Launching Ships, Chapter Five

"Forge, I just had the best idea!"

Fred looked up. "Yes?" he replied, only a little annoyed. He'd been working on a the spellwork for a candy that would allow you to be able to turn into your potential animagus form, whether or not you had one, for an hour and then allow you to safely turn back, safely being the main issue at the moment.

"Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange," was all George said, and Fred forgot all about the animagus candies and everything else.

"But where would we get Fenrir's hair?" he asked, after thinking about it for a moment. "I'm not going near him, and if we try to get someone else to do it they'd either refuse or trick us."

"We wouldn't need to get Fenrir's hair; it would be better if we got Bella's anyway. 'Cause if we make Fenrir fall in love with Bellatrix, she'll probably hex him to death, if her husband doesn't, and then we'd have one less cannibalistic werewolf to worry about."

"Getting Bellatrix's hair won't be any easier," Fred protested.

George grinned widely. "Bellatrix went to Hogwarts."

"And?"

"All we have to do is say accio Bellatrix Black's hair, like we did when we were trying to get Tonks' hair for that chameleon caramel we were working on. Or we could sneak into the hospital wing and take a drop of blood from Madame Pomfrey's files."

Fred stared at him. "What?! Do you know how dangerous that would be?! If we mess up, some random witch will have Fenrir Grayback chasing after her. And even if we don't, Madame Pomfrey would kill us for breaking into her office!"

"Do you have any better ideas then? I'm just brainstorming..."

"Well, what did you do to get Lucius Malfoy's hair?"

"I already tried that," George said sheepishly. "She somehow figured out how to ward herself against house elves; I think it's Black family magic. I haven't figured out how she did it yet."

"House elves?! I should have thought of that!"

George winced, his secret having been found out. "Well, anyway, I can't use Dobby to get some of her hair, and I don't want the homicidal bitch to have a chance to hurt him, anyway. So we're going to have to try it some other way. The only other thing I can think of is asking Snape to try to snag some of her hair, and I don't want her to kill him, either."

"Maybe he could try to convince her that he needs some of her hair for a potion?" Fred asked. George shook his head.

"She thinks he's a traitor, remember? She's not going to let him have anything that could be used against her, and I'm not sure what excuse Snape would have to make a potion for her anyway. Well, I mean, besides healing potions and torture potions and whatnot, but I highly doubt that she uses torture potions on herself, so why would they need to contain her hair?"

"Yeah, good point. So we're back to the first two plans?"

George sighed. "Yeah, I guess. Guess we start here. Accio Bellatrix Black's hair!"

Nothing happened. The twins walked a little further down the corridor and tried again. Nothing. They took a leisurely walk through the whole castle, repeating the spell at regular intervals as they walked. No strands of frizzy black hair appeared. At last, after two hours, when the portraits were tittering about their lack of success and it was almost time for dinner, Fred finally lowered his wand. "Let's give it up," he said dejectedly. "She probably used some sort of spell to make sure that she didn't leave any hair around so that no one could use it in dark potions."

"Yeah. Or maybe it's just all gone, you know; it's been years and the house elves'd probably have cleaned it all up by now. Heck, they'd probably have done that for everyone; I mean, you don't want wizards to be able to impersonate muggleborns who wouldn't know their rights, and you wouldn't want wizards making golemns and voodoo dolls and whatnot when you weren't looking."

Fred huffed a long sigh. "Shoot, we should have thought of that."

"Eh, well, what did it cost us, really?"

"Two hours out of our lives!"

The two of them began strolling back through the castle, meandering back towards the Great Hall so that they could have dinner. At dinner, they found Lee Jordan (sitting at the Ravenclaw table with his new girlfriend) and very quickly told him that they had something planned, and needed his help. It wouldn't have been good had they had to elaborate, what with the illicit plans they had made, but fortunately Lee agreed to meet them in the abandoned Wand Making classroom on the fourth floor after hours.

And so, fourteen minutes after curfew, the three boys found themselves in said classroom, with at least ten different silencing and invisibility wards, and two notice-me-nots, discussing the situation. Lee was incredulous.

"You want me to what now?"

"Cause a distraction; a big one. And somehow distract Madame Pomfrey."

"How on earth would I do that?"

