DISCLAIMER:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Harry was not involved in the next attempt at the counter curse, which was a good thing, as it failed. Not spectacularly, but with a small fizzle and half-hearted pop.

Dumbledore and Flitwick exchanged knowing glances and shook their heads.

"Perhaps there is a time delay?" Flitwick offered hopefully, nervously fidgeting his wand in his small hands.


"Perhaps." Dumbledore agreed, patting the Charms Master's shoulder, "Perhaps old friend."

Flitwick shoulder's sagged in defeat as he watched Hermione snake back into her corner of the glass tank. The little trollop was suggestively sashaying her body for Snape as she slid away.

This was bad, Harry thought…

Five seconds later Ron asked. "Umm Harry? Is this bad?"

"We need to talk to Draco." Harry told him, pulling on his sleeve until they were both near the infirmary's door.

"We tried that," Ron pouted. "Do you reckon Hermione knows what Snape's doing?" He asked screwing up his face as he watched the pining black adder fling himself bodily against the glass attempting to attract Hermione's attention. "I mean she's doesn't right?"

"Yes. Ron. Hermione knows. She started it." 

And Snape wants to finish it.

"But she thinks she's a snake?"

"Yes. Ron. She thinks she's a snake." They paused as Madam Pomfrey extracted Hermione from the tank and put her a workbench on the other side of the room. Snape stopped his frantic efforts long enough to flatten himself to the tabletop and stare intently at the women. Harry gritted his teeth for emphasis. "Come on, we need to TALK to Malfoy."

"We tried talking remember? So if she thinks she's a snake, she must know what Snape is doing… ipso facto."

"What?"

"You know, she's a snake, therefore she thinks snake stuff."

Harry shook his head trying to clear the cloud of confusion Ron had conjured up. Harry decided to give up trying to wade through Ron's logic, instead continuing with his train of thought.

Checking over his shoulder that they were out of earshot, he said. "Do you know sign language Ron?"

"Harry?" Ron paused and scowled at him. "Why do we need to know sign language? Is this because snakes are deaf?"

"No, Ron." Harry sighed wondering (not for the first time) if that bludger to his head in sixth year had caused Ron permanent injury. "For Draco. We tried talking with our mouths, now we try the magical form of sign language…" Harry put a lot of emphasis on 'magical', carefully guiding Ron out the infirmary door and showing him how his fingers curled into a fist. "See how they sign?" Harry did a karate chop and then a left jab, "Fingers, hands, fists and wands?"

Ron's mouth 'o'ed, then quipped, "Tell you what. After lunch we could hang Draco from the Astronomy tower by his shoelaces?"

"Ron, I'm serious!"


"So was I!"

"At this point Ron, I'm willing to join Voldemort to get the little creep to reverse the spell."

"Whoa Harry, don't go off the deep -" Ron's warning was interrupted by a flash and gurgle as something dark and body shaped formed in the air above them and tumbled to the floor. "What the-!"

"Ohhhh." The bundle moaned.

"Owww."

"Hey watch it!" Ron yelled. "Who do you think you are falling out of the ceiling like that?"


"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

The bundle breathed and coughed and asked, "What time is it?"

"What are you thick? It's lunchtime." Ron supplied, "We're off to grab some grub."


The bundle rolled over and pulled Hogwart's robe from its face to reveal a dark head, strained pale expression and Ravenclaw tie. "Year?"


Ron looked at Harry who looked at Ron, then down to the dark haired boy at their feet and came up with the only logical conclusion. "You must have banged your head."

Adding as they stepped over the prostate youth. "I would go see Madam Pomfrey if I were you."

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Pomfrey was not known for her psychic abilities but on this occasion her predictions proved to be startling accurate. At two o'clock exactly Cornelius Fudge face appeared in Dumbledore's fireplace and huffily told him that there would an urgent School Council meeting, shortly after the Minister 'just happened to drop by' for an impromptu meeting with four other identically dressed Ministry officials.

After the Ministry ascertained the seriousness of the situation Dumbledore, Pomfrey and Flitwick were ordered to explain themselves not only to them, but to Miss Granger and Miss Brown's parents as well. It became a long drawn out afternoon. Both sets of parents understandably shocked and angered, first by being dragged out of their Muggle world and second, into the events that they could barely understand… but that was not the worst of it.

The Grangers had to be told of their daughter's indiscretion with a certain black adder. As Head Master Dumbledore knew the task was his and his alone to tell Hermione's parents. They were calm pleasant people who smelt strongly of peppermint and cloves. Quietly he drew aside the couple with the intention of telling them, nodding to Pomfrey indicating he would appreciate her support. The Mediwitch quietly left the Brown's to Flitwick's charms and took a chair beside the aged wizard.

