Harry Potter and the Year of Living Stupidly

Chapter Six

Secrets and Outright Lies

Morning again, and rumors were circulating among the long rows of tables in the great hall. The teachers had failed to show up for breakfast. What was more, the bacon that had been sent up was of very poor quality, indicating some distress among the house elves. Harry strolled among the tables, picking out the best bits of pig for himself and eavesdropping shamelessly on the gossip. Hannah Abbott, who was rather daft, believed Lord You-Know-Who had Apparated into Hogwarts in the middle of the night and stuffed all the professors into a giant armoire. In a rather good imitation of Hermione, Ernie Macmillian reminded her that no one could Apparate on the grounds of Hogwarts. Over at the Slytherin table, Blaise Zabini whispered stories of strange sex rituals performed by the professors on the grounds at night -- until Theodore Nott rather scathingly pointed out that that meant someone was perverted enough to bang Dumbledore and everyone within earshot lost their appetites. Luna Lovegood naturally had the most amusing theory of all, involving time travel, crumple-horned snorkacks, and cans of liquid protein drinks.

The stories grew wilder, and Harry giggled to himself, although he was careful to keep a neutral expression on his face as he picked through the pieces of burnt bacon. Ron, who was trailing him and stepping on the backs of his feet, kept glancing at the high table as if he hoped to see the professors just suddenly there. His bewildered mooncalf look was starting to get on Harry's nerves.

"Don't you have prefect duties to fulfil?" Harry demanded at last.

"Nobody's going to listen to me without the teachers to back me up!" Ron protested. The only adult in the room was Gilderoy Lockhart, who hardly counted. As a matter of fact, Lockhart was drinking pumpkin juice and making it dribble out his nose for the amusement of a group of particularly immature first years.

"They'd have listened to Hermione," said Harry spitefully. Ron looked reproachful and picked at his buttons.

"It's just that they'll all start asking me what's going on, and I don't know."

"So tell them you don't know."

"Do you know what's going on, Harry?"

Harry widened his green eyes into an expression of astounded innocence. "How would I know what's going on, Ron?"

"I just thought it might have something to do with. . . you know. You-Know-Who," replied Ron in a soft, anxious tone. "You usually seem to know about You-Know-Who."

"You mean Lord Voldemort?" said Harry loudly. His high-pitched, irritating voice carried clearly through the great hall. All conversation was silenced. Having attracted everyone's attention, Harry lowered his voice in a pretense of confidentiality while simultaneously ruffling up his hair so the lightning-bolt scar showed clearly. "Gee, I bet you're right, Ron. The professors' absence has something to do with You-Know-Who."

"Oh," said Ron, amazed that he hadn't triggered a screaming fit -- and equally astonished to have been right about something for a change. "I see. Brilliant! Er. . . what does it have to do with You-Know-Who?"

"I bet he attacked someone last night," said Harry cunningly. "You'll see. The teachers will come out in a moment looking very sad, and then they'll make an announcement." He nodded his head and stuffed bacon in his mouth. Slowly the whispers started up again. They had a different tone to them now -- softer, and more concerned. Harry felt a warm glow of inner satisfaction fill him. He hoped Rita arrived soon.

Sirius Black paced back and forth in front of the staff room, his hands clasped behind his back. Every so often he'd check his watch and sigh loudly. He really felt he should have been allowed in with the rest, but Flitwick had kindly but firmly informed him that being a dead ex-convict with a pretension of understanding about Muggles did not qualify him as a professor. So he had to wait outside. Sirius hated waiting.

The door suddenly flew open with a bang and Severus Snape stepped out, breathing loudly through his flaring nostrils, his eyes narrowed to slits. Sirius had never been so pleased to see him in his life. "Hello, Snape," he greeted in the whiny, nasal 'Snape voice.' "How are you today? What's happening?"

Snape did not reply. He glared briefly at Sirius, and then stepped widely around him, as if he were avoiding treading on something nasty a dog had made on the floor.

Sirius shrugged and went back to pacing. "Thanks for nothing, then, Snivellus." He'd only taken a few steps when the staff room door opened again -- much more quietly this time. Remus Lupin came out, walking slowly and rubbing his temples. Sirius all but flew to his side. "What's going on, Remus?" he demanded.

"I got it," Lupin replied quietly. "Don't ask me how, but I got it."

"Got what?"

"The position of headmaster."

Sirius's jaw fell open. A moment later he started to grin. "So just add your name to the list of prefects who gained power, eh?" he cackled.

Lupin took his hands away from his head and smiled faintly. "I just don't know what they were thinking. A werewolf headmaster -- the papers will have a field day."

"I know," Sirius chortled. He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Oh, this is going to be great! If only James were alive to see it!"

