A/N: Hello! It's the weekend again, so here's another chapter! Thank you so much to BrightWatcher, DS2010, and Louise Spinster Black for reveiwing!
Chapter Twelve: Caught in the Act
Just go to Dumbledore, go on. I don't even have to mention Harry's name…well, I do, if this is to have any point. It'll get him in trouble, but it'll be worth it in the long run. It's for his own good.
Draco suppressed a growl of frustration, unconsciously crushing the feather of yet another quill before he realised what he was doing and hastily stopped. Unfortunately, it was too late for the quill — the feather was beyond saving, and the balance of the quill was irrevocably destroyed — it was useless now. Draco huffed, annoyed with himself — this was the third quill this week. Inaction obviously didn't sit well with him. At least this quill hadn't been one of his precious art tools, like the last one…
"Er…Malfoy?"
Draco glanced up to see Daphne Greengrass standing in front of his table in the library, wearing a wary expression. He followed her cautious gaze to the ruined quill in his hand. Embarrassed that she had seen his loss of control, he almost snarled, "What do you want, Greengrass?"
Greengrass narrowed her pale eyes and folded her arms. "You really are a prick, aren't you?" she observed coolly.
"Congratulations for noticing. You want a prize for that?" he asked peevishly.
"Not at all. I just think I should have a few words with you about your behaviour."
"Oh, here we go." Draco rolled his eyes.
"Don't roll your eyes at me, Draco Malfoy," Greengrass commanded, somewhat surprising Draco with the force of her tone. He'd always assumed that she was a quiet type who didn't like conflict, given that she went out of her way to avoid him — but it seemed that she had quite a strong backbone when she wanted to show it. And right now, he could tell she was fed up with the way he'd been acting.
"You've always been a bit of a stuck-up arse, but this week you've been even more unbearable," said Greengrass. "Frankly, I don't care what you do or how you deal with whatever's your problem, but the teachers are starting to notice. And one thing I will not put up with is you dragging us through the mud."
"I'm not —"
"I'm not finished," she said icily, and he closed his mouth. "What you do reflects on all Slytherin. Your current attitude is going to lose us points, and I'm not the only one who's unhappy about it. You keep going like this, and you're going to be the reason Slytherin loses the House Cup for the first time in seven years. So — and I'm only going to say this once — get your act together, Malfoy, or I will make it my business to find out exactly what it is you're hiding and tell everyone about it."
Draco stared at her, shocked. "What I'm hiding?" he spluttered.
Greengrass scoffed. "I'm not stupid, Malfoy, I've been watching you. I've seen the little notes your owl brings you at breakfast, and I know you sneak out of the dungeons at night. Merlin knows what you do when you break curfew, but I can guarantee it's something you're not supposed to be doing."
Draco was starting to get rather alarmed now. Who knew Greengrass had been so observant? If he wasn't careful, between her, Zabini, and Pucey, his carefully crafted facade could be ruined. With some effort, he managed to recover his pureblood haughtiness.
"I think you're delusional, Greengrass. What would a Malfoy have to hide?"
"A lot of things, I'll bet," she replied calmly. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that half the wizarding world swears your family is Dark?"
For the second time in as many minutes, Draco was left gobsmacked by Greengrass's audacity and bluntness. This time she didn't give him a chance to recover.
"Just remember what I said, Malfoy. This House is bigger than your ego. If you lose us points, I'll make you regret it."
With that final warning, she departed, leaving a stunned Malfoy heir fretting over the sudden seeming fragility of his and Harry's deception.
Great. As if I didn't have enough to worry about already.
Draco didn't know which he should be more anxious about: the fact that Harry was apparently trying to get himself maimed by dragons and three-headed dogs, or Greengrass making good on her threat.
One thing was for certain, though: he wouldn't underestimate Greengrass again.
The day of the Shampoo Prank started with a dawn grey and cloudy enough to worry the Marauders. While a rainstorm wouldn't totally spoil their plans, Snape usually kept to the library or the Slytherin Common Room if the weather was unfavourable, and a great part of the fun they were anticipating was forming soap bubbles above his head in front of a maximum student audience and minimal teacher presence. The grounds were the best location that fit those criteria. Fortunately, by nine o'clock, the clouds had cleared, and the Marauders gleefully launched their plans.
On the way out of the Great Hall, James deliberately jostled Snape — who was still eating breakfast at the Slytherin table — and the open shampoo bottle in his hand 'accidentally' tipped, spilling copious amounts of Slimmer's Sublime Shampoo for Silky Locks on Snape's head. At the same time, James felt something cold trickle down his scalp, but after a quick pat revealed nothing amiss, he ignored it and smirked at Snape's incensed expression.
