Pranking a Professor

Chapter Eight: Task Seven--Malicious Mind Games

"No, definitely not greasy enough. Harry, can we borrow your broomstick wax?"

"Not unless you want the said broomstick shoved down your throat."

Ron and Hermione were at it again, as usual. "There is no way you're putting that revolting oil in my hair!"

"Come on Hermione, the greasier the better!" Ron argued, reaching for the tin on Harry's nightstand. "Besides, all this mop you call hair does is absorb it, like a damn sponge..."

"Ron...she's going to..." began Harry tentatively, trying to warn his friend about the hot-tempered girl beside him raising her wand, but was cut off when Ron's ears began to sprout tiger lilies.

Exasperated, Harry sighed. "Oh never mind."

Hermione pocketed her wand, wearing a smile of satisfaction. "Since I'm the one that has to be dressed like this for a school week, I will decide exactly what should be done."

As Harry began to pluck the flowers from Ron's ears painfully, Hermione stepped in front of Ron's floor length mirror and observed herself. She had been garbed in a pair of wizarding trousers of Harry's--which they had to shrink a bit--and a black shirt with a ridiculous overabundance of tiny black buttons on the front that went from her waist all the way up to her chin. Hermione didn't know how many times she'd tried to adjust the neck of the shirt, but all were fruitless attempts.

"Harry!" she whined pitifully, "I can't wear this shirt! I'm being deprived of oxygen."

"That can only be a good thing," the youngest Weasley male muttered.

Ron gave a yelp of pain as Harry removed the last root from his ear with a force that suggested his annoyance. "That can't be helped Hermione, it's what he wears."

She made a straining face as she tried to loosen the collar once again. Out of all her items of clothing from the billowing robes that dragged on the floor like a wedding dress train and the horribly uncomfortable boots, Hermione was sure that her hair was the worst. She felt as though she were wearing a black pillowcase of axle grease on her head. The trio had elected to use a combination of what Tonks had attempted to teach her over the holiday with metamorphosis and a bit of Mistress Aphrodite's Beauty Serum, which allowed the drinker to charm any part of their body into the desired glamour. Well, that and a bit of Turtle Wax Harry had nicked from Vernon Dursley's automobile supplies, just in case he ran out of oil for his Firebolt over the year. Those of us on the Quidditch team know how important it is to have a shiny, slick broomstick and hard balls. And make of that what you will.

Hermione's new do hung about her cheeks limply, smearing grease on her once fair skin. The hair was a shade of black-blue so dark that her robes looked lighter than her hair did. For the third time in an hour, Hermione took a white handkerchief and wiped at her cheeks. She was disgusted to see that it came back a tinted yellow.

"Perfect," deduced Ron, looking satisfied at Hermione's reflection in the mirror.

"Not quite," Hermione said, looking sideways at her reflection. After taking out her wand again, she performed a glamour charm that turned her skin completely to a chalk-white.

"The teeth!" added Harry zealously, picking up the yellowed handkerchief Hermione had been using, preparing to smear it on her teeth. Hermione backed away.

"I don't think so. I just got my teeth looking the way I want them to three years ago! Mini-Snape will have to have good teeth," she said resolutely.

"Fine, fine," Ron sighed, though he clearly was disappointed.

"Now remember Miss Mini-Snape," Harry began in a teacher-like tone. Hermione cracked her knuckles menacingly, a habit she knew Harry couldn't stand. He went on without a qualm. "No talking, no answering questions, no enthusiasm, no smiles, no academic superiority, no...to hell with it. No being yourself Hermione."

"Nothing on your face but a sneer, nothing out of your mouth but sarcasm," Ron added promptly.

"Any rule about what goes in my mouth?" Hermione muttered, surprised at the odd image her mind conjured before shaking it away with disgust. The boys didn't seem to catch it.

Thou shall not think disturbing thoughts about thy Potions teacher.

"Now, we don't have Snape again until Friday--the last day. Let's hope he sees you in the hall. If he does, retain eye contact."

