A Past Reclaimed by nuw255
Chapter Notes: You knew there was a prank coming. And if you didn’t, you should have.
At breakfast the following morning, Harry sat pondering creative ways to make Draco Malfoy’s life miserable. He fully recognized that his desire for revenge on the blonde Slytherin was rather juvenile, but that didn’t matter to him at the moment. What mattered was the fact that Malfoy was responsible for yesterday’s fiasco with Professor Snape.
Snape. He was another matter entirely. Harry felt his blood start to boil at the mere thought of the man after what he had tried to do. He quickly reined in his anger; he had promised to put it all behind him, and he intended to keep that promise. But there was only so much a person could be expected to take. If Snape did anything to aggravate the strained truce between them - and that was sure to happen, sooner or later - Harry would be ready to remind him of what was and was not appropriate behavior for a Hogwarts Professor.
“You all right over there, mate?” Ron’s voice pulled Harry from his thoughts with a start.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”
“What about?” Hermione asked. “You were miles away, and you didn’t look too happy.”
Harry smiled ruefully at her. “Sorry. Just thinking about Snape and Malfoy. Plotting revenge, you know.”
Ron grinned at him, while Hermione’s expression vacillated between amusement and indignation.
“Any good ideas?” Ginny asked. Harry turned to look at her and found her bright brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “Normally I don’t let things get to me, but what happened yesterday was a bit much. Even you have to admit that, Hermione.”
“Well,” Hermione began hesitantly. “I can’t deny that Malfoy is insufferable-”
“He’s a git, Hermione; just say it!” Ron interrupted.
“Fine,” Hermione amended as she shot Ron a playful glare. “Malfoy is an insufferable git.”
Ron grinned broadly at her.
“I really don’t think you should go doing things to him and Professor Snape, though,” Hermione continued in a worried voice. “Neither of them is worth the effort, and I don’t even want to think about what would happen to you if Professor Snape caught you trying to prank him.”
“First of all, I won’t get caught,” Harry replied. “And second-”
He broke off at the sound of a strangled yell coming from the staff table. Looking up, he quickly located its source: Professor Snape was half-standing, his hands braced against the table in front of him and his goblet overturned on the floor. He shuddered and for a moment it looked like he was going to retch. Then his hair started getting shorter and less greasy. His stature shrank a couple of inches, his long nose suddenly wasn’t so long, and a lightning bolt scar appeared on his forehead. The Great Hall fell into complete silence.
The moment the transformation was complete, a brown barn owl swooped in through the window and dropped a small hand-held mirror and a scrap of parchment onto the table in front of Snape. He scowled as he stared into the mirror for a long moment, squinting in disbelief at his reflection.
“Oh, please,” Harry muttered. “My eyesight’s not that bad.”
“Severus,” Dumbledore called with a hint of amusement in his voice, “I believe these may help.” He conjured a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, identical to Harry’s, and sent them down the table to his transformed Potions Master. Snape’s scowl deepened, but he put them on and glanced quickly at the parchment before looking back into the mirror.
“Potter,” he whispered viciously. The Great Hall was still so silent that his voice carried all the way to the end of the Gryffindor table where Harry and his friends sat. Harry braced himself for the explosion that was sure to come any second now.
Snape stormed away from the staff table, heading directly for Harry and his friends, with Professor McGonagall hot on his heels. Harry stood up to meet them.
“You’ll be expelled for this, Potter,” Snape hissed. “I’ll see to that myself.” Harry had to fight not to laugh at the sight of those words coming out of his own mouth.
“Empty threats, Professor,” Harry replied coolly, once again contemptuously exaggerating the man’s title. “I wasn’t involved in your- er- transformation.”
“This is Polyjuice Potion, Potter,” said Snape, and Harry was amazed to see his lip curling in exactly the same manner as it always did. The expression looked extremely strange on Harry’s face, and he immediately decided it didn’t suit him at all. “Even you should know that this particular potion requires part of the person you are planning to change into. That means a part of you was used to make it.”
