Set scene: Middletown Middle School, lunch hour. Amid the usual chaos of eating (mixing strawberry milk and potato chips), talking (shouting), and general 13-year-old shenanigans, there sat a dark-haired figure hunched over at the end of a table. She was preoccupied with a notebook, seemingly in her own little world. Her sparkly purple pencil danced frantically over the pages.

Dear Diary,
The first day back from spring hols is already terrible! Mrs. Anderson just assigned us a ton of math hw about functions or something which are probs really useless, and then in english I have to write a essay on what I did over the hols. But like I did pretty much nothing so what am I supposed to write now? I can't even eat lunch now cuz of all the stress.
But also since I can't stop worrying about Mr. Prince's ❤️ class. Ugh, easter break did not break my crush on him! It sucks h

"Hey Rhema, do you—"

I slam my diary shut. "Ah! Nicole! You scared me!"

"Oh, sorry!" Nicole apologized. Then she gave me a thoughtful look. "Er...were you writing about Mr. Prince again?" she asked, tugging on the ends of her sleeves.

I stuffed my diary in the deepest pocket of my backpack. "If I were, why would I tell you? You'd just lecture me about it, and I already get enough lecturing from my parents, thank you very much."

As I hurried away, Nicole ran a bit to catch up to me. "Hey, don't you storm off on me! You know I lecture you only because I'm your friend!"

I huffed. "I don't see why you have to have to make such a big deal about it. It's-it's just a stupid schoolgirl crush. It's not like I'm hitting on your boyfriend."

"But it's still Mr. Prince! Don't you remember agreeing he was the meanest teacher to exist ever?" Nicole paused. "You used to like nice guys, Rhema. What happened to Jacob?"

I laughed, amusement suddenly winning over annoyance with my friend. "I liked Jacob in 6th grade, silly. We're in 8th grade now; I'm way over him. So don't even think of setting us up, you," I said in a mock warning.

"I guess some things aren't meant to be," she lamented dramatically. "I still don't understand why you like Mr. Prince though."

"Who can understand all the mysteries of the heart?" I said loftily. "I definitely don't."

We giggled as we entered the classroom, earning us an scary look from Mr. Prince. Mr. Prince had the unique ability to make a room full of middle schoolers sound like a funeral progression. So we quickly quieted down—in front of him, at least. As soon as he looked back down at his desk, we continued our conversation, hoping the noise from the hallway would cover our talking.

"I mean, not to be mean, but he's not even that, er, attractive," whispered Nicole as we sat down. "he's kinda got a big nose, and his hair..."

"Is gorgeous," I sighed. "It looks so fine and soft and dark, though not as dark as his eyes. Oh, I could look at—"

"Miss Thomas," rung Mr. Prince's voice, paralyzing me with panic. "There will be no chattering in my classroom. See me after class."

I stared wide-eyed at him, then peered at Nicole, who looked at me worriedly. I knew we were thinking the same thing; he heard me talking, but did he hear what I was talking about?

Thankfully, the bell rung, distracting me from my dilemma as class started.

"Harry, really! The Mission: Impossible theme wasn't even funny the first time!"

"Er, I thought it was funny, 'Mione."

"And since when did you know about Mission: Impossible, Ron?

The redhead threw a cheeky grin at his wife, whose eyes were sparkling with mirth despite her furrowed brows and tightly-pressed lips. "Harry took me to see it at that moving theater, remember? Or is that big brain of yours finally broken?"

"It's movie theater, you blockhead, and my brain is perfectly fine!"

Harry Potter, who was in continual disbelief that his best friends had managed to stay together for more than 4 days, much less get married, stifled a sigh as he hissed, "Hey, I'll stop humming if it mean you two will keep your marital problems to yourselves."

Hermione and Ron simultaneously turned their heads toward the-boy-who-lived-twice, argument forgotten.

"Mate," Ron said, bemused, "you do remember that we like fighting, right?"

"Oh, whatever," replied Harry. He could still not wrap his head around the idea of liking chaos and conflict. "You guys need to stay quiet anyway. We're on a stealth mission, remember?"

"Oh really? Then why were you humming the Mission: Impossible theme?" retorted Hermione.

"She's got a point, you know," agreed Ron readily.

"You guys are the ones who are impossible," muttered Harry, not bothering to hide the huge smile on his face. It was just like old times; the three of them, sneaking around, trying to solve some mystery. The only difference was their lives weren't at stake, but Harry was very much fine with that

The Auror office had gotten a lead that Snape was spotted here, at Middletown middle school in the middle of nowhere middle America. However, there were a multitude of other similar reported Snape sightings which turned out to be false leads. The Wizarding World's eagerness to find the dead man was most likely caused by the fact Snape's body was never found, as well as the general intrigue Snape generated. People do forget, though, and the number of reported sightings did eventually go down over the years. In fact, seeing the Middletown lead had surprised Harry a bit.

Intellectually, Harry knew this one wasn't any more likely to be true than the others. However, he simply couldn't put it out of his mind. Maybe the pull was just caused by the fact he so desperately sought closure to the war, to his parents, and to Severus Snape himself. But on the other hand, Harry was told he had excellent instincts.

The three of them slinked around the perimeter of the middle school, Harry in his invisibility cloak and Ron and Hermione under a disillusionment spell. At 25, the three of them were a little to big to all fit under one cloak. (They, uh, had tried.)

"How likely do you reckon it is that he's actually here?" Harry said conversationally as he glanced inside a window. Nope, no Snape.

Ron snorted "Knowing how much the git (Harry glared)—I mean Snape—enjoyed teaching us, I'd be surprised if he came within 100 kilometers of this place."

"Heh, yeah, agreed. What do you think, 'Mione?" No reply. "Hermione?"

Harry turned around, and was surprised and slightly panicked to see Hermione was no longer under her disillusionment charm. Instead, she was standing still as ice, holding in front of her a long chain with a clock face or something similar-looking suspended at end: their magical-signature detector.

She jolted her head back up, gaped at each of the boys, and said, "Ron, Harry, I think there might be a chance...Severus Snape is actually here."