Lupin coughed into his hand. "Actually, you're not alive to see it," he reminded his friend delicately, but Sirius wasn't paying attention.

"No wonder Snape looked so sour! Bet he fancied the position himself."

"I got the impression he did." A line of professors filed out of the staff room, some of them stopping to shake Lupin's hand and congratulate him. "I'm going to have the devil's own time convincing him not to resign."

"Eh?" Sirius paused in his glee. "What's that? Why don't you want Snape to resign? He's an ass. He's always been an ass and he always will be one."

"He's an ass who can make Wolfsbane Potion. Furthermore. . . " A smile twitched at Lupin's lips. "What would be the fun of letting him get away now that I have power over him?"

"Oh, I see what you mean. Good point." Sirius brightened again. "Hey, this means you can send Peter packing!"

"I intend to. Along with some of the other rubbish around here." He lowered his voice. "Professor Binns for example. Why Dumbledore let that old drone bore generations of students half to death. . . "

"We are talking about Dumbledore here."

"Well, he's dead, and his pathetic curriculum is going to be buried along with him. No more Divination. It's a ridiculous subject."

"Hear, hear!"

"I think I'll put a course in Eastern Magic in its place. It's about time these students realized there's a whole world beyond Hogawarts' walls -- I hear that they almost went into shock when Beauxbatons and Durmstrang came to visit."

"It sounds like you've been planning this for a while, Moony."

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "You mean you haven't? I'd have thought when you've sat through as many dull, pointless classes as we did, you'd daydream about what could be done to make it better."

Sirius stared at him. "That's what you used to think about in class? You're weird, Moony. I was always planning our next prank."

"Good point." Lupin made a note. "If the students are interested in what they're learning, they won't feel the need to pull pranks -- or at least, not so many. Or at least not any stupid ones. I hate stupid pranks."

"Like when Peter shoved his big toes up his nostrils and rolled down the hallway pretending to be a bowling ball?"

"Yes, like that. Stop talking about Peter, Sirius. He's going to be tossed out on his ear, don't worry." Lupin brushed his hair out of his eyes again. "Right -- "

"So, are you finally going to buy a respectable pair of robes? Maybe get your hair cut?"

"First," said Lupin, "I have to make the announcement to the students. No, check that." He felt in his pocket. "First I have to eat some chocolate."

The teachers entered the room, walking slowly, their faces somber. The great hall began quieting at once. Harry took a seat at the Gryffindor table quickly and munched his bacon, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Difficult to do, with half the student population shooting him glances out of the corners of their eyes. Thus far, everything he'd said had been right on the money.

The last ones to enter were Professor Lupin and Sirius Black. Professor Snape did not appear at all, much to Harry's muted delight. Neither did Dumbledore, which set the students to murmuring. Ron gripped Harry's shoulder. "Where's the headmaster?" he whispered urgently.

"I don't know," Harry replied in tragic tones. The urge to giggle had returned.

The professors all took their seats, all except Lupin who was standing in front of Dumbledore's chair. He cast it a quick look, like he wasn't sure he wanted to chance actually sitting in it, and remained standing. "Your attention, please," he said in a level yet carrying tone. He did not need to raise his voice, because the room was already quiet and tense with expectation.

"I'm afraid I have some tragic news to impart to you," he began, and then was briefly interrupted by Sirius wiping a smear of chocolate off his mouth. Harry's levity was dying in his throat as he listened. Why was Lupin making the announcement?

"There is no gentle way to break it," Lupin went on, pushing Sirius's handkerchief away, "so I'll simply say it straight. Headmaster Dumbledore died in his sleep last night."

He paused and waited. There were cries of dismay, a few shouts of outright panic, and shocked expressions all around. A few students put their heads on the tables and burst into tears. Some of the Slytherins, however, were having trouble concealing their grins. Many of them had never forgiven Dumbledore for his last-minute switching of the points at the end of Harry's first year.

"Classes are canceled for today," Lupin continued, "to give both staff and students time to come to terms with our loss. A proper day of mourning will be announced and scheduled later." He took a deep breath. Harry and the rest of the students watched him closely. "In the meantime, I have been deputized to act as Headmaster."

Several mouths fell open at this. But some others, like Dean Thomas, looked utterly thrilled. "Cool!" whispered Dean. Harry was horrified, but before he could let out a bah, Lupin spoke again:

"I sincerely hope that I can count on the support of all of you to keep Hogwarts running smoothly and efficiently, as Dumbledore would have wished. Classes will resume tomorrow, and we shall all get through this hard time together."