“Yes,” Harry said unconcernedly. “It would certainly be difficult for someone to snatch a stray hair off of my robes or my pillow, or pick up one of my fingernail clippings, wouldn’t it?”
“Severus,” McGonagall said quietly, laying a hand on Snape’s shoulder. “There is no proof that Potter was involved, and you are making a scene. If you do happen to find any actual proof, please take it to the Headmaster; otherwise, stop this now!”
The two Harrys glared at each other for a long moment, identical green eyes glittering behind identical wire-rimmed glasses, before one stormed out of the Hall, his black robes billowing behind him, and the other dropped back into his seat at the Gryffindor table. As soon as the large doors leading into the Entrance Hall slammed shut, the entire student body exploded in conversation. The only exceptions were Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson, who shot to their feet and hurried out of the Great Hall after their Head of House.
“That was brilliant!” Ron exclaimed.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have loved to help,” Ginny said accusingly.
“I can’t believe you would do something like that, Harry,” Hermione huffed.
“It wasn’t me,” Harry cried.
“You mean you didn’t get Dobby or one of the other house-elves to slip Polyjuice Potion into Professor Snape’s drink?” Hermione asked. Her eyes were narrowed accusingly, and Harry was sure she would have been using Legilimency on him if she had known how to do it.
“No,” Harry insisted. “Thanks for the idea, though.” Hermione reached across the table to swat him on the arm.
“You really weren’t a part of that?” Ron asked quietly.
Harry shook his head. “I think I know who did it, though,” he whispered just loud enough for his friends to hear.
“Who?” Ginny demanded.
“Peeves and Mr. Moony,” Harry answered as a slow smile spread across his face. “Remember when Remus promised to help Peeves do a prank on Snape? Who else could pull off something like that?”
“True,” Ron replied, grinning broadly once again. “That was pure genius.”
Hermione shot him a withering look. “This is bad, Ron. Now Professor Snape thinks Harry’s responsible.”
“He knows there’s no way I could’ve slipped anything into his pumpkin juice, Hermione,” Harry said patiently. “If he chooses to blame me anyway, I’ll just have to follow through on what I told him yesterday.”
Ron and Ginny grinned in agreement, while Hermione’s eyes widened in shock and she opened her mouth to begin a lecture on having proper respect for teachers.
“Well, I’d best be going,” Harry announced before she could get started. “I’ll see you later.” He stood up and hurried toward the Entrance Hall, calling over his shoulder, “You should get to class soon too, you know.” It was a stupid thing to say, as it was still so early that the morning post hadn’t even arrived yet, but he wanted to say something to make his sudden departure sound a little more credible.
As he exited the Great Hall, Harry nearly collided with Pansy Parkinson, who was hurrying back inside with a particularly disgusted expression on her face. Ignoring her, he slipped out through the large doors and into the Entrance Hall.
Harry was so thankful to have escaped Hermione’s lecture that he almost didn’t notice the rather large girl who was standing a short distance down the corridor. Her face was buried in her hands, and her shoulders shook with silent sobs. Instinctively, he took a few steps toward her, wondering if he might be able to help cheer her up, but he stopped abruptly when he realized that the crying girl was Millicent Bulstrode. He had seen her and Pansy Parkinson hurrying after Snape just a few minutes ago, and she had seemed perfectly fine then. He quickly decided that either Pansy or Snape must have said something particularly foul to her when they caught up with him. Perhaps both of them had.
It’s too bad Malfoy wasn’t the one to go after him, Harry mused. This would have been the perfect opportunity to get back at him. At this thought, something clicked in Harry’s brain, and he started digging through his bag for an empty potion vial. As he uncapped it, he took a quick look around to verify that he and Millicent were still alone; then he pointed a cautious finger at her face and spoke in his mind.
