at the pictures, he realized they reminded him of other pictures he looked at frequently; they felt like the ones taken of him, Ron and Hermione – friends. They must have been friends.
At this strange, unwelcome realization, Harry shook his head and took a few steps backward. It didn't make sense at all. Severus Snape and Lily Evans had been friends? But Snape hated Harry Potter! Hated looking at him, hated how he acted...
Snape rolled over, and Harry's heart almost stopped. As soon as the man stilled again, he crept out of the room and headed straight for Gryffindor Tower.
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The next day in Potions, Tuesday, Harry made sure to do his best, hoping to avoid any extra attention from his teacher. It worked, but by the end of the class period, Harry was rethinking his decision to confront Snape.
He had returned to the Common Room at 1:00am. No one had been there except Ron and Hermione, who had been waiting for him. They had been (understandably) worried about his return, but he hadn't told them much. Ron had been satisfied with an assurance that Harry hadn't gotten himself caught, but Hermione had continued to worry after she heard that Harry hadn't thought of any ideas. She, of course, already had a full page of ideas for her prank, and it wasn't planned until Saturday!
Harry wasn't really worried about the prank anymore. He never had been, really. He just wanted to find out exactly how Snape had known Harry's mum, and why no one had ever told Harry about it. If Snape had known his mum, even for a little while, Harry was willing to sit through some extra insults to hear some things about her.
At least, he had thought so that morning. Now that Snape was actually in front of him, and he had to go up and ask his teacher about his mother, Harry felt very nervous about the whole business.
He made his decision when he had no other choice; it was either leave with Ron and Hermione or stay and talk with Snape. Harry chose to stay, motioning to his friends that he'll be along.
Turning to Snape, Harry knew he had time. Both he and the Potions Master had a free period, but when Harry caught sight of the signature glare, it made him reconsider – again.
"Potter, I'm sure you have somewhere to be," Snape said smoothly, telling Harry, in the usual underhanded way, that he was to leave – now.
"Sir," Harry asked politely, "Were you really a friend of my mother?"
That stopped Snape in his tracks. Of all the things Harry could have been there for, that seemed to have never crossed his mind. Hesitantly but smoothly, Snape turned toward him.
"And what would give you such an idea?" Snape spoke clearly and harshly, narrowing his eyes toward Harry.
"My Aunt Petunia said something like that once." Harry stopped there. Surely Aunt Petunia had some inkling as to who Lily Potter's friends were, right? They had been sisters.
Snape didn't answer at first. He just looked at Harry with the blank glare that always made him want to start fidgeting.
"Your mother is not something I wish to speak of," Snape finally answered. "Get out."
Harry did, extremely disappointed. He wondered what could have happened between Lily and his teacher that would cause Snape to act that way.
After thinking about it for a bit, Harry decided that he probably didn't want to know. He already knew that Snape was a very nasty person, and that had probably been enough of a reason for Lily. Now, though, he had a reason to pull the prank, what with Snape refusing to tell him about his mother. And it was going to be good.
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Harry realized that he was going to want something that he could set up, then watch it go off. After all, he really didn't want to be caught, and anything that would require him to actually do anything at the time would be too hard to pull off unnoticed.
The twins had been helpful enough to point him toward several books with timing charms, but refused to do any of the hard work for him. Consequently, Harry spent most of his free time that day researching charms and doing all the calculations so that the charms would trigger at the right times. He would also have to get into the classroom that night and set everything up, but that shouldn't be too hard.
Then there was the problem of choosing pranks to set up. Harry decided not to use anything that the Weasley twins had invented, because that would make all the Gryffindor boys look suspicious. While Harry was in the library, he found several charms that would interact with the timing spells, and quickly copied down ones that looked promising. Harry became so absorbed in the planning that he missed dinner, so Ron had to bring him up some bread, meat, and broccoli.
That evening, after watching the Snape dot preparing to leave the potions classroom, Harry put his Cloak back on and snuck down to the dungeons for the second night in a row. Slipping inside behind Snape, Harry quickly attached his spells to locations in the classroom: the desk, floor, and ingredient cupboard. After adding the timing spells, he ran up to the Common Room, hoping to get at least 6 hours of sleep before having to wake up the next morning.
After all, he wanted to see the prank with a well-rested mind.
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Harry did his best to keep calm as he walked into the potions classroom, talking with Ron and Hermione as usual. He hadn't told anyone when in the day the prank would take place, nor exactly what he was planning. Only a few people knew that it was Harry, and most of them wouldn't expect him to do something this generic... It was a first, anyway.
This lesson would be the one, if nothing had gone wrong with his timing charms, and he was extremely ambivalent. He didn't know whether he should be excited that it was going to work or worried that he might get caught or guilty because, really, pranking someone like this wasn't really... nice at all.
Harry sat down in his usual spot and took out his book and notebook, looking as bored as he usually did in Potions. Apparently, when he really didn't want to be caught, acting normal was easy.
Snape glided in, as usual, lecturing on the potion that they were going to make that day. He moved back and forth between the desk and the students, passing back their essays. What was unusual was that, for once, Harry actually understood what Snape was talking about. He had spent yesterday researching the potion (and various other things) in order to sabotage the ingredient cupboard.
The first indication that the first prank had activated came when Snape stopped in front of his desk, still holding a few rolls of assignments. At first glance, everything seemed as though Snape was just concentrating on what he was saying, as he had begun discussing what not to do, but soon it was obvious that something was off. Snape, without moving from his spot, slid the remaining assignments on the desk behind him and continued to lecture.
