Disclaimer: Unfortunately, we have tarried too long, and so we are not the great and famous JK Rowling, and therefore, we own none of these characters… ideas… etc.

A/N: Hello. We are minute aqueous arthropods, living at the bottom of an obscure crevasse in the South Pacific. Unlike many of our kind, however, we do not live on bacteria. Instead, we live on something much more unusual: REVIEWS for a certain wonderful story called the Colored Egg Mystery. HINT HINT! Save the arthropods!

A/N #2: If you are forced to go running to the dictionary, keep this in mind: it's Sarah's fault!

It was another dreary day, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves once again in Potions class. At least it was only Potions and not Double Potions, meaning that Harry only had to endure half the normal amount of bickering. Still, this wasn't very reassuring.

"Hermione, would you please stop biting my head off?"

"Ronald, I haven't even said anything yet!"

"Why don't you keep it that way for a change…hey! What's this?"

Ron picked up a green egg with white stripes that was lying next to his cauldron. "Happy Easter," it cheerfully proclaimed in black lettering.

"Hey, Harry, look at this! I found another egg!"

Harry swung himself around, nearly knocking over his cauldron. "Whoa. Okay, nothing spilled. Another egg?" he said with bewilderment, at the same time as… Malfoy.

Malfoy, however, had a look of shock on his face. He looked the way someone would look if they had toiled away for hours at a tiresome chore, then upon completing it, seen that all traces of their work had disappeared.

Harry retired to his dormitory earlier than usual that night, due to the fact that Wood had kept them at Quidditch practice for a torturous five hours, his worst practice yet. Harry immediately gave in to the beckonings of sleep.

He was flying… flying over the hills, chasing the Snitch. He kept soaring, past Hogwarts, into another town. He reached out and caught the Snitch, feeling the burst of exhilaration he always felt after such an event. In his preoccupation, he almost ran into an enormous, ill-kept house. This house seemed oddly familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

The dream changed… he found himself inside the house, standing in front of a door that was ajar. His curiosity began to get the better of him, and he silently snuck up to the door to see what was in the room beyond.

It appeared to be a kitchen, with an ancient stone floor and an enormous scrubbed wooden table in the center. A fire was crackling in the grate at the far end of the room. On the fire was a massive black cauldron. Harry was about to go in, but jumped back in alarm to see that there was already a man in the room. A sallow-skinned, hook-nosed man, with greasy black hair…

He was brewing a colorful potion, muttering some sort of incantation under his breath. Harry couldn't understand it, but knowing his Potions Master, it had to be something… evil. He thought it was something in another language, for he couldn't hear anything that sounded remotely like the spells he was used to.

Harry watched for a while, stunned. What was his most hated teacher of all time, Severus Snape, doing in the kitchen of the Riddle House? he asked himself.

And then he heard it.

The high, cold voice, the voice that made his hair stand on end, the voice that had uttered the words that killed his parents.

The voice… of Voldemort.

But the hated voice spoke the last words on earth Harry would have expected.

"You imbecile! Red #42, not Blue Lake!"

"Yes, Master…"

And in the corner, silently watching, stood a boy with white-blond hair.

Harry awoke with a start. "Now that gets all the points for being the weirdest dream I've ever had at Hogwarts, and that's saying something," he thought aloud. "What on earth is Blue Lake?"

Ron stirred in his sleep. "What's wrong, mate?" he yawned, "Bad dream?"

Harry looked at his watch, which showed him- he started again- that it was 1:23. He lay down in his bed again. "It wasn't that bad, just…. just strange. I'll tell you and Hermione about it at breakfast tomorrow. Go back to sleep."

Harry closed his eyes, and drifted into a much more peaceful slumber.

The next morning at breakfast, Harry held fast to his promise, and told Ron and Hermione about the peculiar dream. They didn't know what to make of it either. While they were mulling it over, Harry started listening to the conversation at the Staff Table while helping himself to some kippers. It was all perfectly innocent: Dumbledore was simply commenting on the scrumptiousness of the scrambled eggs. It was directly after the harmless remark that Harry noticed a strange occurrence, though Dumbledore did not: Snape, sitting to Dumbledore's left, choked and coughed into his pancakes.

Harry was busy being amused at this, when Ron suddenly spoke.

"Hermione, look at Malfoy!" he said.

"Hmm?" she said as she poured milk on her oatmeal. "Oh. He's just coughing, for goodness' sake."

"And Snape- Snape was coughing too…" Harry said slowly. He was beginning to put two and two together.

Hermione wasn't convinced. "So? It's just a coincidence. That's nothing to get excited over."

A/N #3: In case you didn't understand our hints, we'll give ourselves away now: hit the
"Go" button, and review our story! Please…!