Author's note: As promised, here is the relatively-lengthy next chapter. I hope that you enjoy it. Please review!

Warnings: Swearing

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I referenced pages 208-213 of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban while writing this chapter.

Childhood Relics

The next week brought the next Hogsmeade weekend. Severus always enjoyed the resulting quiet, although his joy was inhibited when he remembered that Potter and Longbottom would be staying behind this time. It was further inhibited when, as he stood on the staircase, he heard Longbottom's voice exclaim, "Harry! I forgot you weren't going to Hogsmeade either!"

He followed the sound of conversation up to the third floor, where he found Potter and Longbottom parked in front of the statue of a one-eyed witch.

"…don't understand that thing about the garlic at all," Longbottom was saying as Severus approached, "do they have to eat it, or-" He broke off with a small gasp.

"And what are you two doing here?" Severus asked, coming to a halt and eyeing each of the boys suspiciously. "An odd place to meet." His gaze flickered to the doorways on either side, and then to the statue.

"We're not—meeting here," Potter said quickly. "We just—met here."

Another incredible defence, thought Severus derisively. Aloud he said, "Indeed? You have a habit of turning up in unexpected places, Potter, and you are rarely there for no reason… I suggest the pair of you return to the Gryffindor Tower, where you belong."

As they set off without another word, Severus turned to examine the statue. He ran a hand over it. Surely, there was more to this than met the eye. But he had work to do and a disturbance-free window in which to do it. He would come back later.

It was unusual for a child to return early from a visit to Hogsmeade, except for when they'd had a massive quarrel with their friends—or seen Harry Potter's disembodied head, as had reportedly happened to Draco, who burst into the Slytherin Head's office and babbled at record speed until Severus managed to calm him down. When Draco was comprehensible and the story was out, he was hardly surprised; as he'd suspected, Potter had not been merely loitering in the hall earlier.

After promising Draco he would deal with the situation—"I'm writing to Father about this," was the boy's parting remark—he made his way back to the third floor, deciding that by the one-eyed witch was the most likely place for Potter to return to.

He reached the third floor just in time to see that he was right, Potter jumping out from behind the statue. Face sweaty and hands muddy, he looked like a deer in the headlights when he saw Severus.

"So." Severus suppressed the urge to flash Potter a triumphant, malicious smile. Although Potter's arrogance never failed to infuriate him—there was a mass murderer after him, and he thought he could do however he pleased, against the better judgement of his elders—he still took great pleasure in catching Potter out at mischief.

Potter shoved his hands in his pockets, as though he thought Severus hadn't already mentally constructed an itemized list of incriminating evidence. He had survived a stint as a double agent, and he hadn't done it with an inability to make flash observations.

"Come with me, Potter."

He led the boy down the stairs to the dungeons and then into his office. The only sounds were that of their footsteps and the rustling of Potter trying to discreetly wipe his hands on the inside of his robes. Severus's hearing was also impeccable.

"Sit. Mister Malfoy has just been to see me with a strange story, Potter."

Potter silently stared at his lap as the Potions Master towered over him.

"He tells me that he was up by the Shrieking Shack when he ran into Weasley—apparently alone." Severus paused to allow for a response. There was none. "Mister Malfoy states that he was standing talking to Weasley, when a large amount of mud hit him on the back of the head. How do you think that could have happened?"

Potter arranged his face in a faux-surprised look as he replied, "I don't know, Professor."

"Mister Malfoy then saw an extraordinary apparition. Can you imagine what it might have been, Potter?"

"No."

"It was your head, Potter. Floating in mid-air."

Severus could practically see the gears turning in Potter's small brain as he tried to think up some way to get out of this.

"Maybe he'd better go to Madam Pomfrey," said Potter at last, after a long silence. "If he's seeing things like-"

"What would your head be doing in Hogsmeade, Potter?" Severus interrupted softly. "Your head is not allowed in Hogsmeade. No part of your body has permission to be in Hogsmeade."

With or without an invisibility cloak, damn Dumbledore.

"I know that. It sounds like Malfoy's having hallucin-"

"Malfoy is not having hallucinations." Severus bent down, a hand on each arm of Potter's chair, so that their faces were a foot apart. "If your head was in Hogsmeade, so was the rest of you."

"I've been up in the Gryffindor Tower. Like you told-"

"Can anyone confirm that?"

As Potter looked back at him with guilt in his eyes, Severus allowed the corners of his lips to curl up. Ha.

"So," he said, straightening again. "Everyone from the Minister for Magic downwards has been trying to keep famous Harry Potter safe from Sirius Black. But famous Harry Potter is a law unto himself. Let the ordinary people worry about his safety! Famous Harry Potter goes where he wants to, with no thought for the consequences.