"Wash your hair, Snivellus," he jibed, inciting sniggers from his three friends.
"If you leave now, you'll have…" Sirius pretended to check his watch. "…thirteen minutes till Herbology starts."
"If that isn't long enough to get your hair clean — which, come to think, it might not be," snickered James, "you'll have to be late to class or walk around with shampoo on your head. What do you think, mates?"
"Leaving the shampoo in would give it more time to clean off all the oil," Remus said wisely.
Peter was giggling too hard to contribute any jibes, but he tugged on Sirius's robes and pointed at Lucius Malfoy — who was walking up the aisle, looking murderous — in warning.
"Ah, the Prefect Prince approaches," Sirius said flippantly.
"What a pity," sighed James. "I would love to chat with him, but we'll be late for Herbology if we stay."
Snape's hair was dripping with milky white shampoo, but he still managed an impressive sneer. "Surely even your sluggish group can crawl to the greenhouses in thirteen minutes."
"Sure could," James agreed, "if we didn't have to accompany Peter up to the dorm to fetch his book bag."
"So unfortunate that he forgot to bring it down with him," Remus lamented with a shake of his head while Peter vigorously nodded his (he really had left his book bag upstairs). "Otherwise we would certainly have stayed to speak to Malfoy. Do tell him that for us, won't you?"
"Bye!" Sirius said brightly, and they dashed out of the Hall just as Malfoy reached Snape.
"I take it they fell for it?" Lucius questioned.
Severus smirked, feeling his perfectly un-shampooed locks. "Hook, line, and sinker."
The first-year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs filed into the Charms classroom five minutes early. Flitwick was not yet back from his morning break, so there was plenty of chatting going on. Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as usual, normally kept an ear out for useful gossip, but he was not really paying attention today, occupied as he was by his dilemma. He still hadn't decided if he wanted to tell on Harry.
Pulling his textbook out of his bag, he was about to set it on his desk when he realised there was already a copy of The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) on the table. A glance inside revealed that it was Ronald Weasley's.
Of course, he would forget his textbook, Draco thought, rolling his eyes at the Weasel's inability to keep track of his possessions while shuddering at the thought of them using the same desk. He was actually a bit surprised that Weasley sat so close to the front of the classroom; he probably only did it to be close to Harry (who had been trained to pay close attention to his academics) and Granger (who would probably consider it a crime to sit anywhere but the front row).
"What are you doing, Malfoy?" Zabini asked in a bored tone of voice as Draco stood up, holding Weasley's book.
"Weasley left his textbook here." Draco's eyes had a naughty glint in them as he met Zabini's gaze. "Know any good hiding places?"
Theodore Nott snorted in amusement, and Zabini grinned appreciatively at his intent.
"The top of the cupboard should do nicely," the dark-skinned Slytherin suggested.
Draco eyed the ancient wooden furniture which looked as though it hadn't been touched in years, if the dust on it was any indication.
"Good idea," he agreed. Without hesitation, he dragged the nearest desk to the cupboard (Parkinson was only too willing to let him have it), climbed on top of it, and deposited the book on the roof of the cupboard. As he did so, a piece of parchment fluttered down to the floor, and he reached down to pick it up before moving Parkinson's desk back into place, ignoring the disapproving Hufflepuffs. One or two of the badgers seemed faintly amused by his prank, but most simply looked disgusted.
Feeling more entertained than previously, Draco settled back into his chair, turning the parchment over to read. All traces of his good humour vanished as he scanned the contents of what was obviously a letter (fortunately, no one seemed to notice).
By the time Flitwick entered the classroom, Draco's mind was made up. He would tell on Harry, and he would direct whichever teacher it was to the Astronomy Tower on Saturday night, when it would be impossible for the three miscreants to hide the baby dragon. Draco felt slightly guilty when he thought about the sure-to-be-hefty punishment his foster brother would face, but he pushed it out of his mind. Harry would get into an awful lot of trouble, no doubt, but he wouldn't be expelled — though he'd probably lose a boatload of points in addition to getting a nasty detention or three.
Maybe then he would think twice before breaking the rules.
Herbology classes, like Charms and Potions, were double-Housed, with each group holding the year-mates of two Houses in order to allow the professors to accommodate the sheer number of classes they had to teach in the limited lesson periods they had. The specific partnership between Houses for each of the three subjects was rotated every year. For the Marauders' year, Herbology was shared with the Slytherins.