"Got it Lucy, Ethel," she interrupted with irritation. Ron looked confused, but before he could say anything, Hermione was gliding out of the boys' dormitory and out to face the world as Snape's double.

For those of you who are confused, like Ron, Lucy and Ethel are two characters from an old television show called 'I Love Lucy'...yet another muggle thing that has nothing to do with this story. But now that we're on the topic...Professor Dumbledore is rather partial to that television show, having seen it once or twice or a dozen times while experimenting with electricity in his private office, an affair that nearly got him electrocuted.

To say that Hermione caught the eye of a student or two was a mammoth understatement. To say that she caught the eyes of the entire school population was far nearer to the truth. Every single person in the hallways, corridors, and on the stairs was staring at her, transfixed by her new appearance. Hermione just sneered and strode down the ways, robes billowing behind her, a shorter, yet extremely close duplication of Professor Severus Snape. More than several students understood what exactly was going on and they yelled genially, "Good day Professor!" to her as she passed. She maintained her sneer, but was grinning broadly inside.

"It seems you Gryffindors aren't as thick as you look," she snapped back to Neville, who chuckled.

"See Hermione?" Ron said smugly. "Not that hard to figure out. I think they're onto us!"

"Leave it to you to state the obvious," replied Hermione simply.

The grease from her hair slapped on her face as she slunk into the Great Hall for breakfast, causing Hermione to make a slightly disgusted face. She surveyed her peers through foreboding eyes as all conversation in the Hall ceased and curious eyes found their way to her. Hermione didn't mind at all; her gaze was now burning into someone more important up at the Head table.

Professor Snape's sallow face was nearly completely hidden Daily Prophet, but his arched eyebrows and wide eyes appeared above the newspaper, containing utter bewilderment. Hermione stared hard into those endless, cold black eyes of her nearly identical teacher.

Damning Ron and Harry's pep talk to hell and back, Hermione broke her eye contact when she sat down just in front of the staff table and listened in on her teachers' conversations to drown out the tidal wave of whisperings concerning her from other house tables.

"Hermione Granger reminds me of another," pondered Professor Dumbledore as he munched on pancakes. "I know I've seen those robes and that hair style on someone else before. Don't tell me!" he snapped as Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to reply. She shut it quickly again. "It'll come to me sooner or later." Professor Dumbledore tapped the end of his crooked nose knowingly.

Hermione didn't make a sound as she glanced up at a very livid Professor Snape. He was glaring daggers at Professor Dumbledore, who continued with his pancakes, unaware of the syrup dribbling down his beard.

"Well, look at it this way Severus," Professor Lupin said in an annoyingly optimistic air, "it could be worse. She could be in a certain green dress with a vulture-topped hat and a bright red handbag."

Snape didn't reply, but Hermione could hear Snape's fists clenching up the sides of his newspaper.

"If you ask nicely," Lupin continued, sipping some tea, "I can give you some advice and even some help." His amber eyes darted down to Hermione, who was listening but was deliberately looking elsewhere. Harry met her eyes. He and Ron were listening as well.

"These pranks, after all, were similar to the ones James and Sirius used to play when we were in school. I know the perfect counter attack."

"I'd rather be given poison," Snape spat, flipping a page in his somewhat crumpled newspaper in a would-be nonchalant sort of way. "Given past situations, I think you and your thankfully deceased friends have administered enough 'help' to me already, Lupin." His tone was clear at what he was indicating with his words.

That shut Professor Lupin up.

Meanwhile, Hermione leaned in closely to Harry and Ron, who were both looking rather livid at the comment. "Did you two hear that?"

"Yeah," snarled Ron, a little louder than necessary. "What's Snape doing saying something like that about Professor Lupin?"

"And my dad," Harry added angrily.

"No, no, not that pinhead," Hermione snapped. "Why did Professor Lupin offer the proverbial olive branch to Snape?"

"I don't know," Harry said quietly, looking up at their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "Was he trying to help Snape?"

"I think we should watch ourselves," Hermione whispered, a paranoia shining in her big brown eyes. "I can't think of any reason why Professor Lupin would be against us..."