He lowered his voice slightly. "I understand that many of you are feeling both shocked and sorrowful at this terrible news. For this reason, I ask that we all put aside rivalries and personal grievances to offer support to one another. Let Dumbledore's passing bring us together, as a proper memorial to his life." He gazed around the room, taking note, Harry was certain, of the various reactions to his tidings. "I would like to speak with the prefects in my office -- not Dumbledore's study, mind -- in ten minutes. Everyone else is dismissed. Spend the day in quiet reflection."

He nodded to the rest of the professors and left the room. They stood as well and trailed out. Immediately, the room burst into agitated whispers. At the Gryffindor table, several of the girls began weeping anew.

"Dumbledore's dead!" wailed Pavarti. "Was it You-Know-Who?"

"'Course not," snorted Seamus. "Weren't you listening? Dumbledore died in his sleep. He was well over a hundred, you know."

"Of course that's what they'd say," muttered Harry darkly.

"Professor Lupin wouldn't lie to us," said Dean loyally. "If it were Lord You-Know-Who, he'd tell us."

"Maybe," said Harry. He was worried himself, however. Not for the same reasons, of course. He'd never dreamed that Lupin would be made the next headmaster -- he'd been counting on McGonagall. Harry had been certain he'd flourish under her careless and Gryffindor-biased rule. Lupin was another matter altogether. He might actually be interested in turning Hogwarts into an efficient school -- the last thing Harry wanted.

Ron was also looking worried -- worried almost to the point of tears. "What's up with you?" Harry asked, nettled. He didn't need his faithful sidekick going to pieces on top of everything else.

Ron hesitated. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"Bah-ha-ha-ha -- yes. What is it, Ron?"

"Well, it's just once I heard this story that Dumbledore was really me. You see, like I went way back into the past with a Time-Turner and became Dumbledore and that's why Dumbledore always knew so much about you, Harry. But if it's true, it means I just died, and I'm not sure I'm happy about that, Harry!" Tears welled up in Ron's blue eyes.

Harry shook his head. "I wouldn't worry about it if I were you, Ron."

"No?" Tears were sliding down his cheeks.

"No. It'll be fun, really. If you're destined to be Dumbledore, it means you have over a hundred years of life ahead of you. You can do whatever stupid, asinine thing your heart desires and you'll know you're going to survive it because you have to grow up and become Dumbledore."

"Gee, I never thought of it that way," said Ron, pleased. Harry shook his head and went back to his bacon.

Ron turning into Dumbledore. Sheesh. Where did this crap come from -- out of a book or something? What a load of nonsense. Next they'd come up with something really stupid -- like Professor Lupin being actually his father James under a Switching Spell. Something ridiculous like that.

The damned bag was full already. Muttering curses, Snape tried to force the jar he was holding inside.

There was a definite-sounding crack. Snape snarled and muttered: "Reparo!" But it was too late. A slimy goo was coating the inside of his satchel now. Snape chewed savagely on his lip -- that goo had been very precious to him. He'd have to take a turn down Knockturn Alley to replace it, if indeed that were possible.

"Bloody, bloody, bloody hell," he growled. Perhaps he could salvage a bit of the goo from the inside of the bag. He fetched a long-handled spoon and began scraping --

-- there was a knock on his door.

This time Snape was determined to ignore it. He managed to collect half a scoop of the precious yellow-green slime and began carefully letting it ooze back into its container.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Go away!" he snarled.

"It's Lucius Malfoy!" came the muffled reply.

"I don't care!" Snape scraped at the inside of his satchel some more. This time the yield was smaller. What a waste. And he still didn't have room in his luggage for his entire collection -- but he was damned if he would leave it behind for the werewolf and the convict to play with.

Knock, knock, knock. "Let me in, Snape."

Snape was about to tell him to sod off, but had an idea. With a flick of his wand, he unlocked the door. Lucius almost fell into the room when it swung open of its own accord. "Warn a fellow before you do that," grumbled Lucius, recovering.

"Fetch me a large satchel. This one isn't big enough." Snape began folding virtually identical black robes and piling them into his open suitcase.

"I'm not your errand boy," Lucius reminded him indignantly. "And where are you going anyway? You have to stay and protect the school from the depredations of Harry Potter."

"That's where you're wrong." Snape continued folding up his clothes.

"It was your idea."

"It was my idea before that werewolf was made headmaster. Now it is my idea to leave as quickly as possible and hope that Potter makes him his next target."

Enlightenment dawned on Lucius. "You're jealous of Lupin!"

"I am not -- I am not jealous of Lupin!" Snape spluttered, dropping a robe in his anger. "Although I would have made a far better headmaster than he."

"That's a classically jealous statement."

"You can only be jealous of people you like." Snape stalked to the closet and snatched the last of his cloaks off its hanger. "And I despise Lupin."

Lucius's brow furrowed. "But you hate everyone."

