Disclaimer: Let me check... Nope. Still not mine. Hmm… Maybe, later?

PART I - MERLIN BLESS THE NIGHT

Chapter 3 With My Bare Wand

Harry-Who-Broke-Loose was roaming through the dark corridors of the peacefully sleeping castle; his voice like thunder, his face like desert storm; black waves of menace tangibly emanating from his predatory form... Soon, soon he will find this cowardly, callous, pathetic excuse of a father figure, and… He almost pitied the greasy bastard already. Almost…

"Looking for somebody, Mr. Potter?"

Harry whirled around. Right behind (and well above) him was the un-readable and un-reviewable face, firmly attached to the Head of Slytherin House.

"You!"

"Indeed. An exceptionally acute observation, I must say."

I… I'LL KILL YOU, SNAPE!!! WITH MY BARE… WAND!!!

"How very original, Potter. I'm impressed. I truly am."

Snape was lazily stretching his long, well groomed, nice and supple, hollywoodish fingers... Wait a bit…

HOLLY WOOD?! NICE AND SUPPLE?! PHOENIX FEATHER?!

Harry gasped. "My wand!" He frantically patted his vast sleeves. Nothing but the armpits. He fumbled in his deep pockets. Nothing but… eh… nothing worth mentioning. His knees buckled.

"So, am I right to assume you were looking for me? " Snape sounded extremely bored.

"Um... No. No. Not me... you. That was another Professor Snape. Yes, yes... No… Not professor. A very different many much another Snape… Professor… Sir…"

"Hmm... How disappointing. A relative of mine, perhaps?" continued Snape, casually advancing on the murderous predator underfoot.

"Um... No, no... No relative… mine... yours... relative... not..."

"Hmm. How extremely disappointing." A step forward.

"Come to think of it, your very existence is but one huge disappointment… Potter."

Another step, and where once an untamable lion stood proudly, now a drowned kitten was cowering in a dump stone corner of the dungeons. Even Snape appeared to be somewhat impressed at this feat of advanced self-transfiguration; because a couple of eternities later, he sighed and stepped away.

"Very well, Potter. You may go."

"??"

"?! (yet another eyebrow at action)."

"Um... Professor?"

"Still here, Potter? Enjoying my company, perhaps?"

"Um, yes. What? No! Eh... Detention?"

THIS WHOLE BLOODY CASTLE IS JUST ONE BIG DETENTION, POTTER!!!

"Oh... I see it now... What?! Not even points?"

"Points? What is the point in taking non-existing points, Potter? Gryffindor is still in minus 2357 points, thanks to a very aSPEWring member of your noble house. Of course, the freedom of poor house-elves is far above such petty notions..."

"Oh... I see it now... What?! We were in only minus 1823 yesterday!"

"Hmm... Unfortunately, I was forced to take 5 points this afternoon from Mister Trevor Longbottom for wearing my House'scolors. I believe also that another point was taken by our esteemed Headmaster when he got a glimpse of this morning's breakfast... Need I remind you, Mr. Potter, which House'srepresentative has been assigned all the kitchen duties in the absence of the house-elves?..."

Harry shook his head wordlessly. After the house-elves vacated kitchens, Hermione readily took the place over, in her quest to prove... eh, whatever…

"…And, if you add here 411 points Headmaster Dumbledore took after he got the taste of today's breakfast..."

Harry paled. He too has been reckless enough to take the taste of Hermione's cooking.

"Oh... I see it now... What?! You mean, he took only about a hundred of points after today's lunch and dinner?!"

"No, Potter. After today's breakfast Headmaster Dumbledore is absolutely unable to pay any attention to yet many, many of lunches and dinners to follow..."

Snape made a lengthy pause here. But if he was waiting for Harry to ask the much anticipated next question, he was in for a big disappointment. Mr. Harry B. Potter was just mutely staring at him with those bright-green saucers of his; and Snape sighed, yielding to the Supreme Power of Stupidity.

"It was Professor McGonnagal, if you absolutely must know, Potter."

"Yes, sir?"

