Harry Potter and the Year of Living Stupidly

Chapter Seven

Laughter is the Very Best Medicine (Too Bad No One is Sick)

"So. . . "

"So."

"So. Er. . . more tea, Severus?"

"No thank you."

"How about a touch more vinegar?"

"No." Snape sipped primly from his cup. Lupin sighed, but made another attempt.

"Biscuit?"

"No."

"Very well." Lupin nibbled on a chocolate one himself, although sitting in his office with Snape and pretending to be sociable was making him lose his appetite. "A shame about Dumbledore."

"No, it isn't."

"Certainly it is. Many people will be distressed when they hear the news."

"Too bad for them."

"Some of the students were very upset."

"Some of those students would cry over lint."

Well, this conversational gambit wasn't working either, Lupin decided. Perhaps he simply had to stop trying to be pleasant. "What's bothering you, Sevy?" he whined, switching suddenly to his patented 'Snape voice.' The Potions Master fumbled his cup and glowered in annoyance.

"That's really juvenile behavior for a headmaster."

"And sitting and pouting instead of making an effort is pretty immature too," returned Lupin in normal tones. "I think we've already established that we don't like each other. Can't we try to hate each other in a civilized manner?"

"I can. You're the one who puts on that ridiculous voice. Did you come up with it, or was it Black or Potter?"

"It was me," Lupin admitted. "I came up with the voice and all of the songs. But it was James who dyed your robes pink and Sirius who enchanted your underwear to sing 'I Feel Pretty.'"

"I already guessed that. Black always did enjoy enchanting things to sing ridiculous Muggle songs. Where is he now?" Snape asked suspiciously, glaring about as if he expected to catch sight of Sirius crouched in a corner, cackling softly and casting malicious spells.

"Well, I know how. . . erm, well you two get along, so I sent him out to talk with Professor Binns. Ghost to ghost, you know, except Sirius isn't exactly a ghost -- "

"Are you getting rid of Professor Binns?" Snape inquired, a gleam of interest finally coming into his eyes.

"Absolutely. There's no reason for History of Magic to be so damned dull. I have no idea why that old bore was hired in the first place, let alone allowed to continue teaching after he'd died."

"Dumbledore was too cheap to hire a new professor," Snape smirked. "He used the money that would have gone towards Binns's salary to buy hair tonic."

"I see." Lupin sighed and flipped quickly through the papers dealing with Hogwarts' budget. "Yes, I see. Hair tonic and. . . anchovies? I know Dumbledore liked anchovies, but. . . "

"It takes a lot of anchovies to make one's breath that fishy," said Snape. "So I gather you'll be making a lot of changes in the staff?"

"Have to," said Lupin. "Flitwick is resigning after this year. I hope to get rid of Binns at once. I'm striking Divination altogether, although perhaps I'll keep it as an elective, since some students seem to enjoy it. I also must admit I'm slightly irritated by the idea of Muggle Studies. I mean, for heaven's sake, it's not like they're another species. Perhaps if we called it 'Muggle Science' or 'Science and Technology' or something -- "

"And Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Snape interrupted, not having the slightest interest in Muggle-oriented courses. "You won't have time to teach it, will you?"

" -- I mean, I can't help but think our students would benefit from knowing how to use telephones and typewriters. And ballpoint pens, goodness, yes. Quills are such a nuisance, don't you agree, Severus?"

"I want to know what you intend to do about Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Lupin sighed. "Ignoring the question isn't going to work, is it? Severus, I want you to continue teaching Potions."

"And what about what I want?"

"I hope you want to continue teaching Potions too."

"Well, I don't. I want to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"But you're excellent at Potions," Lupin pointed out quietly. "You got 'Outstanding' on both your OWLs and NEWTs in Potions. I beat you in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"But you're not going to have time to teach Defense against the Dark Arts."

"No, but Nymphadora Tonks is."

Snape glowered. "Nymphadora. . . Tonks?"

"She's an Auror, Severus. Don't act like she's some sort of ninny who can't handle the job. I admit I was thinking of Mad-Eye Moody, but I decided I didn't want the students living in a constant state of paranoia."

"But you didn't think of me."

Lupin clasped his hands on his knee and looked directly at Snape. "I want the best possible teachers for every subject. You're the best potion-brewer I know. I want you to stay in that position."

Snape crossed his arms. "I refuse."

Lupin sighed. "I'll give you a raise."

"Mn."

"And I'll allow you to teach an elective course on curses, if you like. With the understanding that students are not allowed to practice them on one another outside of class."

"Well. . ." Snape pretended to think about it. He'd already made up his mind to stay, of course, but he wondered if he could finagle the DADA job out of Lupin if he pressed hard enough. "I still think I could do a better job than Tonks."