"It's all good fun," Ron scoffed, drinking some pumpkin juice. "Lupin wouldn't purposely sabotage us, even if he knew what we were doing. He was just rubbing it in Snape's face."

"I hope you're right Ron," Hermione replied softly, and with one last look at their mysterious teacher, she went back to her breakfast.

Mini-Snape still wasn't convinced when they attended Dark Arts class that afternoon.

Professor Lupin didn't let Hermione's appearance discourage him from carrying on with class as he usually did, every now and then choosing Hermione to answer a question. She did of course, though her voice was a drawling monotone, revealing boredom. And just as it is my tedious task to tell you this tale, it was Hermione's to keep a blank face and go along with her project, however peculiar Professor Lupin's previous behavior had been. But then again, maybe Ron had been right. Perhaps Lupin was just making it worse for the greasy git; taunting him even. Hermione decided that that was all it was. Professor Lupin had no part in any plan against the Gryffindor trio.

...Yeah right.

The next few days passed by blissfully uneventful. Transfiguration had been interesting; Professor McGonagall turned an odd shade of pink when she looked at Hermione, as if willing herself not to laugh. Professor Flitwick had been overjoyed and rolling with odd giggles when Hermione stepped into the Charms classroom. Professor Vector accidentally called her Severus in Arithmancy, which sent the class into a gale of laughter. Other than that, there was solitude for the Gryffindor Head Girl. The calm before a storm, which was scheduled to hit Friday afternoon during Potions class.

But along with her new look came a new attitude for our golden girl. Hermione had braced herself all week for this, practicing in her other classes, and now she felt no fear what so ever.

She went about breakfast that morning with a scowl on her face, making light conversation with Harry and Ron without loosing her façade.

When the bell rang, her stomach dropped a little bit, but Hermione held her chin high.

He's not going to get to me.

Stepping into the Potions lab made her knees wobble. Professor Snape was not there, and the suspense was driving her crazy.

I'm going to be fine...steady...

Hermione sat down and prepared herself, trying to sneer instead of shiver. At last, Professor Snape strode into the room, slamming the door behind him just as the bell rang, signaling the start of class. He slunk to his desk in a manner most unpleasant, began roll call and heard a consecutive 'Present!', as each of the students pronounced their attenance. When he got to 'Granger, Hermione', she tried extremely hard to sneer.

"Here," she snapped. Professor Snape watched her for a moment, eyes glittering, before moving on. The situation would have been very humorous, but even the students of this particular Potions class could tell that the evil look on Snape's face was far from funny. He looked murderous today.

I wonder if digging graves falls under Filch's job description...Hermione had a feeling she may need one very soon.

The class dragged on. Professor Snape deigned to spend the day lecturing on the properties of armadillo bile and how it functioned in various potions. Hermione, being the studious person that she was, was taking very specific, detailed notes. When the lesson was near finished, Professor Snape began to assign the homework for the evening.

"I want two feet of parchment on why armadillo bile is so potent in the Wiggenweld Potion."

The entire class groaned at the assignment as they hastily started packing their things away.

He'll deduct house points from Gryffindor next. The man was too damn predictable. Hermione's mouth opened unconsciously to state the response she knew was coming.

"Five points from Gryffindor," she said aloud, purely accidental, the exact moment Snape had.

The room was eerily silent, and Hermione couldn't help swallowing at her teacher's glare. She hadn't meant to say it that loud...she really hadn't...

As Snape growled, "Class dismissed," Hermione made a dash for the door.

"Miss Granger, you will stay behind."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. She was going to die. Harry and Ron gave her sympathetic looks and tried to linger before Snape snapped at them.

"Alone!" Harry and Ron both hurried out of the classroom, leaving their bushy-haired, brave friend alone with the Sinister One.

Hermione was trying her best to keep her wits about her as she stood in front of Snape's desk, staring into the dark tunnels of his obsidian eyes. He didn't say anything for what seemed a very long time, but just continued to stand there and observe her. Hermione was finding it difficult to remain still under the scrutiny of his glare. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Miss Granger, I have been observing you over the span of the past few weeks," he began, teeth bared and eyes narrowed, "and I have noticed that you seem to be spending your time trying to play little tricks on me."

