Harry spent the better part of the next day working through a spell that the Twins had attempted to teach him (he hadn't told them the reason - even if they were the least likely Gryffs to start a full-scale war, it was still best not to push his luck). It was a spell for throwing your voice, and Harry Potter was in the mood to try it out later tonight. Well, if he could get it working, which was looking increasingly less likely. He muttered the spell to himself, and sent the sickly purple light blasting down the hall, where it stuck to a vambrace. Tentatively, he tried whispering something. Nobody seemed to notice, as a horde of Hufflepuffs tromped by.

Later, he thought, turning swiftly and descending the stairs towards the Charms classroom. Flitwick would probably not care if Harry was late, but he didn't want a reputation for being unkempt and untimely. He wanted a reputation as being a middling student who was moderately (though not excessively) diligent. The sort that no one would look at and say, "he wasn't trying hard enough." Harry Potter could push himself, thank you kindly, he just wasn't as interested as Granger was in grades. He'd know, one way or the other (he thought of the Slytherin students), whether he was in need of some more acceleration. Seeing the Charms classroom door start to shut, he put on some speed, reaching it and sliding inside just seconds before it signaled the start of class. Flitwick was clever like that.

Detention was quiet, Harry Potter thought, as he industriously got to work. Only five cauldrons this time, though Snape had only muttered, "Fifth years." Harry wondered if he could figure out a quicker way to clean the pots if he knew what was spilt in them, but then, after an eyeblink, decided that if cleaning was so easy, Snape would probably be doing it himself, and giving the students a different detention. Scrubbing was almost hypnotic, Harry thought, and though it wasn't his favorite activity, scrubbing long enough that the silverware would sparkle had been one of the better chores, truth be told.

Harry Potter was dismissed from the Potions Classroom early, again - Snape had not looked up, had not even seemed to acknowledge him. Apparently, Snape was satisfied that Harry Potter would work diligently at least. More likely, he was simply likely to terrorize Potter if his work hadn't been up to snuff. Asking to leave early was a privilege for those who worked with a will. Taking advantage of that would get you more detentions, from a strict chap like Snape, Harry was dead certain.

Harry Potter held his breath quietly, as he left, listening as he walked as softly as he could (which was without sound, on these cold stone floors). He heard the rustling, from two of the side corridors, and he bolted, straight ahead - right into the paths of their wands. And, an eyeblink later, right out of their paths. He heard shouts and angry hollers from both corridors, but he didn't take time to take stock. Instead, he turned right, quickly topping two suits of armor, hearing the pounding of unschooled feet behind him. Harry's feet landed with the quick grace of someone whose speed doesn't come at the expense of his quietude.

Around the dungeon he raced, toppling things with a clatter - and if a portrait or two decided to holler? Well, so much the better, Harry had thought.

Harry knew exactly where he was going. He was just going... the long way. Which both kept the Slytherins (he had marked two more this time) offbalance, and improved the odds of - that.

There was a loud boom, as the doors to the Potions Classroom slammed open. "Racing in the corridors, boys..." Snape drawled.

Harry froze into a nook in the wall, hoping that his dark clothes would hide him.

"You do realize that you're expected to clean up this mess?" Snape continued, and Harry tried to sketch exactly what he looked like in his mind.

Harry could almost hear the smile in Snape's voice, "Without magic, of course." Snape wasn't even looking for reasons for the fracas. He had simply given punishment, and then gone back to work.

As the three Slytherins worked at putting up the armors, Harry Potter left as silently as he dared. There were benefits to strictness, if you only knew how to turn it right. With luck, the Slytherins would be too ... to actually ask for their wands back, before the end of the night. Perhaps the twins could help him with that... Harry Potter shook his head, firmly. No, I'm going to do this myself. Even if it takes longer, it's the wiser course.

[a/n: Juuust another day at Hogwarts. Leave a review if you want more.]