The werewolf kept his face neutral. While he was ready to admit Snape was excellent with curses, his opinion of the rest of Snape's DADA skills was not so high. Lupin had never forgotten how he'd laughed when he'd heard that Snape had told a student that kappas were found in Mongolia. "I've already offered the job to Tonks," he said.

"Oh, have you?" Snape sneered. "Useful to be sleeping with you, I see."

"And I'm going to talk to Bill Weasly about taking on Charms," continued Lupin, ignoring the last comment. "Quite good at charms, Bill. We'll miss Flitwick, of course, but I think he'll be happy at Swiftswish."

"You really do have your plans all worked out. How many more of your lovers do you intend to hire?"

Lupin smiled. "Well, you of course, Severus."

Snape's lips thinned to a tight line. "I am not one of your conquests, Lupin."

"No?" asked Lupin sweetly. "Well, I guess our relationship did kind of get cut off before anything could develop. But the intention was there, was it not?"

"I don't want to discuss it, and if you say another word on the subject, I'll walk right out that door," Snape snarled, slamming down his teacup. It shattered.

"Never mind; I just Transfigured it from a passing beetle anyway," Lupin shrugged.

"Glad to see you learned something in McGonagall's class." Snape wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand, although he'd Transfigured much nastier objects into cups before. "Back on subject, I take it there's no chance of you letting me have the DADA job?"

"None," replied Lupin. He watched Snape calmly.

"And I take it there's no point in my applying for the job year after year?"

"Well, if it gives you pleasure to do so, by all means continue," Lupin shrugged. "But if you're asking if you'll ever get the job while I'm headmaster, the answer is no."

"You might not be headmaster for very long," said Snape grimly. "The Ministry is not going to like having a werewolf in power. Many parents won't want a werewolf teaching their children. We could lose students on account of you."

Lupin sniffled and dabbed at his eyes. "You're hurting my feelings."

"Oh, don't start that. It's really obnoxious."

"Now he thinks I'm obnoxious." Lupin's lower lip wobbled and he managed a couple of tears. "He's so mean to me I can't stand it!"

"Lupin. . . " said Snape between gritted teeth.

"Hello, yes? Are we done with this charade yet? Are you going to keep your job and accept the lovely perks I've offered you? Mind you, I'm not even requiring that you wash your hair. If you think you can do better elsewhere, go right ahead and leave. But remember. . . " Lupin leaned forward. "I know about your tattoo magazines. And your yo-yo. And. . . " he paused for emphasis. "Your ukulele."

Snape was horrified, although he quickly covered it. "What ukulele?" he asked, scowling.

"The one you play in the dungeons after most reasonable folk are trying to sleep. I have excellent hearing, Snape. Comes with my condition."

"So glad there are benefits to being a lycanthrope," Snape sneered. "Well, what of it? Are you blackmailing me?"

"Oh, I might not go through with it." Lupin leaned back in his chair and poured more tea into his cup. "I don't want to keep you around that badly. But I know the thought will haunt you if you leave."

"Who'd have ever thought a Gryffindor could be so cunningly spiteful?" said Snape with reluctant admiration. "Perhaps you should have been a Slytherin."

"The hat did consider it," Lupin admitted.

"I could retaliate, you know."

"With what? I'm not as painfully proud as you are, Severus. I only had the one big secret, and it's out now -- thanks to you, I might add."

"Oh, I believe you have one or two more."

They stared at each other a while, each refusing to be the first to look away. Flashes of Legilimency and Occlumency flew across the room as each tried to wear down the other's defenses. Professor Sprout wandered in to ask Lupin a question and got caught in the crossfire. She staggered out of the room croaking softly, a dazed smile on her lips. She was eventually found squatting in a pond and trying to catch flies with her tongue and had to be taken in to Madame Pomfrey.

At last Lupin smiled without breaking eye contact. "Yes, I have other secrets. But I really don't think they'd bother me as much as letting slip the yo-yo secret would bother you. Are you still using that bright yellow one? And did you ever manage 'Around the World?'"

Snape ground his teeth. "I want to start receiving my raise immediately."

"Your contract states -- " Snape glared, and Lupin broke off with a heavy sigh. "Oh, very well. You can have your raise. What, did a new tattoo magazine come out that you're just dying to subscribe to?"

"Lupin. I have pictures of you from when you had your hair red and spiky."

Lupin turned paler, then smiled. "Aw, Severus, if you wanted a photo of me, I could have given you a much nicer one. I looked a fright with my hair dyed red."

"Yes, I know. I was just thinking if the Daily Prophet wanted to print some old pictures of you when they did their article on the new headmaster. . . "

"I think we understand each other, Severus." Lupin held out a hand. Snape ignored it.

"I'll stay, Lupin. Just don't expect me to be cheerful about it."