Accio tear! A tiny water droplet sailed through the air toward Harry and landed neatly in the little glass vial. Millicent didn’t seem to notice.
Accio tear! Harry repeated in his mind. Another teardrop flew into the vial.
Accio tear! The final silent spell worked perfectly, and Harry quickly capped his vial and slipped back into the Great Hall.
“Back so soon?” Hermione asked as he sat back down in the seat he had hurriedly vacated barely a minute earlier.
“What? Oh, er-” Not one good excuse for his hasty departure and return came to mind, and he finally had to admit that the truth really was the best option.
“Sorry, Hermione,” he muttered, hanging his head. “It’s just, you had that ‘I’m about to lecture you’ look on your face, and I couldn’t deal with it just then so I ran off.” He glanced up to see an amused smile forming on Hermione’s lips.
“Are you afraid of me, Harry?” she asked evenly.
“Should I be?” he asked in return.
“Yes,” Ron and Ginny answered before Hermione got the chance.
“Well, when it comes to lectures, anyway,” Ron amended.
“I still think you should just let this go, Harry,” Hermione said, ignoring the others’ comments. “Professor Dumbledore knows about the situation now. Things will be different.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Hermione,” Harry replied in a low whisper, “but Dumbledore knew Voldemort was after my parents, he knew how the Dursleys treated me growing up, he knew Umbridge was a threat even after she left Hogwarts, and he’s known about my situation with both Snape and Malfoy since first year.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Nobody respects Dumbledore more than I do, but the fact is that no matter how great he is, he can’t be everywhere at once and protect everybody from everything. Sometimes we’ve got to look out for ourselves.”
“And by that you mean pulling childish pranks on teachers?” Hermione demanded fiercely.
“Who said anything about pranks?” Harry asked. “All I said was that I was plotting revenge. I’m not out to embarrass anybody, Hermione. Okay, maybe I am out to embarrass Malfoy, but not Snape. Believe it or not, I just want to make sure he doesn’t try anything else. If he does, annoying but totally unexplainable things are going to start happening in his classroom. He’ll know it’s me, but he won’t be able to prove it. If that doesn’t get the point across, then I’ll just have to get harsher and harsher with him until he finally learns.”
“And who are you to decide when a professor needs to be taught a lesson?”
“I’m somebody who’s sick and tired of his rubbish,” Harry shot back. “I’m somebody who’s paying him to teach me about potions. We all are - or our parents are. Don’t forget that. And we’re not paying good money because we want Snape to be able attack and belittle us whenever it strikes his fancy.”
“He’s got a point there, Hermione,” Ron agreed. “I mean, it’d be different if Snape was just being a git while he did his job, but yesterday went way beyond that. It’s not like Harry’s trying to get special treatment or anything; he’s just trying to make sure he and Ginny don’t get attacked during class!”
Hermione sighed. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me when this all goes wrong, and don’t you dare expect me to help with whatever it is you’re planning.”
“Don’t worry,” Harry grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of involving you unless you asked me to.”
“Good,” she replied, still looking irritated. Further conversation was halted by the arrival of the morning post. Harry watched in surprise as owl after owl deposited letters in front of Ginny.
“Getting fan mail?” Ron asked in a teasing voice as she reached out to pick up one of the letters.
“Wait!” Hermione exclaimed, grabbing Ginny’s hand to prevent her from touching any of the envelopes. “After that article yesterday, these are probably all cursed. Don’t touch them until I’ve checked them out first. I learned a special charm for this back in fourth year after I opened that letter full of undiluted bubotuber pus.” She drew her wand and began Levitating all of the letters into a neat row as three red Howlers dropped onto the center of the table. They all exploded at once, filling the Great Hall with a cacophony of incomprehensible shouting.