He stopped there, and Hermione saw that he was waiting for her explanation. She found herself feeling particularly brave...or suicidal...so she decided to act upon her feelings, even though she was one hundred percent certain that she was about to get barbecued. She had promised to maintain her imitation of him, even if it meant a severe punishment of slow torture and painful death that could only involve poison and meat cleavers. "It's a surprising thing, sir, that you have spent so much time...watching me. You flatter yourself, however, to think that I spend my free time--if any--thinking of you. I assure you, I have more meaningful ways of wasting my time. Like reading a book."

There was silence for a moment between them before Snape charged on her, coming around his desk and striding towards her with purpose. Hermione, scared, hurried backwards as fast as she could, and found herself backing into a wall, and Snape still kept coming, until he had her pinned against the hard granite wall. While Hermione was not in pain, she was very uncomfortable, and Snape was incredibly close to her. She was now utterly frightened and wished more than anything that she hadn't answered him in the manner that she had.

"I am not one to be toyed with, Miss Granger," he snarled, causing her eyes to widen with fear. She suddenly had forgotten how to breathe. "I tire of these mind games you insist on playing. If you value your position at Hogwarts at all, you would do well to leave me alone. If you dare to continue this game with me, Miss Granger, I can assure you..."

Snape leaned in very close to her ear, his cheek brushing against hers. She shivered involuntarily.

"You will not like the consequences." Subtle words that held a powerful and foreboding promise behind them; Hermione knew this, and she intended to heed him well. Very well.

Professor Snape pulled away from her, easing up on the hand he had propped against the wall to stand straight once more.

"Now get out of my sight!"

Hermione did not need telling twice. She snatched her bag up and ran out of Professor Snape's classroom as fast as she possibly could, fear and an odd sort of excitement thudding in her heart.

"What do you mean, you're giving up?!" Ron yelled as Hermione wiped the last bit of grease off of her face and charmed her skin back to the peach color it was naturally.

"What exactly did Snape say to you before?" asked Harry, raising a questioning eyebrow. Hermione shook her head as she fastened her normal robes together. She'd lost the Snape demeanor, regardless of whether it was her last day or not.

"He knows," she replied simply, fluffing her hair in Ron's mirror for a moment before heading down to the common room.

"He knows what?" Harry questioned.

"Knows what we're doing to him! He's onto us," Hermione snapped, sitting down in the armchair, preparing to start some of her mountainous pile of homework.

"So what?" Ron said, shrugging as if it meant nothing. "He can't do anything unless he actually sees you play a prank on him."

"Snape threatened to expel me Ron."

Ron's eyes grew wide. "On what grounds?!"

Hermione was trying hard to keep her patience. The boys didn't understand, and she doubted any amount of explanation would make them. "Does it matter? He has the power to if he wanted to."

"Dumbledore has the power," Harry challenged. Hermione threw her hands up in the air, utterly exasperated. "I'm not going to argue with you. I said I'm done, I'm done. You two can finish if it means that much to you. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to the library so I can get some work done."

And with that, Hermione stood up, gathered her bag, and made her way to the library, leaving a fuddled Ron and Harry in her wake.

"Charms first," she planned to herself, digging into her school bag and unearthing her book. "That's the class I'm most behind on." Hermione got to the library, flung the door open, and made to step through the threshold when she got a very pleasant surprise.

In the form of a waterfall of icy water being dumped upon her person.

Hermione stood there in a state of shock, eyes clenched shut, feeling the cold water prickling her skin and soaking wet clothes and hair clinging to her body. Taking a steadying breath and trying not to scream with frustration, she slowly turned around, trying to spot the culprit. There was no one beyond her.

Dropping her text book on the ground and pushing the sopping hair away from her eyes as one draws curtains apart, she looked up to see a large bucket, still dripping water, hanging above her. The bucket was tied to a thin, almost invisible cord that was attached to the library door; she'd tripped the wire when she opened it.

A sudden realization befell her, and her eyes widened with anger.