"I promise I shall not," Lupin replied gravely, taking back his hand. "Thank you, Severus."

Snape stood. "If that is all -- "

Lupin held up a finger. "Actually, there's one more thing."

Snape paused to make certain Lupin wasn't flipping him off before sitting down again, slowly. "What is it?" he asked warily.

"Nothing to do with you, per se." Lupin picked up his cup and turned it around in his hands as if he was trying to find the right words for what he wanted to say. At last he lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Harry Potter was roaming the halls in his Invisibility Cloak last night," he said.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "So what else is new?"

"Well, I was with Sirius and Tonks. And we were drunk."

"That is not new."

"No, I just said that to annoy you, actually. Well, my point is, the corridor he was in led right to Dumbledore's office."

Now both Snape's eyebrows shot up. "You think Harry Potter killed Dumbledore."

"I should just say that I find the timing suspicious." But Lupin nodded. "Yes, I think Harry killed Dumbledore. I don't have a shred of proof, however."

"We can change that." Snape fished around in his robes, held up a small vial. "Veritaserum. We can have Potter spilling all his secrets in seconds."

"And then what?"

Snape blinked. "Pardon?"

Lupin regarded him. "I said, and then what? We give Harry the Veritaserum and he admits he murdered Dumbledore."

"Well, he gets expelled from Hogwarts. Probably ends up in Azkaban. . ." Snape trailed off as he saw what Lupin was getting at. "The dementors are dead."

"Yes. Azkaban won't hold Harry for a day. And he'll be furious -- with me for expelling him and with you for making the Veritaserum. And he doesn't like you anyway, Severus."

"And he's a vengeful little shite."

"A vengeful little shite with a vault full of gold. James and Lily accumulated a pile and Sirius left every cent of his worldly goods to him." Lupin said this last with the bitterness of a man who still feels the shock of betrayal. "He'll be able to buy whatever he wants -- including followers."

"He probably won't have to," said Snape, eyes darkening. "Some people won't believe the famous Harry Potter is capable of murder, no matter how strong the proof."

"And he's in his sixth year. He's learned some damned dangerous spells. He's powerful enough to be a threat on his own."

Snape rubbed his chin tiredly. "So, in short, if we expose Potter, we might well have a new and completely dangerous form of Death Eaters on our hands. In a manner of speaking. I suppose he could call his followers Pig Eaters."

"That's the worst case scenario I can think of," agreed Lupin. "But even in the best, I can't imagine Harry not trying to take revenge. And I don't want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder."

"That's cowardly for a Gryffindor."

"Are you saying you don't mind waiting for Harry to learn Avada Kedavra and come after you?" Lupin demanded.

"Of course not. But I'm a Slytherin."

The werewolf sighed. "Contrary to the popular stereotype and all Draco Malfoy has done to perpetuate it, not all Slytherins are cowards. Nor are all Gryffindors foolhardy. Stop being difficult, Severus. I'm just asking you if you truly believe the Veritaserum course is the best one."

"What's the alternative? Sit back and allow Potter to get away with murder? Don't you think if he gets away with it once he'll try it again. . . " Snape trailed off yet again. He reminded himself not to make a habit of it. "That's right," he muttered, "I'd forgotten. . . "

Lupin cocked his head. "Forgotten what?"

"We first assumed Hagrid's death was caused by his own stupidity. But that wasn't the case. You see, Harry already got away with it once."

"Oh, my." Lupin ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. "I must admit I haven't given a second thought to Hagrid's demise. You have proof?"

"Possibly. One of the Malfoys' house elves sent a warning through Narcissa. He might be willing to speak up in court, but how much his testimony would. . . what?" Lupin was shaking his head again.

"That leads us right back to the question of whether to persecute Harry or not. And if he is convicted, how is he going to be punished?"

"He's committed murder. Send him through the Veil to be with his beloved godfather."

"One, he's a minor. Two, do you really want him hanging around the way Sirius does?"

"At least he won't be able to kill anyone," Snape argued. "I think that's how it works, right?"

"As far as I can tell, Sirius is more like Peeves than like the ghosts -- "

"Fitting."

" -- He can touch and move things that don't have a will of their own. But with people. . . they kind of have to agree to let him touch them or he can't." Lupin waved a hand. "I don't know exactly how it works and Sirius is cagey with the details. But I still don't believe we can get away with putting Harry Potter on trial. Especially since he's the only one who can defeat Lord Voldemort."

"Voldemort's an ass."

"We'll have to prove it before everyone stops worrying about him. Hell, Severus, most people are too scared to say his name."

"So let Lord V. speak at Harry's trial. As soon as they hear that Kermit the Frog-esque voice, they'll stop fearing him."