Hermione shook her head in disgust as she began waving her wand over each envelope in a complicated pattern. The first three letters glowed red, but the fourth glowed blue. She snatched up the fourth letter and continued testing the rest of them. They all glowed red except for the last one, which glowed a yellowish-green color, and she sighed as the Howlers finally stopped screaming and faded into little piles of ashes.
“This one’s clean,” she said, handing the envelope that had glowed blue to Ginny. “The rest all have one curse or another in them, except for that one-” she pointed out the envelope that had glowed yellowish-green, “-which has some sort of a mild poison. Nothing strong enough to kill or anything,” she added hastily as she saw the looks of concern on her friends’ faces. “It would probably only make you sick, but still.... Well, I’ll just gather all of these up and take them to Professor McGonagall. Maybe she can find a way to prosecute these people for trying to attack a student.” She stood and conjured a small bag, and then Levitated all of the dangerous letters into it and hurried up to the staff table.
“Who’s that letter from?” Harry asked when he saw Ginny reading the one safe letter.
“Mum,” she answered. “She’s just saying that she feels really bad about the article, and not to worry about what the family thinks because they all know what really happened.” She grinned. “She also says to let her know if anybody writes to give me a hard time, and she’ll ‘straighten them out.’”
“Too bad Hermione already took all those letters,” Ron laughed. “I’d love to see what Mum would do the gits that sent them.”
“If I get any more, I’ll be sure to write down the senders’ names before turning them in,” Ginny agreed. “Oh, she also says she’s going to ‘have a little chat’ with Matilda Johansen.” Ron burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Harry asked.
“You still don’t know what Mum means when she says she’s going to ‘have a little chat’ with somebody?” Ron asked in surprise. When Harry shook his head, he just shrugged and said, “Let’s just say you don’t ever want to ‘have a little chat’ with Mum.”
“Mum’s ‘little chats’ usually involve a lot more wand work than actual talking,” Ginny elaborated with an amused smile. Harry chuckled at the thought of Mrs. Weasley hexing the living daylights out of the reporter who had slandered her daughter.
“Do you think she’ll involve Fred and George?” he asked. “This seems like the sort of thing they’d love to be in on.”
“They would,” Ron agreed through a mouthful of sausage. “Mum would never let them, though.”
“She doesn’t need to,” Ginny added before taking a sip of pumpkin juice.
“What do you mean?” Harry asked curiously. “They’re brilliant at pranks and revenge and stuff.”
“Harry,” Ginny said patiently, “we’re talking about the woman who gave birth to them. The woman who raised them. It’s not widely known because it embarrasses the twins, and Mum’s ashamed of ever participating in it, but there’s a reason she intimidates them and it has nothing to do with how loud she can yell. Mum got into a prank war with the twins a few years ago, and she completely decimated them. It only lasted a few hours; the rest of us were in shock for days.”
“I would be too,” Harry breathed.
“It was downright scary, mate,” Ron agreed. “I don’t think she’s ashamed of beating them, though. She just thinks she went too far with the prank that ended it. I mean, Fred and George are usually just out for laughs, or maybe to embarrass somebody, but Mum....” His voice trailed off, as though he couldn’t quite put what he wanted to say into words.
“She goes straight for the jugular,” Ginny filled in for him. “Her pranks are designed to create terror, not laughter.”
“What did she do?” Harry asked, wide-eyed.
“We weren’t actually there,” Ron answered. “Mum made sure nobody else was home at the time. All I know is Fred and George both had nightmares for weeks. She felt terrible about it, but it’s definitely stopped them from ever trying to prank her again. The rest of us are still fair game, of course, but after that, Mum’s off limits.”
Harry didn’t have a chance to ask any more questions, because at that moment Hermione returned from talking with Professor McGonagall.
“Come on, Ron; we need to get going,” she said as she stooped to pick up her bag.
“Yeah, we should probably head off to the Room of Requirement for a while,” Harry commented as he, Ron, and Ginny got to their feet and headed for the doors.
“Isn’t it a bit early for a snogging break?” Ron teased.