Dumbledore emptied out the last of the Earl Grey in the Wedgwood cups he nodded to himself. There was no polite of explaining it, he would have to tell them straight. He peered at the expectant faces of the Grangers and guilty sipped some of his hot sweet tea before putting it aside and saying, "Professor Snape and your daughter have mated."

A silence followed, then a clutter of cups on saucers. "The other snake?"


"Yes."

"What? Pardon me?" Mr Granger shot to his feet, dropping his cup, spilling its contents all over the expensive carpet at his feet. "He did what to my daughter? What sort of people do you employ here Dumbledore? I'll kill him! I'll castrate the bastard!"

"He's a snake dear?" Mrs Granger's voice was distant, but calm. "How do you castrate a snake?"


"I don't know, but I'll find a way! A quick turn through the slice and dice setting on the food processor should sort it!"

"Please Mr Granger, shouting and threats of violence are not helping. Professor Snape is a fine upstanding member of Hogwart's faculty." To one side of him he heard Pomfrey's barely discernible snort. "Of course it is terrible news, but it was also unintentional. The longer Hermione and Sev- Professor Snape stay the creatures they have transformed into the more they become like them. It could not be helped. Of course, we at Hogwarts do not condone this sort of behaviour  - ever, but the fact is this is not the usual ill-fated adolescent tryst nor for that matter the rather more disturbing teacher-student affair. It's something else entirely. It's nature; it's the time of the year for adders to breed and instinct won out. Neither Professor Snape nor Hermione are to blame in this matter. Please understand we regret this as much as you and so would Professor Snape, if he ever gets back to normal."

"Mores the pity." Dumbledore almost turned his head to glare at Pomfrey, but instead he calmly looked at a red-faced, clearing angry Mr Granger, then to his wife.

Mrs Granger sat next to her husband with a stunned expression on her face. Mr Granger had just inhaled a great lungful of air, but before he could release it in a tirade of Muggle curses Mrs Granger intervened. She spoke quietly and quickly, putting down her cup of tea with a shaking hand before placing it on her husband's forearm.

"I would like to see my daughter please."

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Madam Pomfrey discretely put Snape in the back office when the Grangers, trailed by the Browns came to visit their radically different daughters.

"Is that her?" Margery Granger asked as she stared into the fish tank at the small wound up bundle of green.

"Yes." Poppy answered kindly. "Would you like to hold her?"

Behind them the Brown's were staring in disbelief at the rotund pink pig in the pen. Mr Brown was the first to lean over to coax Lavender to him for a pet. His daughter tentatively trotted up and sniffed his hand.

"There." Mr Brown said with a smile. "It's Dad, that's right." He scratched Lavender behind the ear, while Mrs Brown broke into loud sobs and cried. "A pig? My baby's a pig!"

"There, there Dora. It's all right, look? She eats whatever you put in front of her." He said as he fed his daughter a piece of stale bread.

Mrs Brown clutched a perfumed handkerchief to her nose and wailed, before running out of the infirmary.

"Poppy?" Dumbledore waved at the departing woman, "Please."


Madam Pomfrey smiled at the Grangers, gave Mrs Granger the gloves and went out after Mrs Brown.

"She seems alright?"  Mrs Granger commented as Hermione wound herself around her forearm and gazed intently into her face.

"She's fit and healthy." Dumbledore said.

Mr Granger grumbled beside him. "She better be."

"Does she know who I am?"


Dumbledore's eyes sadden. "She may."

"When she changes back will she remember?"

"He said he couldn't change her back!" Mr Granger's anger smelt of iron and smoke. "Bloody wizards and witches… It's all an occult cult!"


"Enough Mr Granger!" Dumbledore's face fell further as did his voice; the very floor seemed to vibrate with it. He paused, and said in a normal tone. "Please… Hope is what we cling to, Mr Granger. Hope is as fundamental to life as it is to magic."

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Sometime later when the girls parents had been fed, halfway mollified and despatched back to their lives with promises of urgent calls if there were any new developments Fudge visited the infirmary. The politician shook his head as he peered into the glass tank and then over to the windowsill where Snape was now dozing. "Messy business Dumbledore."

"Yes, transformations are always difficult."


"Hmmm." Cornelius Fudge pretended to consider these words, then bluntly said. "I was talking about the sex old man. Her parents are furious."

"As to be expected. Although…" Albus tilted his head in contemplation, ":I wonder why they aren't more concerned about her being a snake."

"Because as Muggles they assume we can fix anything!" Pomfrey stated testily as she came into the ward. "But no one can repair her virtue."