"The Ministry is hardly going to allow Voldemort to testify against Harry Potter. And if they did, Harry would be sure to be acquitted, because like it or not, most people are more scared of Voldemort than Harry."

"The more fools they."

"True, but it still means we can't expect to win a trial."

"So what do you suggest we do?"

Lupin studied the ceiling. "I suppose it's up to us to watch over Harry from now on."

"Us?" Snape repeated. This was sounding like déjà vu. Bad déjà vu.

"Yes. At least until he graduates. Possibly for our entire lives. . . unless. . . unless the Voldemort problem is taken care of."

"What do you mean?" Snape asked. There was a gleam in Lupin's eyes he couldn't recall having ever seen before, although Sirius would have recognized it.

"If only we could get rid of them both. . . At the same time, mind you."

Snape's jaw sagged. "Are you -- you, a Gryffindor -- suggesting that we. . . assassinate Potter and Voldemort?"

"No. Oh, no." Lupin shook his head. "No, I don't want to kill them. I want them to kill each other."

Snape also shook his head, honestly amazed. "Lupin, you're mad. What you're proposing is even more difficult than convicting Harry Potter. You're talking about staging a duel between those two eejits!"

"The more public the better," Lupin agreed. "And when the dust clears. . . the real work can begin."

"You mean, the Order of the Phoenix versus the Death Eaters?"

"Exactly. You're still in contact with the D.E.s, I presume?"

"Don't call them the D.E.s. Yes, I am."

"Excellent. Do you think we can call a truce long enough to hold a meeting to hear my proposal?"

Snape smirked. "Certainly. I can't wait to see the looks on everyone's faces when they hear this scheme of yours. Remus J. Lupin plotting to kill Harry Potter!"

"Remus J. Lupin plotting to have Voldemort kill Harry Potter," Lupin corrected.

"Fool yourself as long as you like, werewolf." Snape stood. "How does Friday sound?"

"Friday would be excellent."

Snape paused at the door. "You keep using that word. I don't think it means what you think it means."

"Good one, Severus!" exclaimed Lupin, impressed. "Now, if only you'd used a patently bogus Spanish accent. . ."

"I'll practice it for next time." *

* * * * *

After Snape left, Lupin swept up the broken remains of the shattered teacup, humming to himself. He threw the shards in the rubbish bin and forgot all about them. It would have been really ironic if the beetle that the teacup had been Transfigured from was Rita Skeeter, poking around Lupin's office for some juicy gossip. But it wasn't. She was down the hall talking to Professor Sinistra. It was just an ordinary brown beetle Lupin had Transfigured, so forget all about that plot point. Pity -- it might have been interesting.

* * * * *

Ron burped a hearty peppermint burp as the last Frog finally gave up the struggle for existence in his belly. He rubbed his stomach and glanced around the common room, feeling slightly bored.

He heard a rustling behind him. Ron frowned and cast a glance over his shoulder, but there was nothing there except for an extremely large, completely unsuspicious potted plant. Which seemed to be giggling softly. But as Ron had never paid very close attention in Herbology, he simply assumed it was a variety that was supposed to giggle and went back to gazing idly across the room.

Rustle, rustle, rustle.

Ron dug a finger into his ear. The noise stopped. Satisfied, he wiped his finger clean on his robes and began sniffing the empty Peppermint Frog wrapper. Perhaps he could blow it up and pop it. He inhaled.

Rustle, rustle, rustle.

This was really getting irritating. Ron turned around and glared. But there was still nothing there except for the plant. It was a good deal closer to him than it had been before, true, but perhaps it was a type of plant that did that. He faced front again.

Rustle, rustle, rustle.

"All right, who's -- "

Ron didn't get any further than that before something wet and heavy thumped him on the head. As he lay on the floor seeing stars, one familiar voice cackled "Surprise!" while a second -- also familiar, and indeed very similar to the first -- howled "Funny!"

As the stars cleared, Ron peered dimly up at the two figures exulting over him. One was waving a very large dead fish in the air. "Fred and George?" Ron asked, knowing even as he said the names that it could be no other than they -- purveyors of the lamest practical jokes ever to be played at Hogwarts.

"Hi, there, little brother," said Fred genially. He extended a hand to help Ron up. Of course it was a fake hand, so that when Ron took hold, Fred released it, sending Ron tumbling on his rump again. The twins doubled over with laughter.

"What are you two doing here?" Ron asked, deciding it was safer to stay on the floor until they chose a new victim.

"We heard Dumbledore died, so we came to pay a visit," shrugged George, twirling his fish.

Ron's brow wrinkled. It didn't seem a very good reason for a visit, but then, logic had never been the twins' strong suit. Nor brains. Nor hygiene. "That's nice," he said, hoping neither of them would catch the utter lie. They didn't.

