Snips and Scars In Which a Better Mousetrap is Built, a harry potter fanfic

Chapter 35, everyone! Yes, it LIVES! Honestly didn't realize it had been a year since I updated I am so sorry. OTL

Moving on…can't guarantee any speed in updates but I am focusing on my active fics this month so we'll see how this goes. At the very least, I have the rest of Year 3 plotted, so it's just a matter of writing it down.

In other news, Snips has his suspicions about certain professors that he feels compelled to share. And since Sirius Black isn't constantly in the news thanks to being a Good Boi™, student attentions must needs be diverted elsewhere. Fortunately, Dumbledore has a plan for that.

The bit about the Wolfsbane required me delving into the HP wiki, but that was fun anyway. Also the boys are corrupting Neville oops. And we know, Ron….The bit with Madame Hooch and the Silver Arrow was written from memory—I remember really loving that bit from the book and pretending one of our broomsticks was a Silver Arrow. Fun times...

TroyWeb, thanks for the review! Oh yes that will be very messy….

Thanks for the review, guest! I will—progress has just been slow as of late, but I will never abandon a story.

Thanks for the review, guest (same guest?)! No, I won't be abandoning a story—it might get put on indefinite hiatus, but if I post a story it's with the plan to finish it. As for the rest of your questions…how much Snips properly remembers is up in the air, as if it's reversable (currently no one knows what he even is). As for why he doesn't seek help from Dumbledore…while Snips doesn't remember details, he does remember impressions, and his impressions of Dumbledore are…let's go with complicated.

Harry's progress with the Patronus Charm had still stalled, to his frustration. The simple fact of the matter was, he didn't have a happy enough memory. Yes he was aware that was a problem.

So he planned on maybe faking it, make up a happy memory to see if that would work. Unfortunately, Professor Lupin was out sick. Again. People were debating on whether it was a sickly constitution or the DADA curse at it again.

"What do you think?" Harry asked Snips while they were in the library. Snips yeeked, flew off—flew back and chittered at Harry before flying off again. Harry followed, confused—

"Oh this is the magical creatures section," he observed—found Snips hanging off the spine of a book. "This one?"

Snips yeeked again, prompting Harry to take the book back to where they had been sitting—watch as Snips flipped through the book, blink in surprise when Snips finally found what he was looking for.

"Werewolves?" Harry asked. Snips nodded. "What next—there's vampires, isn't there. Vampires exist."

Yes they did, as a quick paging through the book showed—why did this shock him there had been Wandering with Werewolves and Voyages with Vampires on their school list last year…oh yeah, Lockhart, that's why.

Harry didn't really suspect Professor Lupin of being a werewolf, though—that was kind of a strange thing to accuse a person of anyway—even though if you were of a suspicious bent a lot of the symptoms fit.

The fact that it was a full moon didn't help matters.

"So I'm just going to pass on accusing the teacher of being a werewolf, if it's all the same to you," he told Snips the next morning. "That just kind of seems rude."

Snips growled in frustration and refused to talk to him for the rest of the day.

Pettigrew continued to evade capture as much as Sirius Black, who had not been sighted in several months now. People and newspaper articles were starting to speculate that he had skipped town, and Fudge was bragging that he saw the security around his quarry and decided against it.

This had prompted another wave of angry letters demanding the dementors be removed from Hogwarts.

But in more local news, Dumbledore had apparently decided upon a new approach insofar as capturing Pettigrew was concerned.

Basically: announcing at dinner one night that—since there was an appalling lack of secret events for the school to puzzle out (for which he apologized and promised to do better next year), he was going to propose a challenge of building a better mousetrap.

"You see, there is a very special rat that we're looking to capture alive," Dumbledore said (Ron became very interested in his potatoes). "Hence the competition—although of course, if you catch any sort of rat that would be beneficial." Whoever caught Pettigrew won, although Dumbledore reasoned that at the end of it all Filch would be who won, since this would cut into his rat problem.

A good chunk of the rest of the month saw students in the library pouring over runes or spells and constructing their mousetraps, occasionally running up to the headmaster's office to ask for some clarification. By week two there was a sign outside the great hall which updated whenever some additional clarification had been elicited, such as:

Every rat caught was worth ten points

The rat in question was worth 150 points and ended the competition

Whoever got the most points won

Yes the rats would be humanely sourced

Yes you were allowed to improve upon your initial design

It was the sort of thing where if you didn't know just why the teachers wanted a specific rat caught, it was strange, but since Dumbledore was the one who announced it everyone just chalked it up to his usual eccentricities. Plus it gave them something to focus on besides Dementors.