"Yes, well, I hate Lupin more than everyone else -- except for Sirius Black and James Potter, that is. But they're both dead. So I hate Lupin more than anyone else living." He began folding the cloak, although his fingers were shaking by now and he did it quite badly.

Lucius thought it over. "Why?" he asked bluntly.

"Why do I hate Lupin?"

"Yes, exactly. Why do you hate Lupin? He never does anything to you."

"Oh, yes he does," said Snape darkly. "He's just always been far more clever about it than Potter or Black ever were. No curses in the courtyard or hexes in the hallway from sly Mr. Lupin, oh no! He never got caught. In fact, they made him a prefect!"

"This is pathetic." Lucius folded his arms across his chest and glared. "You're talking about things that happened twenty years ago or more. Isn't it time you got over the past, Snape?"

"He still does it," said Snape, trembling with rage. "He did it just now, in fact -- convinced all the staff that he's really just a friendly, sincere, well-intentioned person. That's why they gave him the job."

Lucius puffed up his cheeks and exhaled slowly. "Snape," he said quietly, "I hope what I'm about to say doesn't pain you too much, but that's not the reason they gave Lupin the job."

"Oh? I suppose you're going to tell me he's more competent than me?" Snape spat.

"No. No one doubts your ability. It's your personality they can't stand."

There was a pause. "Are you saying. . . I'm not popular?" Snape asked at last.

Lucius groaned and rolled his eyes. "And Narcissa thinks you're clever!"

"I realize that the students don't like me -- except for the Slytherins, of course. But who cares about what the brats think? The school would be better off without them, really."

"Well, Professor Sprout cares about the Hufflepuffs, because they're her House.' Lucius began enumerating on his fingers. "Professor Flitwick cares about the Ravenclaws and Professor McGonagall cares about the Gryffindors. Madame Pomfrey has that nurse thing where she cares about all the students. There are other professors who have been known to get attached to one or two students as well. So when you abuse your pupils, their other teachers find out about it sooner or later and feel a little cross with you. Oh, and you're not too polite to the other professors, for that matter, so they don't have any reason to like you in the first place."

"So Lupin won the headmaster's place simply because people like him a bit more than me?" Snape demanded.

"No. He won the headmaster's place because people like him a lot more than you. And because McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout apparently didn't want the job."

"Well, it's ridiculous." Snape whirled round and went back to his packing. "I refuse to be thrown out of Hogwarts on the basis of some popularity contest."

Lucius sighed. "No one's throwing you out. In fact, Lupin sent me to tell you he wants you to stay."

Snape fumbled the bottle he was holding, managing to catch it with just the tips of his fingers. "He must be mad."

"No, he honestly does."

"Then he must think I'm mad." Snape glared at the opposite wall. "Oh, no. I get it. He wants me to stay and brew Wolfsbane Potion for him so he can continue being a harmless little pup every month. Well, too bad for him. He'll just have to go back to biting pieces off himself again. Maybe he'll actually manage to kill himself -- send me a postcard if he does, all right?" Snape began emptying his sock drawer. Lucius leaned against the wall and sighed.

"Don't be a prat, Severus. First of all, they have you under contract for at least this year. Even Flitwick isn't leaving until the term is over."

Snape gritted his teeth. He'd been hoping everyone would overlook that small fact. "Yes, but there's a morality clause. If I do something totally disgusting, they'll have to let me go."

"That's true." Lucius looked interested. "So what disgusting deed did you have in mind, exactly? You could shag Peter Pettigrew. I'm quite sure Lupin would be glad to be rid of you after that."

"Er. . . Or I could break the law. I believe they have to dismiss me if I do that too."

"So you want to be sent to Azkaban, then, do you?" asked Lucius, idly examining his fingernails.

"Why not? I hear it's virtually a spa resort these days."

"I can't quite picture you at a spa resort, Severus."

"Neither can I," Snape admitted. He closed his suitcase and sighed. "But even less can I picture myself staying here while that. . . that creature runs the school. God! It's only the first week of December. I'll go mad before spring if I stay."

"Listen, old chap, I have an idea." Lucius leaned forward.

"What is it?" asked Snape warily. "And before you say anything, I don't consider dying an option."

"No, no, no. Nothing like that. Much simpler. Why don't you rejoin our side? Become a Death Eater again."

Snape laughed contemptuously. "What, me take orders from the refrigerator monster? Why bother? He's going to stuff himself into a heart attack some day anyway."

Lucius shook his head. "No, I quite agree. Forget about Lord V. Well, we can use his name to strike terror into the hearts of those who don't know he's a git, but in actuality, we'll have a new leader."

"Who?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "You? Mr. Feather-Dusters-and-Lemon-Scented-Polish?"

Lucius flushed a deep crimson. "Don't denigrate the sanitation profession," he said. "It's a honorable occupation, filled with a quiet dignity all its own."