"Plus we wanted some test subjects for our latest snackbox," added Fred happily, holding up a bag. "This is a whole new line."

"Oh?" asked Ron. "What do they do?"

"Well, there are Choking Choccies, Lemony Landmines, Methane Mints, B.O. Bon-bons, Eye-Popping Pastilles, and Bladder-Buster Beans," George explained proudly. "These sweets are meant to fool those hard-nosed teachers that won't let you out of class just for a little nosebleed or nausea."

Ron sniffed the air. "You've been testing the B. O. Bon-bons yourself, haven't you?"

"Yeah, an earlier variety. The new ones are much stronger."

"Want to try something?" George offered. "A B.O. Bon-bon?"

"A Bladder-Buster Bean?"

"A Methane Mint?"

"What do they do?" asked Ron in a tone of voice that promised nothing.

"They make you do such a long, hard, smelly fart that your teacher -- and most of your classmates -- faint -- "

"-- Or sometimes expire -- "

"-- Giving you time to sneak away and pursue the activity of your choice."

Ron pondered. That didn't sound so bad. But with Fred and George there was always a catch. "What are the side effects?" he asked.

"Well, thus far, death," said Fred, shrugging.

"Death?" exclaimed Ron, horrified.

"Yeah. Your colon ruptures. But we think we've got it fixed. Go on, try one." He shook the bag. Ron backed away.

"No thanks."

"Well, how about an Eye-Popping Pastille?"

Ron didn't have to think about that one. "No."

"A Choking Choccie?"

"How badly do they make you choke?"

"Well, until you die, thus far," said George apologetically. "But we think we got it fixed." The bag was held out again.

"I just ate a bunch of Peppermint Frogs," Ron told them.

"Well, at least try a Lemony Landmine."

Ron sighed. "And what do they do?"

"Make your head explode." Fred grinned. "No teacher in the world is going to ignore that one."

Ron was not the brightest berry on the bush, but even he could point out the fallacy in the twins' so-called logic. "I don't think I could ignore it either if my head exploded."

"Oh, it's all right," said George. "There's another sweet to put your head back together. You just pop it in your mouth after you've been taken to hospital."

"Uh-huh." Ron could point out the fallacy in that too. "No thanks, guys."

"Oh, well. There a lot of other students here." Fred turned his attention to the common room at large, but it was curiously empty. Or perhaps not so curiously -- people had a habit of leaving as soon as the twins turned up. "Where is everybody?"

"Well, Dumbledore just died and Headmaster Lupin told us to spend the day in uh. . . " Ron tried to remember the hard words. "Spend the day in quiet reflection. So I guess they're doing that."

Fred and George exchanged a glance of bewildered stupidity. "They're all off looking in mirrors?"

"I don't think he meant that kind of reflection." Ron was a little confused himself. He wasn't sure there was another kind of reflection.

"Where's Harry?" asked George, idly twirling the large, dead fish. It was beginning to smell mightily.

"He had to go see Professor Lupin, and when he came back, he went straight up to the dorm." Now that Ron thought about it, that was odd. He'd tried speaking to Harry, but Harry had brushed right past him as if he didn't exist. Yet Harry hadn't seemed mad -- if anything, he'd seemed dazed with happiness.

"Well, let's go say hello to him, shall we?" asked Fred with a sly, sidelong glance at his twin. George grinned just as eagerly and gave the fish another meaningful twirl.

"Oh, don't -- " Ron began, but the twins had already set off up the stairs. They probably wouldn't have minded him anyway. Ron debated a moment. If he let Fred and George smack Harry in the head with a smelly fish, Harry would be hostile, spiteful, and vengeful for at least a week. But at least he'd probably take his wrath out on the twins.

Probably. But he might just as well blame Ron for not stopping them before they could do it. Ron hesitated unhappily a moment longer, then dashed up the steps. Fortunately, the twins were going slowly and quietly. "Look, don't -- " he began, but Fred cut him off.

"Shh. Harry's doing something."

"Oh?" Ron peered over Fred's shoulder and caught a look of the Boy Who Lived rummaging around in his chest of belongings. He was still smiling to himself.

Curious now, Ron crept silently behind Fred and George. Harry was so wrapped up in what he was doing that he didn't notice a thing, even when they were right behind him. George raised his fish, but Ron caught his arm before the blow could fall. "What are you doing, Harry?" he asked, louder than was necessary -- but he knew that if he didn't catch Harry's attention right off, George would fish him and he, Ron, would get blamed for it.

Harry jumped, hastily stuffing the whatever-it-was into a pocket. "Nothing," he replied in a tone of deep guilt. Unfortunately for him, the whatever-it-was was too bulky to fit into his pocket. It drooped out over the edge, allowing all three of Harry's interrogators to see that it was, in fact, Harry's prized Invisibility Cloak.