I've been pranked.

After a hasty argument with Madam Pince, who was furious with her for disrupting the quiet state of her library, that ended up with her receiving detention with Filch for the next two days--Good, I can ask him about the grave situation--, Hermione picked up her sopping school back, inserted the ruined book, and stomped up to the Gryffindor common room with purpose, leaving a wet foot print trail behind her.

Upon her arrival, Hermione found that both Harry and Ron were on the rug in front of the fire playing Exploding Snap. She slammed the portrait door closed, and from the other side, she could hear the Fat Lady exclaim, "Really!"

"Back so soon Hermione?" asked Ron, looking up. That was a mistake. Right then and there, Ron exploded with laughter, causing Harry to turn around and see what it was that Ron found so funny.

"Boo," Hermione said, holding up her soaking wet arms. Harry joined Ron in the humor.

And there poor Hermione stood in the thick of it all, pretending to grin along with them for several seconds before stepping on the rug and delivering a swift kick to the ribs of both boys.

"Knock it off!" she snapped, sitting down near the fire to warm up as she began to charm herself dry.

"So who's the criminal responsible for this one?" asked Ron, eyes pealing with laughter.

"I have no clue in the slightest," she replied angrily. Harry was thinking--which was a very difficult task for the Boy-Who-Lived, you have no idea.

"Let's think now," Harry began, "has anything strange happened to you today?"

Hermione stared at him. "Why no Harry, nothing at all. I had my Potions professor press me against a wall and threaten my existence. It's business as usual."

Though the wall-pressing situation wasn't half bad...

Harry gave Hermione a cold look. "Seriously."

"No Harry! This whole week's been odd!" Hermione looked as though she were going to say more, but decided against it. Her wheels were turning.

"What are you thinking?" Ron questioned Hermione.

"Lupin," Hermione concluded decisively.

Harry and Ron looked at her, absolutely floored. "Lupin?" Harry repeated uncertainly.

Hermione nodded. "Remember? He offered to help Snape get us back on Monday..."

Ron made a fist and punched the palm of his hand. "Lupin! I'll bet it was him! You're right Hermione! Let's prank him as well."

Hermione shook her head. "We can't be sure of that. That's simply the only odd thing that's happened this week."

"Well then...what are we going to do?" asked Harry.

Hermione was silent for several moments as she thought. She could very well get expelled for continuing with this game against Snape. Part of her wanted to throw the list into the fire in front of her, and yet, the adrenaline coursing through her veins sent her surges of bravery and foolishness--two traits that coincide well in a Gryffindor's heart.

"Give me that list Ron," Hermione said suddenly. Ron raised his eyebrows.

"But I thought--."

"I'm going to get my revenge. And if I have to take it out on Snape, so be it," Hermione said flatly. Harry and Ron exchanged grins as he handed the parchment over to Hermione.

Task # 8--Get the Potions class to wave enthusiastically when Professor Snape enters with a chorus of, "Hello, Professor Snape!" Do the same thing when the class ends, "Goodbye, Professor Snape!"

Duration: One Potions class.

"This is perfect," Hermione said happily. "Now he can't blame anything on just us because the entire class will be doing it! He can't target me on this one."

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" questioned Harry warily.

"Oh, grow up. It's only Snape, for Circe's sake."

Harry and Ron watched their friend with blank faces. She was cackling and rubbing her hands together craftily, like Dr. Frankenstein about to bring his monster to life. Ron looked honestly scared.

"Sweet Cerberus...what have we created?" moaned Harry, dragging a hand over his face.

Later that night...

"Did it work?" he asked skeptically, looking up at the swinging bucket, now empty. "How do we know it didn't just fall over and miss Granger?"

His accomplice rolled his eyes and then pointed down to the obvious wet foot prints. "Big foot, little foot, big foot foot, little foot, leading away from the door. What does that tell you?" the accomplice asked sarcastically.

He narrowed his eyes. "It tells me you're going to get my big foot if you don't shut your big mouth."

"Do we have an accord then?" the accomplice inquired, holding out his hand.

And the conniving men shook hands.