It was with great glee that the four mischief-making Gryffindors trudged into Greenhouse Three, eager to see whether Snape had had time to wash his hair or not. Not that it would have mattered if he had — they had spelled the shampoo to be impossibly sudsy — but they were hoping he'd tried, because the more water he applied the greater the lather would become. To their disappointment, it seemed as though Snape had not bothered to attempt a cleansing, because the white film was still clinging to his hair, barely foamy.
"It's all right — nothing a quick bit of water won't solve," Sirius whispered to James, while eyeing the watering can in their corner.
"I hope you're whispering about the properties of Fluxweed, Mr. Black," Professor Sprout said from the front. "Seeing how you, Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin, and Mr. Pettigrew are five minutes late for class."
"Our sincerest apologies, Professor Sprout," Remus offered. "We were helping Peter look for his books." For, of course, the hapless Marauder had not only left, but completely misplaced, his book bag in Gryffindor Tower.
Professor Sprout peered at the blushing Peter with shrewd but kindly eyes. "All right, if one of you can name all thirteen properties of Fluxweed, I'll let it slide this time."
"Thirteen?" Sirius exclaimed. "I only know five." He glanced at his friends hopefully.
"Nine," James supplied. "Pete?"
"Two," Peter admitted.
"Well, I guess it's down to you, Remus," James said cheerily. "Shoot."
With the expression of one who had bailed his friends out in this manner many times before, Remus dutifully listed out twelve properties of the Fluxweed they were studying.
"And the thirteenth?" questioned Professor Sprout.
Remus grinned. "There isn't a thirteenth, Professor."
"Correct," affirmed Professor Sprout with a twinkle in her brown eyes.
"Professor Sprout!" Sirius gasped accusingly. "You gave us a trick question!"
"So I did." Sprout's eyebrows creased as she looked at James. "Potter, what have you put on your hair?"
"What?" James's hand automatically went up to comb through his messy mop, but he felt nothing. "I don't have anything on my hair, Professor."
More than one student snorted at this, and James noticed for the first time that most of his classmates were staring at his head. Evans was an exception, but James swore her lip was twitching. Even Snape's beady eyes were fixed on his hair — and worse, the git was smirking!
"If you say so, Potter." Deciding that quite enough time had been wasted already, Professor Sprout promptly put her class back to work trimming their Fluxweed.
James, however, was a bit concerned now. Turning to the other Marauders, he demanded in a harsh whisper, "What's on my hair?"
"Nothing, mate," Sirius replied, looking genuinely puzzled.
Peter cautiously ran his hand over James's scalp, and reported the same.
"What's everyone looking at, then?" James rubbed his fingers against his palm. "And why does my hand feel soapy?"
"Maybe you got some shampoo on it when you were pouring it on Snape," Remus proposed.
"Speaking of which…" Peter cast a glance at Snape, who had his head down as he carefully snipped dry leaves off his Fluxweed. "Why do you suppose no one's said anything about Snivellus's hair?"
"Mr.'s Pettigrew, Potter, Black, and Lupin — if I have to direct your attention back to Fluxweed one more time, I will be deducting points," Professor Sprout promised.
The Marauders' hands immediately flew to their Fluxweed pots and began trimming.
"They probably said everything they wanted to say at the beginning of class, when we weren't here," James surmised once Sprout had her head turned away to help a struggling Slytherin girl. "When we've trimmed enough Fluxweed, we can try some bubbles."
His fellow Marauders grinned.
Potions that Friday was…freakish, to say the least. Snape sneered and snapped at students as usual, but his acidic comments were not viciously targeted at specific people. That is to say, while he normally saved his most scornful remarks for a select few people — namely, Harry, Ron, and Neville, and Hermione on occasion — he seemed to be picking on everyone today. Even his Slytherins — with the exception of Draco — were receiving tongue lashings for things they did wrong. Crabbe and Goyle, especially, were given more than their share of the general Snape treatment — if words were swords, both of them would be dead several times over with the number of mistakes they were making. The Slytherins, of course, were properly horrified — but no one in Gryffindor could decide if Snape's newfound inclusiveness was better or worse than his normal malice. On one hand, while it was highly enjoyable to see the snakes suffering as much as the lions under their Potions Master's scathing tongue, it was quite terrifying to know that literally anyone could incur Snape's wrath today, and that the slightest thing might set him off — but on the other hand…it was Snape torturing Slytherins, a thing previously unheard of and thought to be nonexistent.