“Actually, I was planning on doing some training, but I think I like your idea better,” Harry laughed. He and Ginny soon parted ways with Ron and Hermione, and continued on their way up to the Room of Requirement. When they arrived, Harry paced in front of the hidden entrance three times, just as he always did, causing the door to magically appear.
“Harry!” Ginny giggled as they stepped inside. “I thought you were joking when you told Ron we might go off and snog.”
“Well, it does sound like a lot of fun,” Harry teased as he gave the room an approving look. There was a comfortable loveseat sitting near a fireplace complete with a roaring fire, and floating candles lit the room with a soft, relaxing glow. “That’s not the main reason I made the room look like this today, though,” he continued as they sank into the loveseat. “The main reason was because I wanted to discuss our revenge on Malfoy.”
“You’re serious?” Ginny cackled. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun! Do you have any ideas?”
“Just one,” Harry replied calmly. “But it’s a good one!”
“And...? Are you planning on sharing it with me?”
Harry ignored her question as he began rummaging in his bag. “When Sirius went after Wormtail back in my third year, he said he wanted to commit the crime he had been imprisoned for. Even though I’ve regretted it off and on, I still think I was right to convince him not to do it - murder’s a big deal, after all. But in this case, I think Sirius’ idea is about right. Recognize this?” he asked as he produced a vial of brown liquid.
A slow grin spread across Ginny’s face. “Who are we going to make him fall in love with?” she asked gleefully. “I wonder if it works on animals; we could probably figure out a way to get a few tears out of Mrs. Norris. I bet Snape’s physical pain idea would work quite nicely.”
“No,” Harry laughed. “It doesn’t work with animal tears, although that would be really funny. But I think I’ve got the next best thing.” He held up a tiny vial with an even tinier amount of clear liquid inside.
Ginny raised her eyebrows in question. “Please tell me those aren’t your tears, Harry.”
“Ugh!” Harry groaned, pulling a disgusted face. “Don’t go there, Ginny, please. No, I got these from Millicent Bulstrode. She was out in the corridor crying when I left the Great Hall this morning, so I Summoned three of her tears and snuck back inside before she had a chance to see me.”
Unable to hold it in any longer, Ginny dissolved into a fit of laughter. “That’s even worse than Mrs. Norris!” she cried. “You really do hate Malfoy, don’t you?”
“Just now figuring that out, are you?” Harry asked with a crooked grin. “Now all we have to do is figure out when and how to slip him the potion. We’ll want to do it sometime when Snape isn’t around; otherwise he might get the antidote in time and it’d all be for nothing.”
“Let’s just get Dobby to put it in Malfoy’s pumpkin juice once Snape leaves the Great Hall after lunch,” Ginny suggested. “Dobby hates the Malfoys and he loves you; he’d agree in a second!”
“No good,” Harry said sadly. “Dobby works for the school, so he has to tell the truth if somebody on the staff asks him about it. We need to find a way to do it so there’s no possible chance of getting caught.”
They spent the next half hour tossing ideas back and forth and working out a plan. By the time they had to leave for Care of Magical Creatures, both were confident that their plan would work.
For the rest of Tuesday and all of Wednesday, Harry found himself barely able to concentrate in class, or even during his detention with McGonagall. Mentally going over and over his plans for revenge on Malfoy was just so much more interesting! In fact, the only other thing he was able to concentrate on properly was Quidditch practice. Potions class on Wednesday was particularly unbearable, and Harry was sure that the only reason he survived it at all was because Dumbledore must have somehow convinced Snape that he was only allowed to dole out verbal abuse, and not physical punishments.
By the time Thursday morning came around, Harry’s anticipation at the prospect of carrying out his plan had grown to the point that he was barely able to eat his breakfast.
“Harry, what’s wrong?” Hermione asked as she watched him push a puny helping of eggs around his plate.