Dumbledore's expression grew sombre and his voice placating. "An unforeseen event. It could not be helped Poppy."


"Yes, well." Fudge glanced at the Head Master. "Try telling her parents that! They're threatening to go to the Muggle press."

"Albus, you see! I knew this would happen." Pomfrey seethed, flapped her apron and spun on her heel.

"It's a very frustrating situation, but not one of our - or their - choosing." He added as Pomfrey wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "Please Poppy, try to understand."

"It was terrible for them Albus." She sniffed. "Can you imagine finding out your child could be lost to you forever?"

"The School Council is not at all impressed." Fudge stated sternly. "Malfoy is seething. He wants your head for this."


"Considering it was his son who performed the curse Minister, Mr Lucius Malfoy would do better directing his anger at his own house."

Fudge paled. "Lucuis's son did this?" He gripped Dumbledore's arm, "Why didn't you say?"


"He has not admitted it, but the evidence strongly suggests Draco Malfoy performed the curse."


"Make him reverse it!"


"Minister, as you are well aware magic performed under force falls into the realm of the Dark Arts. One would hope the Ministry does not support such acts?"

"No." Fudge had the good grace to blush and look flustered. "Of course we don't. Very good Dumbledore, but you should have informed me earlier."

"It was an in-house matter, Minister. Only when the counter spells failed…" Albus schooled his expression into one of conspiratorial mean. "Perhaps a word to Mr Malfoy about his son and how this could impact on the wizarding world?"

Whether it was the threat of the Muggle press getting hold of this story and heaven forbid, finding some basis for it or Lucius Malfoy's influential rage, Cornelius Fudge, consummate government man, (down to his bowler hat and pin-striped suit) could on occasion think and act incredibly quickly. "We could authorise obliviates on the parents?"

"You could." Dumbledore agreed, "Although the ethics of such a choice are grey. Cornelius, your visit to our humble school was not discrete. Perhaps we here at Hogwarts are to blame for this, we are but simple teachers. Yet let there be no doubt that by the time you leave Hogwarts, Hogsmeade and large portions of Diagon alley and environs know of what has occurred. It is not easy to obliviate an entire school, village and parts of greater London."

"Is that a threat Dumbledore?" Fudge straightened to his full portly height.


"No." Albus raised his hands in a sign of surrender. "A simple fact."

"I'll talk to Lucius."

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Meanwhile Harry and Ron had their own 'problem', namely, the tall, thin dark haired teenager who had nearly flattened them earlier. He was trailing about after them like a stray dog.

"He's still following us." Ron stage whispered to Harry as they strolled down the corridor from the Great Hall, pretending not to be stalking Draco Malfoy, when clearly they were.

"I know." Harry replied. "Ignore him."


"We can't ignore him." Ron paused and their shadow came to a halt behind them. "He must be new, all the Ravenclaws were staring and pointing at him during lunch."

Harry wasn't interested or listening. He had violent revenge on his mind. "Where's Draco gone now? He's gone up the staircases. Come on, Ron!" The boys set off after the nasty Slytherin, taking the steps two at a time.

"He won't reverse the spell for you!" The dark haired boy shouted before they reached the next level.

Harry stoped mid-stride, clenched his fists and glared down at the newcomer. "Would you mind keeping your voice down?"

"And watch you get suspended…" The boy called up to them. "Harry Potter isn't it? I don't think so."

"Look, whoever you are-"

"Sam."


"Excuse me?"

"My name is Sam."

"Sam?" Ron was lost, he had his wand drawn and had been riding high on the crest of a wave of self-righteous adrenalin, but the endogenous stimulant was now leeching out his system, leaving him cold and shivery. He looked at Harry, who was still fuming. His friend's cheeks had two small red spots in the pale expanse of rage. Ron put on his most determined angry face, leant over the staircase and said in his best soft and menacing voice. "Well Sam. As you can see Harry and I are busy and we would appreciate it if you-"


"Buggered off." Harry supplied.

"Yeah," Ron nodded. So that's how Harry wanted to play it. He straightened up and puffed out his chest. "Bugger off!"

"And leave the entertainment? I think not!" Sam folded his arms and casually leant on a banister, smirking. "I know how the spell was reversed. You're wasting your time with Malfoy. He'd rather sleep on a bed of nails than do what you want him to."

"You seem awfully sure of yourself." Harry said.

"Yeah." Ron agreed, "And-" His gaze darted about in thought, his mouth open. "How come you're so smart?


"I'm a Ravenclaw." Sam dryly observed. "My genetic loading played a significant part and … " Sam tilted his head in a very disconcertingly familiar fashion and growled, "I'm from the future you dunderhead!"

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tbc