"Hex a bunch of 'Puffs and 'Claws with harmless but annoying prank jinxes, including sticking them to the wall. Then she would have to come to them."

"But what if she just calls a prefect or another teacher or something?"

"Thestral crap; didn't think of that. George, what do you think?"

"We've got to try something. This is too good an idea to waste."

"What idea would that be, Mssrs. Weasley?"

Three heads whipped around, and Lee gulped hard. It was Snape. And they were out, in an empty classroom, planning a prank, after curfew.

"Trying to figure out how to get Bellatrix's hair, sir," said Fred immediately, stifling the urge to add: "and how in Merlin's name did you find us?" Snape was, after all, a spy and probably part bat; he no doubt knew how to break every kind of concealing ward under the sun. Which begged the question how had they managed to stay undisturbed all the times they had hid here before. He paused a moment, then added "or her blood, if that's easier." George tried to hush him, but Fred ignored him, figuring that if they were going to get in trouble anyway, he might as well tell the truth. For all he knew, Snape might actually have an idea.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Twenty points for being out after curfew. Each. Do I want to know?"

"Probably not, sir, but we're hoping you could help," George chipped in, finally realizing what Fred was trying to do.

"George!" Lee hissed.

"Help? What makes you think that I would have any interest in furthering your imbecilic pursuit?" Despite the harshness of the words, Fred could tell that Snape was interested, and trying to hide it. He grinned.

"Maybe the fact that I can get a hold of a basilisk liver for you? And maybe a limblet?" He added, knowing that those (vestigial limbs that could be found on very old or mummified basilisks) were a very expensive, rare, and valuable Potions parts.

Snape made a rather interesting sound that might have been a sob in a lesser man. "a limblet?!"

"Yeah. It's a really big old snake."

"Right." Snape hesitated for a long time, looking as if he was struggling with himself, and then finally sighed. "I...if you will allow me to work with basilisk limblets, I swear to Merlin that I will be your...accomplice for the rest of the year. P-please..."

That last sound sounded rather rusty, as though he had not had occasion to say it for years. Actually, that was probably true, if uncharitable.

"Totally. That is...do you two agree?" he added, looking at his shell-shocked companions.

"H-how did you get a hold of limblets?" George asked, at last.

"Now that would be telling," Fred responded with a grin. "So do you agree we should take Professor Snape's offer?"

"Why not? He's a damn good potioneer and he has an "in" with the Death Eaters, which could be helpful if we want to slip dear old Moldy a love potion."

A very light pink dusted Snape's face at hearing these words; dear Merlin, was he imperiused?

And within an hour, another magical contract had been written up on a piece of leftover parchment:

We, Fred Fabian Weasley, George Gideon Weasley, Lee Harper Jordan, and Severus Tobias Snape, do swear to uphold the following arrangement as long as following it will not do harm to us or anyone who has not harmed us (directly or indirectly). The agreement itself is as follows: in return for one of the two limblets of Salazar Slytherin's basilisk and its liver, and a pledge not to use our inventions against him in perpetuity, Severus Snape will tacitly help us with our love potion sneak attacks against various loyal Death Eaters and His Moldiness himself, keep confidence about our pranks before they happen unless they are going to hurt an innocent (that means no telling the other heads of houses or Dumbledore), and help us with brewing complicated potions.

The consequences of breaking this contract made in magic are as follows, and all lasting a month: anything Severus wears will turn into Gryffindor drag, with golden feathers and sequins, everything Fred eats will taste like custard pie, George will be forced to break it off with Angela, just for a month, and Lee Jordan's pet tarantula will have to be sent home.

"Do you want to add anything, sir?" Lee asked, handing Snape the paper.

Snape read it through. "I hope you know that I reserve the right to discipline you for your pranks, and for bribing a teacher."

All three Gryffindors blanched, and a smirk worked it's way over Professor Snape's face. "Detention tomorrow," he said calmly. "You should have thought to add an injunction against that." He paused. "Besides, then there will be fewer questions asked as to why you are in my office when you could be swiping sweets and butterbeer from the kitchens."

The boys relaxed a little. "So...you will help us then?"

"Certainly. You will be scrubbing cauldrons, though."

The moans of disappointment must have carried all the way to Zimbabwe.