"It's because of statements like that that none of the Death Eaters will listen to you, Malfoy."

"I wasn't thinking of myself for the job, actually."

"Who, then?" Snape brightened slightly. "I suppose I could -- "

"Well, you're a bit of a traitor, Severus."

"I should think that would be considered a plus for a Death Eater."

Lucius coughed into his hand. "I'm not saying you couldn't rise high within our ranks. I just had someone else in mind."

Snape folded his arms. "Just tell me, Lucius."

Lucius smiled. "My wife."

"Narcissa?" Snape thought about it and shuddered. He thought about it a bit longer. "If we're considering evil bitches for the job, how about Bellatrix?"

Now Lucius shuddered as well. "I don't know. Bellatrix is almost a little too evil. Got to hand it to those Blacks. . . they lived up to their name as a general rule. Don't know what happened with that Sirius."

"A disgrace to his family," agreed Snape. "Well, I suppose we could let Narcissa and Bellatrix mud-wrestle over leadership if you're serious about this."

"I'm serious," said Lucius. "Just think about it -- we've already made a vow to thwart Harry Potter. We can certainly do that and be Death Eaters at the same time. In fact, it's probably unavoidable. I promised Narcissa to get the war started again. Well, if I let her run it, she can't complain about me, can she?"

"Of course she can."

"Well, all right. But she can't blame me for everything that goes wrong if she's the boss."

"Don't be too certain."

"Look, don't ruin this all for me just yet, okay, Severus?" Lucius took a breath. "And finally, as a Death Eater, you'll be in a position to take revenge on Lupin and Black. Actually, with Dumbledore gone, Lupin's one of our most formidable adversaries."

Snape snorted. "Even before Dumbledore was gone, as well you know, Malfoy."

"Yes, except most of the wizarding community is too clueless to realize this. There are plenty of well-meaning fools out there who won't trust Lupin simply because of his condition. Especially if we let people like Rita Skeeter write articles about him."

Snape was beginning to smile. "So instead of being a double agent for the Order of the Phoenix, I'll be a double agent for the Death Eaters. Hmm. . . "

"And when we win, we can put all our ideas into laws. Pureblood-only seating sections at restaurants. . . "

"Werewolf hunting season. . . "

"Mandatory Whack-a-Muggle at country fairs. . . "

"Free exorcisms for pesky spirits. . . "

"Indentured servitude for all wizards with Muggle blood ten generations back or less. . . "

"Public floggings. . . "

"Reinstate the death penalty for first offenses. Especially for Mudbloods. . . "

"All Gryffindors forced to wear big red clown noses in public. . . "

"Compulsory showing of The Wizard of Oz every Friday. . . "

Snape frowned at Lucius. "I'm not quite sure I understand that one."

"Just leave it," said Lucius quickly. "So, are you with us or not?"

Snape picked up another piece of clothing.

"No?" asked Lucius, disappointed. "I thought it was the ideal solution."

"I rather like it too, actually," said Snape. He dropped the clothes in his luggage and gave a tight smile. "But I want the werewolf to come round and plead for me to stay first. I think it will be amusing."

"Thatta boy, Severus!"

Ron came shuffling back from his meeting with all the other prefects in Lupin's office. Harry, who had been pacing and letting out agitated little whiffs of gas, practically flew to his side as he entered the Gryffindor common room. "What did Lupin say?" Harry demanded.

Ron set down Hermione, who had been purring against his shoulder, and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Well, he wants to see you," he told Harry.

"Me?" Harry widened his eyes. "Why?"

"He didn't say. He just pulled me aside after the others had left and told me to ask you to come to his office." Ron sat down in one of the squashy, comfortable chairs and took a packet of Peppermint Frogs out of his pocket. "The meeting wasn't about much. He just said we should all pull together -- all the houses, I mean -- and he wasn't going to tolerate nasty behavior at this time. Oh, and we prefects are supposed to keep an eye on the students in our houses for signs of depression and stuff like that. I think. My mind started wandering."

"But you're sure about him wanting to see me?" Harry pressed.

"Yeah," said Ron, "he reminded me twice." Ron swallowed a Frog and squirmed a bit as it began hopping around in his belly. "'Fact, you should probably go now."

Harry pressed his lips together and thought. Unfortunately no ideas came to his head except that he was probably in a lot of trouble, which wasn't any help. "You're sure he didn't say why he wanted to see me?" he asked again.

Ron furrowed his brow. "Umm. . . no."

"No, you don't know why he wants to see me, or no, you're not sure?"

"What's the difference?"

"Do you know why he wants to see me?" Harry burst.

"Oh, yeah!" replied Ron brightly.

Harry took a deep breath. "Why?"