"Blimey," Ron breathed, his tone a combination of disbelieving glee and genuine trepidation as he watched Snape's lip curling in disgust at Pansy Parkinson's attempt at an antidote potion, before he proceeded to berate her for not crushing her bezoar finely enough. "This would be more entertaining if I weren't so petrified. What's got his robes in a twist?"
"I'm not sure I want to know," confessed Harry. His lips were barely moving and he wasn't even looking at Ron; his eyes were fixed firmly on the potion he was brewing, not wanting to give Snape any excuse to pick on him. He had only ever seen Severus this stroppy on two occasions — it usually only happened when the hook-nosed man had been severely angered — but it was more than enough to put the fear of God in him.
"Potter! Weasley! Do you brew with your mouths? Five points from Gryffindor!"
Harry and Ron both decided it was safer not to even look at Snape for the rest of the class, though Ron was fuming that Snape had yet again deducted points for an insignificant offence.
"Let it go," Harry mouthed at him when Snape wasn't looking. Ron's face expressed obvious discontent, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Today was not a day to test Snape.
When the bell rang, the first-years thankfully ducked out of the dungeon classroom. No one dared to flee outright as they felt like doing, but there was a definite rush to escape Snape's glowering eyes, resulting in a crowded doorway.
Naturally, Harry ended up pressed almost nose to nose with Draco as they waited for the students in front of them to move. They said nothing to each other, as befitted a Slytherin and Gryffindor at war — but before Draco hastily averted his gaze, Harry caught a flash of something unidentifiable in his foster brother's eyes. It was such an uncommon emotion in Draco's expression that the blond had loped away with his classmates ahead of Harry before the latter was able to place it.
Was that guilt he'd just seen on Draco's face?
Fluxweed proved to be rather difficult to prune, so it was nearly an hour into Herbology before the Marauders decided to take their trick on Snape further. They had spelled the contents of Sirius's shampoo bottle to react to any of their wands, and were looking forward to seeing what the effects would be.
"All right, let's see…" James had his wand out under the table while he surreptitiously glanced at Snape's head, bent over its current Fluxweed pot. "Bullesco."
All the Marauders eagerly watched the shampoo film on Snape's hair, and were disappointed when nothing happened.
"Are you sure you're doing it right?" Sirius demanded.
"Yes!" James hissed back.
"Try again," Remus suggested.
James was about to do just that when someone snickered. James turned to see Marlene McKinnon hastily averting her gaze, but unable to hide her mirthful smile.
"What, McKinnon?"
"Mr. Potter, while I can overlook a little bit of shampoo left in your hair, I draw the line at bubbles rising from your head," said Professor Sprout sternly. "Kindly hose down your hair outside the greenhouse and make sure all the suds are removed."
James gaped at her. "I…but what…I don't…"
"Now, Mr. Potter."
Totally bewildered, James obediently went outside and — though he still couldn't feel anything out of the ordinary on his hair — splashed water on his head until Professor Sprout was satisfied. When he returned to the class, his hair was soaked through and dripping copious amounts of water on his robes, but at least no one was looking at him strangely anymore.
Professor Sprout said nothing more about his hair, but more than one student still snuck amused glances at James, who didn't understand what was so hilarious about his wet head when there was a Slytherin dripping shampoo into his Fluxweed pot not five feet away.
After Herbology, the Marauders marched up to McKinnon and James demanded to know what had been so funny. At his indignant tone, Marlene finally lost what self-restraint she had and burst out giggling.
"I'm sorry, Potter…but…your hair…"
"I realise it probably looks like a soaked crow's nest right now, but I'm talking about during Herbology, before Sprout made me half-drown myself. Why exactly was everyone staring at me like they were trying not to laugh?"
"Why, the shampoo, of course!" McKinnon sounded genuinely surprised that he had not caught on. "Wasn't that part of your prank?"
"It was, but it seems to be working on the wrong person," Remus whispered to his friends. McKinnon did not notice — she had gone off into another fit of laughter.
"And my word, the bubbles!"
"Something is clearly off here, James," Sirius decided. "No one paid any attention to Snivellus's hair, but they somehow saw shampoo on your head when there wasn't any…"
"Did any of you actually see bubbles coming off my head?"
"Not a one," Peter confirmed. "To be honest, I was wondering whether Professor Sprout might have been seeing things — the number of times she made you rinse…"
"But we all agree that I definitely spilled the shampoo on Snivellus, right?" James checked.