"I said, it was Professor McGonnagal!!!"

"Eh...What about her?"

IT WAS PROFESSOR MCGONNAGAL WHO TOOK ALL THE REMAINING POINTS FROM THE GRYFFINDOR HOUSE, POTTER!!!

"Oh... I see it now... What?! But she's our Head of House!!!"

"Right you are Potter, right you are… But, as you failed to notice, apart from this head she has other bodily parts which require some daily attention."

"Eh?"

"Professor McGonnagal took 117 points from Gryffindor after she had to levitate 117 buckets of hot water all the way up to her personal bathroom… One point per bucket, as my intuition tells me."

"Oh... I see it now... What?! That much water would be enough for the giant squid!!!"

"Somebody was stealing all the water from her buckets half the way from the dungeon's boiler."

"Oh... I see it now... What?! From the dungeon's boiler?!"

Harry suddenly remembered how pink-clean and contently looking all the Slytherin House (even Snape!) were at this morning's breakfast. His bright-green saucers narrowed in suspicion. Snape just sneered innocently and Harry B. Potter felt his familiar rage returning (it always did, sooner or later; that's the problem with all familiars).

WE STILL NEED TO TALK, SNAPE!!!

"Hmm… And what is it about, Mister Potter… if I may be as bold as to ask?"

"I can't tell you!!!"

Snape yawned.

"Very well, Potter. I know just the right place and time where you can speak safely about what you can't speak about.

He waved his hand in a wide circle. A faintly shimmering door appeared in front of them."

"???"

"Never seen a Time Portal in your whole miserable life, Potter?"

"Oh... I see it now... What?! My life is not miserable!!!"

"Isn't it? That could be still arranged, Mister Potter. That still could be arranged... Not that I'm threatening you, of course..."

Snape very slowly pocketed Harry's hollywoodish wand inside the folds of his off-black cloak.

"... (blink, glare, blink)"

"This is a Short Distance Time Portal, Potter. It will send us both back in a very near past. Say, half-an-hour ago from now, away from hungry insomniac prefects?.." He made another pause, this time looking faintly puzzled.

"Frankly, Potter, I don't know why I'm doing this… other that out of a sheer boredom, perhaps… Oh, well…" Snape whirled around and stepped through the door.

Harry hesitated: something felt wrong about all this… Finally, summoning all the meager remnants of his Gryffindor curiosity and Slytherin courage (and borrowing some more from his next life, for good measure), he took a deep breath and followed after his more-than-ever-hated teacher…

=xXx=

They materialized in a dark and dungy corridor, which looked slightly barren, except for a dirty, lumpy laundry bag, which looked vaguely familiar, which looked faintly suspicious... [Ah! Behold the light at the end of the sentence…. A/N].

Had Harry known the meaning of a déjà vu, he might have acted differently. But, as the only French word he knew was bouillabaisse, he just felt (for the second time in a row, but who's counting) that something was terribly wrong… which feeling never stopped him from acting before, so why to bother now?...

"Very well, Potter. You may speak now. Oh, I'm positively bursting with curiosity..."

But before Snape could yawn again, he was assaulted by the face-to-face sight, and nose-to-nose aroma of a Once-Again-Very-Predatory-Harry-Potter standing on his (Harry's) tip-toes.

"So, you knew it all along?!"

"Knew what?"

"That I'm your long-lost-and-found son!!!"

The forgotten laundry bag squeaked once, faintly; Harry whipped round at the sound; two pairs of unblinking green eyes met and blinked; and Time itself stopped breathing for a while, adjusting to the significance of this fateful moment…

And at this precise moment Harry Bloody Ignorant Potter truly and for the first time understood...

… not the subtle humor of being stuck between his most hated professor and… well, himself.

… not the higher reason behind the lousy games of all the adults he ever had the misfortune to meet.

… and, most certainly, not the complex nature of Time Paradox, which keeps happily escaping the unspeakably brilliant minds of all the time-warners in the Department of Mysteries.

Harry Potter merely understood what felt so terribly wrong all the way long:

HIS WHOLE MISERABLE LIFE...