"How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter," he continued. "He, too, was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch pitch made him think he was cut above the rest of us. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers… the resemblance between you is uncanny."

"My dad didn't strut," Potter blurted, as if he actually knew what James had been like. "And nor do I."

"Your father didn't set much store by the rules, either. Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners his head was so swollen-"

"Shut up!"

Potter was suddenly on his feet, rage written across his face, and Severus froze as his own rage swelled up.

"What did you just say to me, Potter?"

"I told you to shut up about my dad!" The brat's face turned red as he shouted. "I know the truth, all right? He saved your life! Dumbledore told me! You wouldn't even be here if it weren't for my dad!"

This gave Severus a pause. He tried to beat down the horrified feeling that suddenly made itself known in the pit of his stomach. Whatever Potter knew about his past, it was entirely too much, and all thanks to that meddling old bastard of a Headmaster. He would be having some choice words with Dumbledore later.

"And did the Headmaster tell you the circumstances in which your father saved my life?" Severus whispered. "Or did he consider the details to unpleasant for precious Potter's delicate ears?"

Potter bit his lip. It seemed that the answer was no.

"I would hate you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter. Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you: your saintly"—Severus spat out the adjective with as much vitriol as possible—"father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't got cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts."

Along with Black and Lupin, and probably Pettigrew, of course, but even with all the bitterness of the past fresh on his mind, Severus did not think it a good idea to mention Lupin while the wolf was on faculty and could complain to Dumbledore if Potter began asking questions. He had little desire to hear more lacklustre placations.

"Turn out your pockets, Potter," Severus ordered, suddenly changing the topic. "Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the Headmaster! Pull them out, Potter!"

Slowly, Potter pulled out a bag plastered with the Zonko's logo, and a folded-up piece of parchment. Severus picked up the bag of prank items and dangled it in the air between him and the Gryffindor.

"Ron gave them to me," said Potter. "He brought them back from Hogsmeade last time-"

Really, the boy was a dreadful liar.

"Indeed? And you've been carrying them round ever since? How very touching… and what is this?" He set down the bag and exchanged it for the other item.

Potter shrugged. "Spare bit of parchment."

"Surely you don't need such a very old piece of parchment?" Severus said, turning it over. "Why don't I just throw this away?"

His hand moved towards the fire, provoking a loud, "No!"

"So! Is this another treasured gift from Mister Weasley? Or is it—something else? A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink? Or—instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the Dementors? Let me see, let me see," he muttered, taking out his wand and smoothing the page out on his desk. "Reveal your secret!"

Nothing happened.

"Show yourself!"

It stayed blank.

Frustrated, Severus hit it with his wand, causing a loud tapping sound as the tip impacted the desk underneath. "Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!"

As though an invisible hand was writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface.

Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.

Severus froze. Even Potter looked dumbstruck. But it didn't stop there. More writing was appearing beneath the first.

Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.

Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a Professor.

Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.

Severus had not seen or heard those nicknames in a very long time. There was only one way Potter could have procured the object. In that moment, his fury somehow increased. He strode across to the fire, seized a fistful of glittering Floo powder from a jar on the mantelpiece, and threw it into the flames.

"Lupin!" he yelled. "I want a word!"

Seconds later, the wolf was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes.

"You called, Severus?" he said in that mild, infuriating way of his. Severus wanted to hex the innocent look right off the other man's face.

"I certainly did. I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this."

He pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on Lupin's face.

"Well?"

Lupin's expression was unreadable, but his lack of response spoke volumes to Severus. It said that the Defence professor knew exactly what the parchment was, it being a relic from his and his blasted friends' days as a student.

"Well?" said Severus again. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?"

Truth be told, he could sense no Darkness in the object, but it seemed like a reasonable excuse to call Lupin with Potter still present.

"Full of Dark Magic?" Lupin repeated. "Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who tries to read it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop-"

"Indeed? You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?"

To his displeasure, Lupin was a better actor than Potter and did a good job of playing dumb.

"You mean, from Mister Wormtail or one of these people? Harry, do you know any of these men?"

"No," Potter said quickly.

"You see, Severus? It looks like a Zonko product to me-"

At that moment, Weasley came bursting into the office. He was completely out of breath, and stopped just short of Severus's desk, clutching a stitch in his chest and trying to speak.

"I—gave—Harry—that—stuff," he choked. "Bought—it—in—Zonko's—ages—ago…"

"Well!" said Lupin, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. "That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" He folded the paper and tucked it inside his robes. "Harry, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay. Excuse us, Severus."

Severus watched as the three exited in quick succession, grinding his teeth together. Then he, too, left the room, picking up his pace as he headed in the direction of Dumbledore's office. It was time for those choice words.