Once again, Snape looked unimpressed, but he didn't say anything. With his problem solved, Harry wondered if he should leave. He'd gotten quite used to spending Friday evenings in the Potions Master's quarters with Remus, doing his homework and catching his pseudo-godfather up on everything he hadn't managed to tell him through the mirror. The thought of going back to Gryffindor Tower so early made something in his chest twinge sadly.
"I won't help you with your homework," Snape declared flatly. "But if you wish to avoid the antics of the many Weasleys you surround yourself with, you may stay."
Harry checked his Occlumency shields for a minute, worried he had let Snape slip in. But no, they were as solid as ever. He was just pathetic and transparent, evidently. What had his life come to that he'd rather do homework in his most hated professor's private rooms rather than up in the common room with his friends?
"Would you… if you're not too busy, would you teach me the Bubblehead charm? Please?" he requested tentatively. Snape's dark eyes surveyed him for a moment, and then he sighed. "Very well," he assented. "But if your essay on Monday isn't of O level quality, you'll be in detention until Easter."
Harry laughed, wondering when threats of detention had become endearing rather than terrifying. "Yes, sir," he agreed, grinning.
The Bubblehead charm wasn't particularly difficult, but Snape was right that it took concentration to maintain. Harry couldn't get it to stick for more than five minutes by the time Snape told him to give it a rest and get on with his homework, claiming he had essays to mark. The Potions Master didn't kick him out even then, so Harry settled in to do his homework at the man's coffee table, the pair of them sitting in surprisingly companionable silence as they each got their work done. Every now and then, Harry asked Snape a question, like he might Remus or Sirius. To his utter astonishment, Snape would actually answer, explaining concisely until Harry could make sense of the work he was doing. He was a great teacher when he wasn't being an evil git, in more subjects than just Potions. It was almost like being back at Seren Du, but… easier. Over the summer they'd still had a lot of prejudice and awkward history to work past. Now, Harry was actually enjoying being in the man's company. It wasn't quite as relaxing as being with Remus or Sirius, but it was… nice.
He wondered if Snape was enjoying it as much as Harry was; what he might go and tell Remus about it when he saw the man next. Harry could imagine it already; Remus' eyes lighting up at the news, that happy little proud smile that he got whenever he saw Snape loosening up around people who weren't him. Whenever his newly reunited family started truly acting like one.
Harry didn't mind so much, having Snape in the family. He was Draco's godfather, after all. But all that aside, he was Remus', and that made him Harry's to some degree, too. Whether Snape liked it or not.
"Potter, stay where you are." The sharp voice rang out through the Potions classroom, and Harry grimaced, shaking his head when Neville shot him a concerned look. "I'll catch up," he assured, wondering what he was in trouble for this time. Perhaps, after having the weekend to think it over, Snape regretted being so nice to Harry. They'd had a pretty pleasant evening working together in his quarters, and he probably just wanted to make it clear he was still the evil, terrifying dungeon bat Harry had thought he was for the first three years of schooling.
When they were the only two left in the classroom, Snape locked the door and went through a series of privacy wards; he, too, was aware of Skeeter's subterfuge. Harry stayed in his seat, waiting for the explosion.
"How often do you check the map?" Harry blinked at question. "I— what?"
the
unexpected
"The Marauders' blasted map," Snape clarified. "How regularly have you been checking it?"
"At least three times a day, lately," he said. "Looking for Rita Skeeter." So far nothing unusual had come up, except for Mr Crouch being in the school sometimes. But he was probably just organising tournament stuff. "Why do you ask?"
Snape scowled. "Someone broke into my private stores recently."
"Was it another champion looking for gillyweed, do you think?" Harry queried, wondering who would be stupid enough to steal from Snape.
"No; the only thing of note that was missing was boomslang skin." His dark eyes turned pointed as comprehension dawned on Harry's face. "You haven't been brewing Polyjuice potion again, have you, Potter?"
"What? No!" Harry denied immediately. "What use would I have for Polyjuice? Wait, how do you know about the first time?"
"Miss Granger was indelicate in breaking into my stores, and left her magical signature all over the place," Snape replied. "Don't tell me what you used it for, I'm quite certain I don't want to know. I assume it had something to do with Miss Granger transformed into a cat."
being
partially
Harry snickered at the memory. "Yeah, bit of a mix-up there." Snape gave him a despairing look. "I swear, sir, I don't know anything about any Polyjuice being brewed. Couldn't you tell who did it this time?"
"Whoever it was, they were very thorough in removing any trace of their presence," Snape said, looking quite annoyed by that. "They stole enough for quite a large batch of Polyjuice, so I suspect they won't need any more for a while."
Harry glanced up sharply as the man's words settled in his brain. "You think it's for long-term use."
"I think there is someone in this castle who is not who they appear to be," Snape confirmed. "Whoever it is, they're doing an impeccable job at impersonating their chosen target."
"Do you think they're the one who put my name in the Goblet?" Harry asked grimly. Snape nodded.
"It would make sense, yes. Stay vigilant, Potter, and check the map whenever you are able. If any name is unfamiliar to you, come to me immediately."
"Yes, sir." The map was enormous, but Harry would keep an eye on it the best he could. "Can I go, sir? I'm going to be late to History of Magic."
"Which would, of course, be such a tragedy," Snape retorted dryly, making Harry snicker.
"Oh, I'd be devastated," he agreed. Snape rolled his eyes, turning away.
"Get out, brat. Come to me at lunchtime on the 23rd, I'll get you your gillyweed. The fresher it is, the more potent it will be."
"Thanks, Professor!" Leaving the classroom, he made sure to school his expression into something appropriately downtrodden as he walked past the crowd of second years waiting for their lesson to begin. As soon as he was past them, it turned into a concerned frown, his hands suddenly itching to pull the map from his bag. That was… concerning news. At least now they had something to look for.
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