"He wants to talk to you."

Harry screamed 'bah!', banged his head against the hall, and stomped out of the room. Ron followed him with uncomprehending eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the pile of Peppermint Frogs on his lap. A couple of them were croaking. Ron smiled down on them. "Who wants to go next?" he asked cheerfully.

Scrape, scrape, scrape.

Lupin frowned and tried to ignore the irritating sound as he leafed through the papers on his desk. McGonagall had brought them in after the prefects left.

It came again -- scrape, scrape, scrape.

"Sirius, what on earth are you doing?" Lupin demanded, setting his quill down.

"Just a minute," came Sirius's reply, "it's too good to waste."

Scrape, scrape, scrape.

Lupin sighed and rubbed his temples, wishing he hadn't overindulged in firewhiskey the night before his promotion.

Scrape, scrape, scrape. "Ah."

"Finished, are we? Thank goodness."

"Don't be a bitch, Moony. I'm doing this for your sake. Come take a look."

Lupin rolled his eyes, but strolled round his desk and over to his door. His door, newly adorned with flowing gold lettering:

Remus J. Lupin

Headmaster and Werewolf-in-chief

and under that:

Sirius Black

Second-in-Command

Prankster Extraordinaire

And All-Around Cool Guy

Lupin rolled his eyes again. "Flamboyant," he remarked dryly. "But why did it require so much noise? Couldn't you have done it with magic?"

"That wouldn't have been nearly so satisfying." Sirius ran a finger lovingly across the gold script. "I can't wait until Snape sees this."

"I don't know if he will. I've asked him to come see me, but he's probably going to force me to go and beg in person."

Sirius's expression darkened. "Pah. That would be so like him. Are you sure he's worth keeping on, Remus? I'll admit he's a genius with potions, but Adolf Hitler would have been a better teacher."

"I didn't know Hitler taught."

"Well, I don't think he did. But if he had, I'm sure he would have shown his students more patience and understanding than Snape does. And you can't trust him."

"Certainly not," Lupin agreed. "If you don't watch him like a hawk, he'll have the students goose-stepping through the corridors."

"I'm talking about Snape, not Hitler!" Sirius shouted.

"You had me confused."

"Stop trying to be funny, Moony. Anyway, how do you know Snape will keep working for the Order now that Dumbledore's gone?"

"I don't. And that's another reason I want to keep him around. If there's a wasp in the room, I need to be able to see it to swat it." Lupin crossed back to his desk and shuffled through the papers again. "No, I'll plead if he likes. But first, I'll keep him waiting." Lupin flashed a tired grin and sat down.

"Good thinking. So, what's next?" Sirius perched on the edge of the desk.

"I've told Ron to send Harry up here."

"What for?"

"I'm going to confiscate his Invisibility Cloak."

Sirius whistled soundlessly. "You got guts, Remus. Harry will want to kill you for that."

"I imagine I'm on Harry's hit list anyway," said Lupin, rubbing his eyes.

"Probably. And I suppose he'll be less dangerous if he can't creep about the halls at night quite so easily. But still. . . that cloak is his prize possession. He'll fight tooth and nail to keep it."

"Actually, I'm hoping he tears it up in a fit of petulance, like he did with the Firebolt."

Sirius frowned at the memory of the Firebolt. "I'd hate to see James's old cloak destroyed so needlessly."

"So would I. But I hate worse the uses Harry's been putting it to."

"Good point. Perhaps we should burn it after Harry turns it in. Then maybe its spirit will waft back to James."

"That's assuming Invisibility Cloaks have spirits."

"If Hagrid has a spirit, so does that cloak," said Sirius loyally.

"Then you're assuming Harry's going to turn in the cloak without some story about how he ate it or accidentally flushed it down the loo one day."

"I trust your clever little brain to find a way to get it from him." Sirius grinned at Lupin's dismay. "Better get used to it, Headmaster. You're going to have to keep a step ahead of these little brats from now on."

Lupin groaned and put his head to his desk. "I'm just very glad you never had any children, Sirius. I'd hate to responsible for a child of yours."

Sirius shrugged. "I didn't have that much time to knock someone up before Azkaban," he said. "And afterwards, when I was on the lam. . . not much chance for a wham, bam, thank you ma'am, if you know what I mean."

"Vividly." There was a knock on the door. Lupin lifted his head and tried to brush some respectability into his clothes. "That should be Harry."

It was. Harry apparently had taken advantage of the walk over to Lupin's office to shrink in on himself, for he seemed tinier than they remembered. He stood framed in the doorway looking hesitant and very, very young, one finger playing uncertainly round his lower lip. Lupin reminded himself to suggest a career on the stage to the boy. "Thank you for coming, Harry," said Lupin. "Have a seat."