"Definitely," concurred Sirius.
"No argument there," said Peter.
"And we agree that Snivellus is currently walking around with shampoo on his greasy head?"
"Yes," said Remus.
"So, we'll try again," James decided. "Even if there was shampoo on my hair, it's all gone now."
"Okay," Peter agreed readily.
Sirius nodded.
Remus looked less certain, but he chipped in, "Let's not do it in class, at least. We don't need another professor making James wash his hair if it happens again."
"Why wait till class?" asked Sirius. "It's morning break now; let's go find Snivellus!"
Grinning lightly, he took off, followed by his three friends.
Saturday morning proved to be a wet, stormy one. Hogwarts students awoke to the sound of steady rain, howling winds, and cracking thunder. Even Oliver Wood yielded to a force more potent than his desire to win the Quidditch Cup and cancelled practice for the day — to the delighted relief of his teammates, who had feared that their fanatic captain might make them run flying drills in the impossible gale.
"Of course, you can be sure he's going to replace it on another day," Alicia Spinnet said when they heard the news. "But I'd rather make up an extra practice than fly in that."
Since there was no practice, Harry took the opportunity to join Hermione in the library with his books to get a head start on his assignments. Ron, not wanting to be left alone, reluctantly brought his own Charms homework, reasoning that it was better to have three heads than one.
Inevitably, their spirited argument about the right way to direct a Fire-Making Spell (Ron advocated a simplistic point-and-shoot approach, while Hermione insisted on moderating the strength behind the jab, and Harry tried and failed to convince them both that they were talking about the same method but simply couldn't find the words to express it in vocabulary the other could understand) eventually turned into a discussion about their planned nighttime excursion.
"I still say I should come along tonight," declared Hermione.
"Hermione, we've been over this," Ron said patiently. "The Cloak's only big enough to fit two people, since it has to cover Norbert too — and since it's Harry's Cloak, Harry has to be one of them."
"And why can't I be the other one?"
"Because I'm the other one."
Hermione looked at him like she thought he was denser than the rocks at the bottom of the Great Lake. "I'm still waiting to hear a reason why it can't be me and not you under the Cloak with Harry."
"We just don't want you to get into trouble if we're caught, Hermione," Harry interjected before Ron could put his foot in his mouth again. He thought he'd said the right thing, but his supposedly soothing explanation only made the witch turn on him.
"You're not supposed to get into trouble, that's the point," she hissed. "If we're going to do this without getting ourselves expelled, I need to be there to make sure you don't get caught!"
"I have snuck out after curfew before, you know," said Harry.
"Indeed. Remind me again who caught you last time? Oh, right — the Headmaster!"
"I didn't get in trouble, did I? And I did manage to avoid the others. Filch and Quirrell and Mrs. Norris…"
"And Snape," Ron added with a shudder.
"And Snape," Harry agreed. "Especially Snape."
"Besides, Hermione," said Ron, wondering why he hadn't thought of this reasoning earlier, "Charlie's my brother. It'd be a bit weird if two people he's never met before pop up at the top of Hogwarts to fob a baby dragon on him."
Grudgingly, Hermione conceded the point. Ron, pleased to have won the argument, grinned at Harry as he reached into his bag to take out his Charms textbook. The grin slid off his face as he felt around the bag.
"Oh, don't tell me…"
"What is it, Ron?" asked Harry.
The redhead was now crouched on the floor of the library, turning his bag upside down and scattering books, parchment, and quills everywhere, much to Hermione's disapproval.
"Oh, come on!"
"What, Ron?" demanded Hermione.
"My Charms book is missing!"
"What do you mean, missing?"
This time Ron looked at her as if her brains had taken a sudden vacation. "I mean it's not here!"
"Did you leave it in the dorm?" Harry suggested.
"I don't take my schoolbooks out in the dorm, Harry!"
"Okay, calm down." Harry was a bit alarmed by how panicky Ron was being. "You wrote your name in it, didn't you? I'm sure it'll turn up."
"How do you lose a textbook?" Hermione demanded.
"Forget the textbook for now, that's not important —" Ron ignored Hermione's indignant squeak. "— but I put the letter from Charlie in it!"
"You did what!" Harry exclaimed, earning a ferocious glare and a forceful "Shush!" from Madam Pince.
"If anyone opens that book and finds that letter…" Hermione trailed off, her expression one of trepidation.
"We'll never finish serving our detentions," Harry finished grimly.