“Hmm? Oh, nothing,” Harry replied, shaking his head distractedly as he watched the occupants of the Slytherin table across the Great Hall.
“Not nothing,” Hermione argued. “You’re barely eating; something must be bothering you.”
“Just nerves about the match with Hufflepuff,” Harry mumbled.
“That’s not until Saturday,” Ron said, looking at him skeptically. “Besides, since when do you get nervous about playing Hufflepuff? They’re terrible!”
“I’m sorry, Harry,” Ginny sighed, “but they’re your best friends; you can trust them not to make fun of you.” She turned to Ron and Hermione as she explained, “Harry doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s been feeling sick since we saw Mrs. Norris chucking her breakfast in the corridor on our way down this morning.” Glancing back at Harry, she asked, “There, that wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”
Harry just shook his head, knowing that he couldn’t lie nearly as well as Ginny. Her ploy seemed to work on Ron at least, who made a comment about not wanting to hear that sort of thing while he was eating, and then went back to his sausages. Hermione, however, spent the rest of breakfast alternating between looking thoughtful and shooting Harry and Ginny accusing glances. Harry was quite relieved when breakfast ended and he and Ginny were able to head back to the common room for their free period. When they arrived in the empty common room, however, Harry quickly pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of a pocket in his robes, wrapped it around himself, and slipped back out into the corridor.
“Good luck,” Ginny whispered as the Fat Lady’s portrait swung closed.
Harry stole silently through the corridors until he arrived outside the Transfiguration classroom, where Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass were hurrying to get inside before the bell. He slipped through the doorway right behind them and tiptoed to the back of the room, hardly daring to breathe as he settled into the corner and Professor McGonagall stood to begin the lesson.
“Today we will be continuing our work on conjuring small mammals,” she began briskly. Harry slunk along the side wall to get a better view of the class. It was seventh-year Slytherins only, and Draco Malfoy was seated near the middle of the room. Harry ignored the professor as he carefully pulled a small vial of light green potion from his pocket, uncapped it, and created a small opening in the folds of his Invisibility Cloak.
Wingardium Leviosa, he called out in his mind while waving a finger over the vial. Just as he had intended, a single drop of potion rose up to hover over the mouth of the vial. A silent Banishing Charm sent it flying, unseen, into Malfoy’s waiting mouth.
Harry waited, not daring to move despite the fact that he was invisible. Malfoy didn’t react.
Wingardium Leviosa. Abigo!
Another drop of potion sailed across the room and into the blonde Slytherin’s mouth. Harry repeated this process over and over as McGonagall continued to lecture. After five minutes, he saw Malfoy pull a face and glance around.
I’m going too fast, Harry thought. He waited a full minute before sending the next drop of potion careening toward the pale-faced Slytherin. When Malfoy didn’t react, Harry had to clamp his mouth shut to avoid breathing a sigh of relief and giving himself away. Instead, he simply waited a few seconds and Banished another drop of potion into the back of Malfoy’s throat. When the vial had only a few drops left in the bottom, Harry noticed Malfoy starting to glance around the room when McGonagall wasn’t watching. Terrified of getting caught, he concentrated very hard on keeping his breathing quiet as he finished force-feeding potion to an unwitting Draco Malfoy.
As he unconsciously swallowed the final drop of potion, Malfoy’s eyes once again began to rove around the classroom. When he caught sight of Millicent Bulstrode, however, he froze, and his wandering gaze suddenly became an obsessive stare. Harry had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to keep from crying out in triumph. The plan had worked perfectly so far; now all he had to do was wait for the class to end and quietly make his exit.
A/N: I realize that some of you may feel that Harry has taken a step (or two) backwards in the maturity department in this chapter. Although I agree that his way of going about it isn’t the most mature, Harry is trying to come to grips with a very important lesson: adults aren’t always there to fix things for him. He’s had to deal with this reality repeatedly over the years, but only now is he truly recognizing it and trying to do something about it.