Harry toddled over to a chair and perched in it. His green eyes were still wide and slightly scared. Lupin wouldn't have been at all surprised to see Harry's feet dangling a few inches clear of the floor.

"You're not in any trouble, Harry," Lupin informed him.

"Really?" Harry widened his eyes further, until they seemed in honest danger of falling out behind the lenses of his glasses.

Sirius sniggered.

"Yes, really," said Lupin, choosing to ignore his partner. "I just want to make a request of you."

Harry chewed on a finger. "Wot?"

"I want you to turn in your Invisibility Cloak."

Harry shot out of the chair like a fire had been lit under his bottom. "BAH!!!!"

Lupin held up a hand. "No, I'm serious."

"No, I'm Sirius."

"BAH!!!!" Harry kicked the wall. It shook. Cobwebs and startled spiders came tumbling down.

"Harry. Kindly do not destroy my office."

Harry paid no attention. He took a bite out of the nearest bookcase and then scrabbled at the grindylow's tank, leaving deep furrows in the side. The grindylow took refuge in a pile of seaweed at the bottom of the tank, scared eyes peeping out between the green strands. "The Invisibility Cloak's mine, it is!" Harry screamed. "It's my precious! We wants to keep it, we do!"

Sirius stared over at Lupin, who was watching Harry with mild interest. "What on earth is Harry channeling this time?"

"Inappropriate references," Lupin replied. He raised his voice. "Calm down, Harry. Have a seat."

Harry squatted on the floor instead, the lenses of his glasses flashing like possessed red eyes. "Dumbledore gave us that cloak, he did," Harry hissed. "It was our birthday present."

"It was your Christmas present," Lupin corrected.

"Whatever." Harry went back to being a sulky little boy again, much to the relief of a certain very famous white-clad wizard who had been about to come out of retirement and thwap him one on the ear. "Anyway, Dumbledore gave it to me, and I don't see why I should give it to you."

Lupin regarded Harry a long moment. Sirius watched him closely. He knew that expression. Remus was turning something diabolical over in his head. "The cloak doesn't actually belong to you," Lupin said at last. "It belongs to your father."

"Yeah, so?" Harry kicked at the floor. "Dad's dead."

"No." Lupin was more conversant with Muggle culture than most wizards and realized he should have donned a shiny black helmet and done some heavy breathing to make his next statement more appropriately dramatic. Still. . . "I am your father, Harry."

Harry's mouth fell open. So did Sirius's -- at the sheer audacity of Lupin's scheme. Fortunately, Harry wasn't looking in his godfather's direction. A moment of silence passed. "Dad?" asked Harry weakly, at last. "But. . . that's not possible! Everyone says I look just like you an' I don't!"

Lupin stifled a sigh. Harry was even stupider than he'd suspected. "The real Remus Lupin and I used a Switching Spell sixteen years ago, back when we knew Voldemort planned to attack us. So I am your father James in Lupin's body."

"Oh," said Harry.

"Why?" asked Sirius, who couldn't resist. Lupin flashed him a dirty look.

"It was for extra protection. Lupin, in my body, was going to protect Lily, while I, in his body, was going to patrol the outside."

"Couldn't you have done that in your own bodies?" Sirius asked. Lupin made a private vow to strangle him later.

"It was to deceive Voldemort," Lupin explained patiently. "A little extra protection, along with the Secret-Keeper. We figured if Voldemort got Lupin in my body, it would still be all right. After all, my life was much more important than his, wasn't it?"

"Of course, Daddy! Bah-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Harry was overjoyed. Sirius rolled his eyes. Then Harry had a thought. Lupin hoped he didn't have too many of those. "But. . . why didn't you save Mummy the day Voldemort came to kill me?"

"It was a full moon that night," said Lupin sadly, "and unfortunately, since I was in a werewolf's body, I changed shape. And of course poor Remus was too clumsy a wizard to fend Voldemort off -- "

Sirius hastily turned his laugh into a sneeze. But Harry nodded wisely. It only stood to reason that his father would be a much better wizard than some dumb werewolf. "I understand, Papa," he said.

"Thank you, son." Lupin concealed his grimace well. "So, would you mind giving me back my Invisibility Cloak?"

"Well. . . " Harry chewed on his lip. Wonderful though it was to have his father back, he still adored his cloak.

"I promise to give it to you when you're eighteen," said Lupin.

Harry looked up at Lupin with an expression of childlike trust. "Okay, Daddy," he said. He bounced off his chair and toddled towards the door. "I'll get it now."

"Thank you, Harry. Oh, and one more thing."

Harry paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Bah?"

Please don't say 'bah' again, Lupin thought, but aloud he said: "Don't tell anyone about our relationship. The Death Eaters think I'm dead, you see, and we don't want them to learn the truth."