"I'm sorry!" Ron groaned. "I thought it would be safe there — my textbooks hardly ever leave my bag…"
"That's right — except in class," Harry realised suddenly. "Ron, you haven't done any homework this week, have you? You wouldn't have taken your Charms book out for anything except Charms class…"
"Yes, I did have it with me during Thursday's class," said Ron, anticipating Hermione's question. "I must have left it in the Charms classroom."
Harry, far from being reassured that they knew where the book had been lost, was only more dismayed. "And who has Charms after us on Thursdays?"
"The Slytherins," Hermione whispered in horror. "Malfoy."
There was a silent moment of dread as the realisation sank in.
"What do we do now?" asked Ron, who had gone rather pale.
Harry sighed heavily. "We continue with the plan."
"What?" exclaimed Hermione. "Harry —"
"We don't have a choice, Hermione. We asked Charlie to come. We promised Hagrid we'd take care of it. We can't not show up. Not only would it be unfair to Charlie, but it wouldn't solve anything. Hagrid would still have Norbert and we'd still be in trouble — all Malfoy has to do is show the letter to any professor and we'd all be in detention before we can say 'dragon'."
"You mean I'll be in detention," said Ron. "Neither of you are mentioned in the letter."
"Like anybody would believe the two of us weren't also involved," Hermione scoffed. She seemed to have accepted that the dragon delivery had to go on, but she was still full of anxiety. "Harry, one way or another we're going to get into trouble. You realise that, right?"
"I know. But if we can manage to get Norbert away before getting caught, I think we'll get in marginally less trouble."
Hermione was sceptical. "How do you figure that?"
"I see it as a sort of an 'end justifies the means' situation. If the teachers see that everything worked out well in the end, even if they think we didn't go about it the right way, they might be less inclined to kill us. Not much less, mind you — just a bit."
Hermione's expression was one of dismay — clearly she'd hoped Harry knew something she didn't. "You're grasping at straws, Harry."
"Doesn't matter," Ron interjected determinedly. "I'll take 'a bit'. Harry's right — we have to go through with it. But Hermione, you're not going to be with us on the exchange — we'll keep your name out of it, no one has to know you were even involved — your record will still be spotless…"
"That's sweet, Ron, but if McGonagall asks me directly I'm not going to lie — I'd get into even more trouble if she ever found out…"
"Regardless," Harry interrupted, "Ron and I still have to take Norbert to Charlie tonight. We'll be invisible, so we shouldn't get caught — and once Norbert's gone, we could pretend that Hagrid came across the egg by accident and never intended to keep him."
"You think the teachers'll buy that?" asked Ron.
"We can hope, I suppose." Hermione sounded almost resigned now. "Like we can hope Malfoy didn't find the letter."
Or that he'll change his mind about telling, thought Harry, but he didn't say it out loud.
The Marauders found Snape conversing with Evans not too far from a knot of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws (who, not being from either of their own Houses, were less likely to say something disparaging than those from Gryffindor or Slytherin). James, already developing a not-so-mild crush on Evans, could not fail to notice the way her genuine smile made her red hair more vibrant and her green eyes sparkle — and he wondered for the umpteenth time what she saw in that greasy Slytherin git. What did Snivellus have that he didn't?
"Look," Peter pointed out. "He's still got shampoo all over his hair."
"Still no lather, though," Sirius noted. "You'd think he'd use break to try and get rid of it, wouldn't you?"
"I'm surprised he hasn't tried to wash it off yet," Remus agreed with a light frown. "I wonder why?"
James shrugged; he wasn't about to try to figure out how Snivellus's mind worked. "Doesn't matter. Let's get some bubbles, yeah?"
"Okay." Sirius grinned and pulled out his wand. "Ready?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Bullesco."
Like before, all four Marauders watched Snape's head in anticipation. Once again, however, absolutely nothing happened.
"What the hell?" James exclaimed in frustration.
"This doesn't make any sense," Sirius muttered in similar confusion.
"Uh…don't look now, guys," Peter spoke up, "but those badgers and eagles are pointing our way, and…they're laughing."
Startled, the other Marauders whipped their heads around. Sure enough, the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw group were sniggering in their direction, clearly finding something extremely amusing about them.
James scowled darkly in their direction. "Do I have nonexistent shampoo on my hair again?"
"Hardly, Potter," drawled a terribly familiar voice as the sniggers became full blown laughter. James glared at Snape as the latter approached with Evans. "Entertaining as the sight was, Professor Sprout unfortunately made you wash all the shampoo off during Herbology."
