Are You Off Your Rocker?

September - Part Three

September 17, 1996

Amelia Alder hit the trick step in the third floor staircase and fell over with a thud. Her book bad slid from her shoulder, spilling its contents everywhere.

"Oh, no!" she cried out, trying to yank her leg from between the planks of the step. "Not again!" She had only been at Hogwarts for two and a half weeks, and it was already the twenty fourth time she had been caught in this very stair. "Oh, Merlin, I'm going to be late for Transfiguration again!" she moaned and yelled out for help. "Please, is there anyone who can hear me? Hey, you there!"

From around the corner of the hallway, Amelia could hear the distinct rustling of robes. Someone was lurking just around the bend. But why weren't they coming out to save her?

Suddenly, a very familiar forehead and eyes peeked out from the hiding place, before whipping back in again at the sight of her.

Amelia was puzzled. "Professor," she called out hesitantly. "Professor, are you alright?"

Whoosh!

Severus Snape, robes billowing through the air behind him, leapt across the hallway and scurried to disappear behind the wall on the other side.

Amelia stared in shock. "What the - "

Snape pealed down the corridor, ducking behind suits of armor and into nooks to the great amusement of the student population. He ignored them all. Thinking back to the small first year trapped in the staircase, he felt a pang of sympathy -

No, he thought viciously. They don't deserve my sympathy. None of them do. It was probably a trap. Yes, yes, a trap! He laughed hysterically and abruptly checked behind him for pursuers. That's it exactly! They want to lure me into security like before ... He shuddered as he recalled this morning's breakfast.

He was innocently strolling into the Great Hall for his morning meal when ...

"Oi, Professor Twinkle-Toes!" called a voice behind him. Snape spun around.

"What was that, Potter?" he bit out ferociously.

"I said, 'Wait up, Professor Snape'," Harry said sweetly.

"Do you really expect me to believe - " But before he could finish, Potter did the most horrible, the most sickening, the most life-scarring things that could ever occur.

Hug him and say you were on strict instructions from Dumbledore to do it - Check.

A great convulsion overtook Snape's body and he shook uncontrollably, vomiting into the helmet of a near by knight.

"Ewwww ..." the suit shuddered and crumpled to the floor.

Snape wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Control yourself, Severus. You promised that you would never think of that again.

He slowly, but surely, made his way down to the scene of the crime. Sighing, he pushed open the heavy oak doors. It seemed as if he had lost his meddlesome shadows.

"Snapie-Kins!"

Snape drastically lost the little color left in his face. Lavender Brown was practically skipping up to him.

"What do you want, Miss Brown?" he managed, grinding his teeth together.

She fluttered her eyelashes. "Nothing, honey-buns. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. You ran out of here so quickly this morning ..."

"I'm fin - " A dark black splotch on the girls arm caught his attention. "What is that?"

"It's nothing." She swiftly reached for her robe sleeve to conceal the offending mark, but the Professor grabbed her arm and yanked it towards his face.

He took a deep breath. "Why does it say - Sevvie - on your arm?"

Lavender took a step back. "This - this - has absolutely nothing to do with you!" she blurted and dashed out of the hall.

Draw on a fake tattoo. One that says 'Sevvie.' Insist it has nothing to do with him. - Check

Snape watched in amazement as Brown scampered away from him, instead of the other way around. Thanking Merlin for a break from the madness, he headed up to the head table for a nice relaxing lunch.

"You should go after her," advised a silly, high-pitched voice over his left shoulder. "She looked really upset."

Snape turned his head to catch the speaker, only to find no one there. A deeper, more masculine voice came from the other side.

"No, let her suffer! Why waste your time running after a silly, sappy Gryffindor?"

With a menacing growl, Snape twisted around to find Dean Thomas standing behind him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Can - I - help - you?" he said in a deathly cold voice.

"Er ..." Thomas sputtered out. "Just thought you should know that ... well, you know what tonight is right? I just want you to be careful, okay?" Thomas raced out of the room, wanting to be far away from Snape when the meaning of this message sunk in.

A furious scream told him that retreating had been a good idea.

Become his 'Good-Snape' and 'Bad-Snape'. (I.e. poke your head over his shoulder and advise him according to which Snape you are. Then switch shoulders and say the opposite. Use a silly voice.) - Check.

Be sure to let him know when there's a full moon coming. - Check.

September 21, 1996

Snape walked, trembling slightly, up from the dungeons where he had locked himself days ago. The terrors hadn't found him there, but there was only so long a person could stand to be holed up in an underground room with no windows.

Maybe they've given up, he thought reasonably, assuring himself. Maybe they've moved on to some other scheme of theirs. Feeling safe with these thoughts, Snape entered the Hall, a spring in his step.

And met a feminine copy of himself.

"Oh my ..." Snape stopped dead in his tracks. "What is going on here?"

Lavender's eyes widened and she pushed her now long black locks out of her face. "Erm ... this has nothing to do with you either!"

Dress like him and dye your hair black. Refer to yourself as 'mini-Snape'. - Check.

"No!!!" Seamus screamed. "There are two of them!"

"But - but -," Dean stuttered. "Which one is the real one?"

Harry rolled his eyes, pointing at Lavender. "That one, of course! He's been teaching classes for the past two days!"

"What?!?" Snape screamed. They ignored him.

"Then who is that?" Dean asked, motioning to Snape.

"That ... er ..." Lavender fumbled for an answer. "My cousin!"

"Flicky Flickerton!" Harry said, a look of dawning appearing in his eyes.

"... right."

"I've always wanted to meet you, Mr. Flickerton," gushed Harry, shaking Snape's hand. "Professor Snape speaks so highly of you."

"I'll leave you here to get acquainted," Lavender said hurriedly and rushed off towards the Head Table.

"You get back here, you - " Snape was cut off by Seamus.

"Maybe you can help us, Mr. Flickerton," he said confidentially, putting an arm around Snape's shoulders. "We've been scrounging around for ideas, but still haven't been able to find a solution to our problem."

"What problem?"

At Seamus whispered plan, Severus spun around and walked out of the Hall to lock himself back in his room.

"Wow, Snape and his cousin are very alike," Dean pondered aloud.

Harry grinned. "He's Snape-tastic!"

Call him 'Flicky Flickerton' by accident. - Check.

Tell him it's your life-long goal to de-grease him. - Check.

Tell him he's 'Snape-tastic!' 'Snape-o-riffic!' works just as well. - Check.

September 28, 1996

Dumbledore finally convinced Snape to emerge a week later, much to the disappointment of the school.

Still in a foul mood, the sullen Professor burst into his classroom, ready to begin menacing unsuspecting students.

Splat!

A bucket of soap water dropped onto his shocked head.

The students gasped.

"Er, need a brush over there, Professor!" Dean offered timidly.

Snape turned his menacing glare on to the Gryffindor, who gulped and shrunk back into his seat.

"It looks like a tidal wave hit this place!" Harry commented, stepping over the gathering puddle and into the classroom.

"Are you alright?" a once again brunette Lavender cooed. "You look like you could use a stiff drink." She pulled a bottle out of her robes. "Tequila?"

'Need a brush over there Professor?' - Check.

Offer him tequila. - Check.