The Ancient Runes class really latched onto this plan, making up different Runic sequences to try to get their mousetrap (or rattrap) working better—Terrence Nils actually hit upon a sequence that he ended up calling the 'Pied Piper' sequence, which necessitated him building a bigger mousetrap. And yes, Filch was happy with this outcome.

But the fact that Dumbledore had yet to announce an end to the competition after several weeks had Harry distracted and concerned—which Professor Lupin noticed.

"Harry, you have to be focused if you want this to work," Professor Lupin told him. "I'm focused on this competition too, but you can't let it distract you right now."

"Right, sorry," Harry said, trying to scrape together some composite fakery that would let him get a proper Patronus—Ron and Hermione getting along properly again? His parents' killer getting caught? Never having to go back to the Dursleys?

Actually, that one might work.

I'm never returning to the Dursleys, he told himself, readying his wand. I'm living in Diagon Alley and living my best life.

It didn't feel like a particularly happy thought though—more like something he was desperate to make true. Maybe something else….

Finally decided to just flat-out lie.

I've already done it, so I can do it. Just. Do it.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry bellowed, pinning himself behind his conviction—at this point getting it right would be his happiest thought—just picture it—

Something big and silver slammed into the boggart-turned-Dementor and sent it scurrying back into the trunk.

Professor Lupin seemed torn between baffled and excited.

"That was it, Harry, that was exactly it!" he said, shaking Harry's shoulders a little. "So what was it that did it?"

Ah. "I just…told myself I could do it," he said, shrugging. "Because if I could do it, then I'd be really happy….I know that's kind of weird but…it worked?"

Professor Lupin sighed, shook his head. "That won't work long-term, I'm afraid—for it to properly work it has to be a happy thought, not just you lying to yourself. But good work for getting something."

Well it wouldn't work now, not with that taking the wind out of his sails. Try to keep the scowl off his face as he nibbled at the chocolate Professor Lupin gave him.

"Question, Harry," Professor Lupin said. "And you don't have to answer if this makes you uncomfortable but…that just showed me that you have the magic for it. So why is the happy memory the part giving you trouble?"

Harry considered it, decided to counter with a question. "What does your Patronus look like, if you don't mind me asking?"

Professor Lupin shrugged. "That can be a little personal at times, Harry, since it can reveal a lot about a person."

Harry blinked. "How? I mean it's like…a mist or a ball of light, right?"

"Ah. Remember how I told you a Patronus acts as a guardian of sorts? When done properly, it summons something fully formed—a corporeal Patronus—to protect you." Got out his wand, cast the spell—

A silvery white wolf bounded about the room before coming to stand in front of Harry.

"Wicked," he gasped, trying to touch it—the consistency was between fog and water, but dry and possessing of a sort of pleasant tingly feeling. He could actually believe this thing ran on happy thoughts.

"And advanced—they can also carry messages in this form," Professor Lupin explained. "But again, we're talking well above your grade level—I'm not being facetious when I'm telling you that producing that mist is good work on your part. From this point on it's just a point of practice and finding that happy thought."

Harry watched as the wolf faded away, leaving the room dimmer and kind of sadder without it. "What was your happy thought, sir?"

Professor Lupin seemed to be in more of a mind to share this time. "Your parents' wedding," he said, sitting down, eyes distant with nostalgia. "Your father and I were friends throughout our schooling, and your mother was one of the kindest people I knew. And—well, our little group of friends were pranksters, somewhat along the line of the Weasley twins. The speeches had so. Many. Puns."

Which led to what Harry suspected was the secondary reason for continuing the lessons, and which Harry didn't object to at all—hearing more about his parents, this time from a family friend instead of a teacher. It ended with him heading back to his dorm with that same warm feeling inside, like that Patronus wolf had curled up in his chest.

"Maybe I can do it better now," he told Snips, who just gave him a beady-eyed glare. "What? Oh wait, the Professor Lupin is a werewolf theory."

Ron tweaked back his curtains. "Say what?"

"Snips—" This with a point (that had to quickly dodge a nip) at Snips. "Thinks Professor Lupin is a werewolf. That's why he keeps missing classes."

"Rubbish," Ron said. "They'd never let a werewolf teach at a school—it's too dangerous."