"What are you doing with your cloak, Harry?" Ron asked. "Surely you're not going to go sneaking off at a time like this?"

"Errrr. . . " Harry's mouth went down-turned and stupid and he twiddled with his wand. "Errrr. . . I might want it later?"

George raised the fish eagerly, but Ron caught his arm again. "You should put it in a bag or something, Harry."

"Or give it to us," offered Fred, visions of Great Pranks to Come clearly dancing in his eyes. "We'll buy it from you. How does five Sickles sound?"

Rom muffled a snort. Five Sickles sounded dirt cheap. He'd have saved up his allowance for the past few months if he'd ever suspected Harry would sell it for such a price.

But to everyone's vast surprise, Harry hesitated. He was already regretting his promise to give Lupin the cloak. As he'd sat there letting the silky fabric slide through his fingers, he'd remembered all the lovely larks he'd had after hours with the aid of this cloak. Going to Honeyduke's to gorge himself silly. Slipping to the Slytherin common room to replace all the pillow-stuffing with boiled yams. Sneaking a fresh Fluffy turd into Snape's office. And of course the recent memorable occasion when he'd murdered Dumbledore.

He had no intention of selling the cloak to the twins -- especially so cheaply -- but he was thinking, possibly, could he lend it? He took another look at Fred's covetous face and knew it would never do. Once the cloak was placed into the twins' sticky hands, he'd never see it again.

"Sorry, guys," he said at last, "But I've got to hand it in to Da-- Lupin. He doesn't want me causing trouble right now, I guess."

Ron's mouth formed an 'O' of horror. Fred and George, however, were indignant. "Not cause trouble?" Fred exclaimed. "Why it's every lad's right to cause trouble! What is school for if not for playing merry rollicking pranks?" George nodded vehement agreement. That was certainly what their schooling had entailed -- if maiming your fellow students fell into the category of 'merry rollicking pranks', that is.

"I guess it's because Dumbledore just died," Harry hedged. "I suppose Lupin wants everyone to be good until he can get the whole business sorted out."

"Until what's sorted out?" demanded Fred, who when it came to anything other than pranks displayed a startling lack of imagination (actually when it came to pranks as well). "Can't they just dump the old sod in a ditch and be done with it?"

"I don't think it works like that," Harry explained patiently. "There needs to be a proper funeral and grave and everything."

"Well. . . it's still a poor excuse for swiping your Invisibility Cloak," griped George, dragging the conversation back to what he felt was the correct topic. "Hand it over to us and we'll take care of it for you."

"Lupin promised he'd give it back to me when I graduate," Harry protested, which wasn't the strictest truth -- but the truth was too precious to throw in front of the likes of Fred and George.

"Yeah, but you can't trust teachers," said Fred darkly, choosing to overlook the fact that no one could trust him either, not even George.

"I'll get in trouble if I don't," snapped Harry. Oddly enough, this conversation was serving only to strengthen his resolve to turn the cloak in.

Fred and George sighed in unison, but it was not a sigh of defeat. "Poor Harry," said Fred sympathetically. "They're getting to you."

"Whot?" asked Harry, confused.

"They're making a goody-goody out of you. All those lovely, impish young teenage urges are just seeping away."

Harry blushed crimson. "Don't you talk of my teenage urges, mate."

"You're right, Fred," said George, shaking his head. "I mean, turning in an Invisibility Cloak without a word of defiance. . . "

"It's not natural. I mean, it's only the greatest magical aid to prankster-dom ever invented."

"Except for perhaps the Marauder's Map. Whatever happened to the map, Harry?"

"My godfather has it." The Twins exchanged looks, clicked their tongues and sighed deeply. "Whot?" asked Harry, nettled. "He wrote it. Him and Lupin and my father and that bloke Peter Pettigrew. I couldn't exactly say 'no, piss off,' now, could I?"

"We could have," said George.

"That's because you don't need to worry about getting expelled," Harry pointed out.

"Didn't know you cared either," said Fred, idly itching a buttock. "It's not so bad."

"Hey!" exclaimed George in the tone of one who has just had a brilliant idea. Since this was patently impossible, Fred, Harry, and Ron all stared at him.

"What?" asked Fred.

George beamed. "We could re-enroll!"

Ron choked. "Re-enroll? Why?"

George put a 'helpful older brother' arm around Ron while Fred did likewise to Harry. "Because it's clear that the two of you are losing your touch. Going soft, as it were. All this being made a prefect and now handing in Invisibility Cloaks. They'll make respectable citizens of you if you're not careful. You need someone around who'll remind you of the higher path in life."

"And that's you, is it?" asked Ron, blinking and wishing George would move away. The residue of the B.O. Bon-bons was horrifying evident up close.