Harry pretended not to notice that Snape was stuck to the floor, continuing to doodle on his parchment without looking up. It wasn't until Harry heard the first giggle from the back of the room that he looked up.
"Miss Brown, 5 points from Gryffindor!"
Snape was, to put it nicely, glaring. Harry looked up innocently, and then watched as Snape pulled out his wand and waved it about slightly – obviously cancelling the spell.
"Get to work. The ingredients are in the cupboard," Snape snapped, before sitting down at his desk. After checking the ingredient list, Harry stood to gather what he needed for the potion: two different powdered ingredients, a few cat whiskers, and a few other disgusting-looking magical creature parts.
Today's potion was an individual project, so Harry set up his own cauldron and began working quietly, asking Hermione a few questions here and there, as usual.
Fifteen minutes later, it was Hermione's turn to ask a question.
"Harry, Ron, does your Bicorn Horn look odd to you?" she asked, and Harry glanced her way before shrugging.
"I haven't gotten there yet." He heard an ominous hiss from his own cauldron and turned back to it, immediately adding two cat hairs and counting to twenty before mixing three times counter clockwise.
"Sorry," Hermione whispered, obviously feeling guilty at almost causing her friend to mess up his potion. Harry shrugged, and Hermione added the powered 'Bicorn Horn', obviously hesitant about the ingredient.
Five minutes later, Harry added the powdered Bicorn Horn to his cauldron and Hermione added a sliced newt eye to hers. Those at the surrounding benches jumped, as there was a series of small bangs issuing from Hermione's potion before it started boiling and hissing. Harry and Ron backed away while Hermione just stared at her cauldron.
"Miss Granger!" Snape said from his desk. "What could you have possibly gotten wrong?"
"It wasn't me, sir! The Bicorn Horn... something's wrong with it!"
"There is nothing wrong with the horn," Snape snapped. "It was powdered last night."
Hermione stared dejectedly at her now-empty cauldron. Harry would have felt bad if he hadn't known that everyone else's potion would be doing the very same thing in a moment.
And Harry was right. Soon after Hermione's cauldron had exploded, there were clusters of small bangs and pops from all around the room. Harry looked around the room, trying to look surprised that everyone was getting the potion wrong. To make it look like he was trying his best not to mess up the potion, Harry kept checking his book. He knew he was doing it right. Harry wanted to make sure his cauldron exploded, too. After all, it would look extremely suspicious if his didn't.
Ten minutes after Hermione's, Harry cauldron exploded too.
"It was after I put in the eyes!" Harry told Hermione quietly. "I was doing it right!"
"It has to be the eyes," Harry heard from behind him, and everyone who got that far – except Hermione – agreed.
"What is the matter?" Snape asked slowly, dangerously.
"Something's wrong with the newt eyes!" Malfoy exclaimed. "All the cauldrons exploded when the eyes went in!!"
"It's the horn," Hermione said, raising her voice. "It's all wrong. The texture, even the colour's a bit off."
Snape, seemingly ignoring his students, stood up shakily. He used the desk to steady himself, but once he got far enough away that he couldn't hold on, he suddenly collapsed. Several gasps were heard from around the classroom, and two of the Slytherin girls stood up to see if he was alright.
"Class dismissed! Clean up your stations and leave," snapped Snape. The class didn't move at first; they all stayed and watched as Snape slowly stood up with the help of two Slytherins and glared, leaning on his desk. "GO!" It was apparent that Snape was losing his temper. Fast. "Potter, stay behind!"
Harry's eyes widened, and he sat frozen as the rest of the class filed out. Harry caught Hermione's worried look, but Harry ignored her – he had to find a way out of this!
"P-Professor?" Harry finally asked once all the other students were gone. "Why did you want me to stay?"
"This was your doing, wasn't it?" Snape hissed dangerously.
"What was?" Harry asked, defiantly. He sounded just like he did when Dudley accused him of something that he hadn't done.
"This... prank. The ingredients, the floor glue, the sponge-knee charm on the desk . . ."
"Prank?" Harry asked, affronted. "I wouldn't prank someone like that unless they were a friend... and they knew something was coming! And besides, what's funny about someone not able to walk? No one was laughing!"
"You apparently meant for them to laugh," Snape snapped.
"I didn't do anything! Why are you blaming me?"
"You go around, breaking rules, is what you do! It's revenge for refusing to speak of your mother."
Harry started, then hardened his face. "If I were to get revenge for something – especially something stupid like that – I wouldn't do it in public! It's horrible! My cousin did something like that to me once, after I told on him to a teacher for ruining a pencil sharpener. It was embarrassing! I wouldn't! I swear!" Harry knew that he was probably giving away too much information, but it didn't matter right now. He did not want to get caught.
Snape stared, looking deeply into Harry's eyes. Harry looked back stubbornly, remembering how horrible he'd felt when Dudley had pranked him. After a few seconds, he looked away. Eye contact during a quiet moment like that always made him nervous.
"Go. If I hear any evidence that it was you who set this up, your free time will be very limited."
Harry sighed, relieved that he was getting off with nothing worse than a threat, and was about to gather his belongings when he turned to Snape.
"Do you . . . want me to call Madam Pomfrey?" Snape continued to glare at him, so he got his things and left as quickly as he could.
He made it.