"I wouldn't know."

Ron took it upon himself to explain the basics—that lycanthropy was contagious, that one bite from a werewolf on a full moon would turn you into one, that werewolves weren't all there when they turned, that being alive to be turned was honestly rare—

"It's not the person's fault, it's just—how it happens," Ron said. "There's this one awful bloke though, Fenrir Greyback—he likes being mean and nasty even during the rest of the month, actually targets children. No one's been able to catch him, though."

Harry shuddered. "That guy is loose but Sirius Black is the one who causes the hullabaloo?"

Ron considered it, shrugged. "Well…there's more than one werewolf, even if Greyback is a level of horrible most people don't ascribe to. Sirius Black did the impossible."

Harry hummed pensively at that—took note of Snips dragging over a piece of paper he had written on. Take it, read it—

"'Wolfsbane'?" he read. "What is that?"

"Guess I know how we're spending our Saturday," Ron sighed.

Harry actually decided to head off spending the day in the library by consulting who he thought might know something about it first. And who wouldn't also bite off his head for interrupting their study session.

"I mean, that's a specific variation of monkshood or aconite," Neville said. "And both of those are used in potions…maybe it's a potion ingredient?"

Which led to their next resource.

"You might be thinking more along the lines of the wolfsbane potion, my dear boy," Professor Slughorn said when asked. "Invented by my good friend Damocles Belby—his nephew, Marcus Belby, is currently attending Hogwarts, did you know that? Pity the two don't talk, Damocles is absolutely brilliant—"

"Sir," Harry interrupted politely—if not headed off Slughorn would ramble on about former students all day. "What is the wolfsbane potion? I mean what does it do?"

"What does it do?" Slughorn echoed. "Why, lessens the effect of lycanthropy, of course!"

All three boys were very interested in hearing about this—apparently this was a desperately tricky potion to get right ("It's the aconite, you know, highly poisonous") and it made the nasty parts of the transformation hurt less.

"Very dangerous, very expensive," Slughorn said. "Now, there's this one witch I know who's working on making it more affordable—werewolves having a hard time holding down steady jobs, you know—"

They had drunk a couple of carafes of tea and had gone through a few trays of biscuits by the time Slughorn finally exhausted the topic.

"Now if you don't mind me asking, boys," Slughorn finished, like the thought had just occurred to him. "Why are you asking me?"

"Oh," Harry noised. "Um—"

"Reading up on different strands of monkshood?" Neville tried.

Fortunately, Slughorn bought that.

"Nice save," Ron said once they were gone and safely out of earshot, giving Neville a fist bump.

"That does stink about how expensive that potion is," Harry said. "And nothing about being a werewolf sounds good."

"Well, that's why it's called a disease instead of super happy fun time," Ron pointed out. "Diseases aren't supposed to be fun—that's why they're diseases."

Harry felt like that was a fair point—started at a sharp bark—

Turned to see Snuffles bounding up the hall to them.

"You know Filch gets mad at you for shedding in the castle," Harry told the dog—which prompted him to sit down and scratch behind an ear.

"Ah, so you're good for something," Professor McGonagall said, coming up behind Snuffles. "Mr. Potter, I have good news."

"Is it related to the broomstick you're holding?" Harry asked hopefully, eyes only for the Firebolt.

"Yes, fortunately—after extensive testing, we've agreed the broom is safe to use and has not been tampered with." She held it out. "I've already informed Wood, you're expected on the Quidditch pitch."

Harry felt that hugging Professor McGonagall would probably be too much, settled for hugging the broom instead. "Thank you, Professor!"

"You're welcome—now go, all of you!" she said, shooing them away. "And take the dog with you!"

"BORF!" Snuffles barked.

Despite Professor Lupin saying that broomsticks weren't happy enough memories, Harry had the feeling the Firebolt's first test run would contest that. Everyone from Madame Hooch down was thrilled to death at it, Madame Hooch having a long reminisce on how the Silver Arrows were built similar to the Firebolts, a pity they stopped making them.

For Harry, flying the broom was a dream come true. It responded to the slightest touch and whim and flew beautifully—the only way he could think to have more control over his own flight would have been to sprout wings himself.

Yes, it was very good, and a very good day, only sullied by Ron sticking his head in Hermione's study corner that night and informing her that NO, Sirius Black had NOT hexed Harry's new broom.

Privately, Harry thought Ron had kind of asked for the copy of Hogwarts, A History to his head.