"That's right," said Fred, slapping Harry on the back. "We'll be your guides on the proper prankster's path to life."

"But don't we want to become respectable citizens and graduate so we can get good jobs and not live in a hovel all our lives?" Ron pleaded. Ron had a personal stake in the matter. Until he was six and Arthur Weasly's dissolute brother Morton had finally moved out of their house, he'd had to live in the pigsty. Probably why Harry had been so instantly endeared to him. But Fred and George shook their heads and clicked their tongues again.

"Clearly the wrong attitude," said Fred sadly.

"Completely."

"And our own brother, too. It's so -- "

" -- Disheartening."

"We arrived not a moment too soon."

"We have not a moment to lose."

Harry had been watching Ron and the twins quietly. Now he cast off Fred's arm and, taking the crumpled Invisibility Cloak from his pocket, shook the creases out of it. The twins looked hopeful, but Harry merely folded the cloak into a tidy square and shoved it into his pocket again -- deeply, in case Fred or George tried to nick it. "I highly doubt Lupin's going to allow you back into Hogwarts," he said calmly, having attracted all their attention.

The twins blinked. "Oh?"

"Why not?"

Because he's not a moron -- Harry stifled the words. Instead, he said: "Because he's told everyone he doesn't want trouble and you two are trouble. With a capital 'T' and lots of underlining."

The twins grinned delightedly and idiotically.

"Besides, you were good and righteously expelled. You wrecked nearly an entire wing of the castle right before you left. I'm not sure Lupin could let you back in, even if he wanted." Which I daresay he doesn't, Harry added mentally.

"But we'll be as good as gold!"

"And better!"

"You'd better be," said Ron, "'cause Lupin told us prefects to take points off people who misbehave right now, an' I don't want to do that."

"You wouldn't do that to your own brothers, would you?"

Harry cynically waited for Ron to say 'Yes, I would!' But Ron had the spine of a tubeworm and merely wriggled uncomfortably. So Harry said it for him. "Yes, he would. I'd make sure of it."

Fred and George assumed identical hurt expressions. It was spoiled by one of them farting. Harry sighed impatiently. If they wanted to continue with this nonsense, it was all the same to him. The twins were as dumb as a potato that believes it can grow legs and walk, but they'd learned early and painfully that Harry would give back as good as he got. Therefore, they generally left him alone. "Fine, suit yourselves," he said indifferently. "If you want to come alone with me when I give the cloak to Lupin and put your case before him, be my guest."

"When are you going, Harry?"

"Why, right now, actually. Are you coming?"

The twins grinned again. "We'd be delighted."

"Leave the fish behind. It stinks."

George looked disappointed. "But I was gonna thump Lupin with it if he didn't agree to let us back in."

"In that case, definitely leave it behind!"

Fred and George hastily ate it, and then were all ready to go. Harry stood and watched them, wondering how two people could be so tremendously stupid without forgetting how to breathe or accidentally swallowing their own heads.

* * * * *

Sirius entered Lupin's office to the bright sound of whistling. "You're looking cheerful, Remus. Still could use a long nap, a massage, and perhaps a detoxification, but cheerful."

"It's full moon in a couple nights, remember?" replied Lupin, chucking the last piece of the broken teacup into the rubbish bin. "I rarely look my best right before it."

"True. You always look rather pale and stressed-out right before the full moon. And right after it, you generally look like you were dragged across the moor by one foot while simultaneously being beaten with a sack of wet oatmeal. Oh, and you don't look too hot in the middle of the month either, when you're drinking too much to celebrate there not being a full moon in sight."

"Ha, ha. And I suppose you think you look like a film star rather than a man who's been run over by a pack of dementors driving a tank?"

Sirius looked confused. "How could dementors drive a tank? Wouldn't they get their robes wet? And how would they fit wheels on it in the first place?"

Lupin closed his eyes in pain. "A military tank, not a water tank. Honestly, I wish you'd taken Muggle Studies."

"I thought you objected to that course."

"No, just to its name. Actually, I'm firmly convinced all wizards should learn how the majority of humanity lives. They get by very well without magic, you know."

"Do they?" said Sirius disinterestedly.

"Don't come over all pureblooded on me. You wouldn't even know what a ballpoint pen was if it wasn't for me."

"I remember how James laughed the first time you showed him one," said Sirius, reminiscently.

"Until I showed him how much easier it was to write with."

"But Professor-what's-his-name wouldn't accept your work anyway. Made you do it all over again with a quill. James laughed then too."

"Well, that rule is going to change," said Lupin, scowling at the memory.

"Wonder how it became a rule in the first place."