Harry was slightly disappointed, but he nodded. "I understand." Suddenly, he darted around the desk to give Lupin a very tight, moist hug. "I'm so glad you're back, Daddy."

Lupin gingerly patted his head. "Me too, son. Now run along."

Harry frisked out the door. Lupin slumped into his chair, sighing deeply. Sirius finally let out the laugh that had been threatening to burst free for the past quarter hour. "You, Harry's father!" he chortled. "You -- James! Oh, that's the best one yet!"

"I'm just glad he swallowed it." Lupin frowned. "I'll never understand how Harry builds his attachments. They seem to just spring up out of nowhere."

"You know, it wasn't a full moon that night," said Sirius, his eyes twinkling.

"Of course I know. I think I would have remembered that one. But do you really think Harry will get off his lazy duff long enough to check moon charts?"

"Well, probably not. Still, that story has more holes in it than a fine Swiss cheese. Like, wouldn't you know I was innocent if you were really James?"

"You heroically went to Azkaban to keep my true identity concealed while I searched for Peter."

"And you searched for Peter for thirteen years and never found him?"

"No, I was doing secret work for Dumbledore."

Sirius shook his head. "That weak-ass story wouldn't fool a kumquat," he said.

"Well, isn't it fortunate I don't have to fool a kumquat, then?" Lupin grinned. "I think Harry will buy it, as long as it makes James -- and therefore him -- look good."

"You'd better hope so. Because if Harry finds out you tricked him -- "

"He'll find out on his eighteenth birthday when I don't give the cloak back to him." Lupin stretched, trying to work a kink out of his shoulders. "My biggest fear is that I won't be able to stand him calling me 'Daddy' until then."

"It is something appalling," Sirius agreed. "But what will you do then?"

"Play it by ear and hope for the best," replied Lupin. "Like any good prankster." He checked his watch. "Right -- Snape threatened to resign nearly two hours ago. Time to call his bluff."

Sirius stood too. "Do you want me to come along?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Well, that was vehement." Sirius frowned suspiciously. "You're not going to do anything with him, are you?"

Lupin sighed. "Absolutely not, okay, Sirius? Absolutely not."

"The first one sounded more sincere," Sirius grumbled.

Harry skipped down the hall. How good it was to finally have a daddy! And a headmaster, no less. Maybe when he grew up, he could inherit the position. Harry thought about all the delightful anti-Slytherin rules he could introduce and rubbed his hands together with glee. Oh, he was just the happiest little piggy in the pen today! He capered past Snape's open door, and the Potions Master stuck his head into the corridor and frowned.

"Why is Potter looking like someone just gave him with the biggest pork chop ever cooked?" Snape asked Lucius Malfoy, who had paused in his sweeping to watch the Potter lad as well.

"I don't know," replied Lucius. "I was going to ask if he looked, well. . . littler to you. He is in the sixth year, isn't he?"

Snape took another look at Harry just before he turned a corner and was lost to sight. "Yes, although you never would guess it." He sighed heavily and threw another piece of clothing into his trunk -- for the last half-hour he'd been packing and unpacking. Setting the scene for when Lupin came begging, as it were, although thus far the werewolf hadn't been obliging. Snape checked his watch. "Looks like the bastard isn't going to bother to show after all. Well, if there's no alternative. . . "

"The mountain's going to Mohammed, then?" drawled Lucius.

Snape glowered at the blonde man. "What is it with you Malfoys and that terrible drawling habit? Your son does it too."

"It's to convey our boredom and superiority to the rest of the world," Lucius explained.

"Well, I'd give it a rest. You sound like you're retarded or on drugs or something." Snape stalked out of the room. Lucius scowled after him.

"Some people just don't understand class," he grumbled.

Snape was so irritated by the combination of the morning's events, his conversation with Lucius, and his confusion over Harry's behavior that he wasn't really looking where he was going.

Lupin was so absorbed with his plans for the future, bemused by his sudden rise to headmaster, and amused by the trick he'd played on Harry that he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings.

The two men met in the middle of a hall in a violent crash, collapsing in an awkward tangle of robes and limbs. The only witness was Peeves the poltergeist, who was so delighted that he laughed himself into the nearest painting (one of a smelly, snake-infested bog) and got stuck for the next three weeks. Served him right.

"You clumsy, bumbling -- " Snape started. He bit the words off savagely when he saw who was gazing back at him and settled for rubbing a sore shoulder while glaring mutinously instead.

Lupin sat up with a little difficulty and smiled. "Hello, Severus," he said mildly. "Fancy running into you like this. I was just coming to talk to you. Is this a good time?"

"Your timing," replied Snape acidly, "is as brilliant as ever."