"Then what the hell is so funny?" hissed James. Evans was looking thoroughly entertained, her eyes dancing with mirth — but the smirk on her face was too Slytherin for his liking. Snape was obviously a bad influence on her.
"Yeah, Snivellus," Sirius chipped in, always willing to back up his best mate. He cast a quick look around; the giggling of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had attracted more students, and all of them were staring and chuckling at the Marauders — it was quite irritating. "Care to explain why every student seems to be laughing at James here when they should be laughing at you and your shampooed head?"
That appeared to be too much for Evans, who snorted before bursting out into a peal of giggles — which only annoyed James even more.
"No one's laughing at Potter, Black," Snape informed him lazily. "They're laughing at you."
"Me?" Sirius spluttered. "Why on earth would they be laughing at me for?"
Snape actually cracked an evil grin. "Perhaps they, like me, find the bow-shaped bubbles resting on your head remarkably apt."
And with that, Snape and Evans went on their way, leaving a bemused quartet attempting to puzzle out why everyone seemed to think they, and not Snape, were the shampooed ones.
At a quarter to eleven that night, Harry and Ron snuck out to Hagrid's hut to collect Norbert. The big gamekeeper had carefully packed the Norwegian Ridgeback into a crate so large that Harry worried about it fitting under the Invisibility Cloak and Ron wondered how on earth they would carry it all the way up to the Astronomy Tower.
"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," Hagrid said, sounding close to tears. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."
"It's okay, Hagrid," Harry said soothingly. "Norbert will be fine."
"Yeh be careful with him, all righ'?" Hagrid sniffed morosely.
"I promise," Harry said solemnly.
Ron, meanwhile, was eyeing the crate warily, clearly not keen about picking up something that had violent ripping sounds coming from inside it. "D'you reckon I can cast a Levitation Charm on the crate?"
"Good idea, Ron," Harry agreed. "But we'll still have to hold it to make sure it doesn't float away."
Ron sighed, but dutifully withdrew his wand. "Wingardium Leviosa."
It took some reshuffling under the Cloak, but eventually they just about managed to cover themselves and the crate.
"Bye bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed. "Mummy will never forget you!"
Even with the Levitation Charm on the crate, it took Harry and Ron the better part of an hour to make their way back to the castle and up the Astronomy Tower. By the time they reached the last flight of stairs, it was five minutes to midnight, and both boys were huffing and panting.
Then they received the shock of their life.
Up ahead of them, in the middle of the final staircase they had to climb, was Professor McGonagall, looking very grim in her tartan dressing gown and hairnet. Next to her was Draco Malfoy, looking anxiously down the stairs as if he could will a dragon and three first-year students into existence to prove his claim to the angry professor.
"Well, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall was asking, sounding most displeased. "It is almost midnight. I see no sign of either Harry Potter or a dragon."
"I'm sure he's coming, Professor — I told you, I heard —"
"Yes, Malfoy, I am aware that you are gullible enough to believe a cock-and-bull story about a dragon," said McGonagall scathingly, "— something Potter was no doubt counting on to get you in trouble. As if three first-years could hope to smuggle a baby dragon out of the Astronomy Tower without attracting attention! It's quite obvious that Potter intended you to hear his fabricated tale."
"But the letter, Professor!" Malfoy protested.
"Use your common sense, Malfoy! The so-called 'letter' from Charlie Weasley was no doubt planted to make you believe this rubbish even more."
"But —"
McGonagall cut him off, finally having had enough. "Detention, Mr. Malfoy! And fifty points from Slytherin for insisting on dragging me up here in the middle of the night on a fool's errand! I shall see Professor Snape about you!" She grabbed his arm and pulled him down the stairs, narrowly missing bumping into the invisible Gryffindors, who flattened themselves against the wall to avoid her.
Harry and Ron didn't say anything until they'd hauled Norbert's crate up the last stair. However, once they'd thrown off the Cloak, Ron turned to Harry with the biggest grin he'd ever seen.
"That was brilliant! McGonagall didn't even believe the letter, and Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"
"Don't," Harry advised him. He himself was of two minds about the situation. He was relieved and glad that they weren't in trouble, but on the other hand, he was sorry Draco was. And he was worried about what Professor Snape would do. The Head of Slytherin, knowing the truth of Harry and Draco's relationship, would not believe that Harry had deliberately invented the dragon story to get Draco in trouble. Snape was far more likely to take Charlie's letter at face value, and then it would only take the slightest bit of investigating to find out the truth. Once Snape knew what had really happened…Harry shuddered. The consequences — which could range from a brutal lecture from the Potions Master and additional (albeit private) detentions to a severe punishment if and when Lucius and Narcissa were told — would not be pleasant.
Harry tried not to let his glum mood show as they waited for Charlie to show up. Ron might be in the clear, but Harry was in for a world of trouble.
When Sirius walked into Transfiguration class and was promptly ordered out and told not to come back until his hair was 'completely dry and clean of shampoo' by Professor McGonagall, the Marauders' suspicions were all but confirmed.
Somehow, they were the ones who had been pranked today.
And the prank didn't end when Sirius had washed his hair, either. Both Remus and Peter also had to endure being called out by teachers for shampoo in their hair, and only when they had each thoroughly rinsed their respective heads did things finally go back to normal. By dinnertime, they could sort of see the funny side of it, and could even have admitted that it was a trick well played if they weren't sure that Snape had had something to do with it. As it was, all four were rather disgruntled, because — although they had determined that the shampoo on Snape's hair had been nothing but an illusion visible only to them — despite their best efforts, none of them could figure out how the shampoo had kept moving from one person to another and why everyone but the four of them could see it. Sirius, in fact, was so annoyed at this that he threw out his entire batch of Slimmer's Sublime Shampoo for Silky Locks and switched his shampoo brand to Miracle Lather instead.
Lily, Severus, and Lucius, on the other hand, knew exactly what they had done, and all three had had a thoroughly enjoyable day that they would remember for a long time.
The Shampoo Prank itself went down in the unwritten annals of Hogwarts history as one of the very few times that the Marauders were the victims rather than the creators of a prank. Although most students strongly suspected that both Severus and Lily were behind it, Lucius's involvement was never, ever considered. Nevertheless, everyone (and secretly even the teachers) fondly remembered the day when the Marauders were beaten at their own game.
Charlie Weasley arrived by broomstick sharp at midnight, accompanied by three friends who all worked with him at the dragon sanctuary in Romania.
"Hello, Ron!" Charlie greeted his brother cheerily. "How are you?"
"Pretty good," Ron replied, still on a high from witnessing Malfoy get detention. "But I'd feel better once this dragon's away from school." He nudged the crate next to him.
"Got it," Charlie chuckled knowingly. He glanced at Harry in curiosity. "Who's this, then?"
"Oh, right — Charlie, this is my best mate, Harry Potter. Harry, this is my brother Charlie."
To his credit, Charlie didn't bat an eye as he shook Harry's hand — and neither did his friends, though they whispered excitedly amongst themselves for a bit. Harry was relieved that none of them made a big deal about meeting him.
"Right," said Charlie, "I'm sure you two need to get back to Gryffindor Tower ASAP, so let's do this quickly and quietly, yeah? Matt, open the crate."
"Er…are you sure that's a good idea?" Harry asked warily as the tall, dark-skinned wizard undid the latches.
Charlie laughed. "Trust me, Harry, we're professionals. Jack, you've got the chicken?"
"Right here," said Jack, a blond man with a tattoo of a dragon (of course) curling around his entire upper arm. He was carrying what looked to be half a chicken.
"Jack, I'm opening the crate," Matt warned.
"Go for it," said Jack.
Matt flipped the lid on the crate and Jack chucked the chicken in. Norbert gobbled it up in seconds, and then proceeded to curl up and snore.
"Sleeping potion," Charlie informed the awed first-years. "Specially formulated for dragons."
Harry and Ron watched in fascination as the adult wizards effortlessly buckled Norbert safely into a special harness that would suspend the sleeping dragon between their four broomsticks. As soon as they were done, Harry and Ron shook hands with them all and said heartfelt thank-yous.
"It's no problem," Charlie said easily as he mounted his broom. "Actually, I'm more impressed that you managed to talk Hagrid into giving him up. He's wanted a dragon for as long as I can remember. Ron, make sure you write home more often — Ginny gets lonely. Harry, nice to meet you. Take care, you two."
They flew off into the night, and finally…finally…Norbert was gone. With light hearts, Harry and Ron slipped down the spiral staircase, congratulating themselves on a job well done.
Unfortunately, in all the excitement, they had both forgotten that they'd left the Invisibility Cloak at the top of the tower. Thus, they had no way of escaping the nasty surprise that was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs.
"Well, well, well," said Argus Filch as Mrs. Norris purred beside him. "We are in trouble."
A/N: See you all next week! I look forward to your reviews in the meantime!