"Dumbledore thought quills were. . . how did he put it? 'Groovier,' I believe." Lupin wrinkled up his nose in disgust. "Oh, and a lot of pureblood parents didn't want their precious offspring being tainted by Muggle artifacts. Honestly, every time I begin to think that side possesses a lick of sense, they pull some crap like that one."

"Won't they complain if you revoke the rule, then?"

"No," answered Lupin, a sly smile twitching the corner of his mouth. "I'll simply amend the rule to say a student can use either. Then their children will start complaining when the ones who are using pens finish their homework in half the time it's taking them, but stiff biscuits." There was a knock on the door. "That'll be Harry with the cloak. Come in!" he called.

The door swung open and Harry was there. To their relief, he appeared his proper age and size again. "Hello Da-- Headmaster Lupin," he said, and his voice was less earsplitting than it usually was too, "I brought the cloak."

"Thank you, Harry," replied Lupin. "Come on in and have a biscuit."

Harry ran in eagerly and began cramming his mouth and pockets full of them, banishing any illusion of newfound maturity. "Can we have some too?" called a voice from the hall.

Lupin's brow wrinkled. "I know that voice." Although I pray that I'm wrong. Please let me be wrong! "Fred Weasly?"

"No, George." A stocky red-haired figure stepped into the light, looking hurt. "Honestly, call yourself our mother and not know that?"

There was a long pause. A long, unamused pause. "I have never called myself your mother, George Weasly," said Lupin coldly.

The twin grinned broadly. "I was only pullin' your leg! I am Fred, really!" Fred cackled and George jumped out of the shadows yelling "Funny!"

Sirius knocked his head against the desk. "Send them away, Remus," he pleaded in muffled tones. "I can't stand stupid pranksters."

"I have every intention of doing so." Lupin eyed the twins until his obvious displeasure sank even into their thick skulls and they began squirming. "What are you two doing here?"

"We. . . we want to. . . " George whispered feebly.

". . . re-enroll." finished Fred.

"I didn't quite catch that," said Lupin, who in fact had, and was hoping he could scare them into a heart attack before he had to acknowledge their request.

"They want to re-enroll," said Harry around a mouthful of buttery chocolate goodness, spraying crumbs over every surface in sight. Lupin winced.

"No effin' way!" snarled the Second-in-Command and All-Round-Cool-Guy, lifting his head from the desktop. Much as he appreciated the sentiment, Lupin waved him down and addressed the twins.

"Why do you two want to re-enroll? Last I heard, you were running an eminently successful joke shop somewhere. Were wearing flashy green pimp coats, last I saw."

"They were made of dragon hide," said Fred sulkily.

"Finest quality," added George. "Expensive as hell."

"Tacky as hell too. Lime green does not go well with red hair. But I don't care -- it's your money. My question is, why would you leave a successful business doing what you like best to come back to Hogwarts?"

The twins thought furiously. One could almost watch the frantic search for an excuse Lupin would believe racing about in their all-but-empty skulls. But the silence dragged on. In the meantime, nose twitching, Lupin went to a window and stuck his head out, gratefully breathing air not tainted by odors of ancient fish and B.O. bon-bons.

"'Cause we want to," said Fred at last.

"Yeah, for our, for our -- our self-esteem, like!" blurted George.

Lupin pulled his head back in and stared at them. "Pardon me, but that's the best you can come up with? You want to? For your self-esteem?"

Seeing they had failed to impress him, the twins lapsed into frantic thought again. Lupin shook his head. "Don't bother," he told them. "The answer is no."

Harry giggled, spraying yet more crumbs and looking triumphant. Sirius let out a sigh of relief and straightened. The twins drooped.

"Go back to your joke shop. I'm sure you'll have quite a nice life making. . . erm, funny things to sell. There's no reason why. . . Who's making that sound?"

For the noise of a small cough had interrupted him. Everyone looked around, baffled, and Lupin was just about to chalk it up to some vague jest of the twins when Sirius nudged him and pointed to a portrait.

Someone had moved Phineas Nigellus's picture to Lupin's office. And he was back. "Do forgive my intrusion," he purred, stroking his thin black beard, "but I feel it is my duty to inform you that the decision does not rest with you."

"What?" Lupin was taken aback. "Surely the headmaster -- "

"Ah, you'd think so, but there's an archaic rule regarding expulsion." Phineas settled himself more comfortably in his chair and smirked. "You see, my dear werewolf, when a student is expelled, they must petition the one who expelled them in order to overturn their expulsion. Now, normally that would be the headmaster, but in this particular case. . . "

The twins were beginning to grin. "You didn't expel us. So you can't say whether we can come back or not!" they chorused.

"Dolores Umbridge expelled you. Do you think she's going to allow you to return?" Lupin shook his head. "I'd just give it up, boys."

"No!" yelled Fred or George -- Lupin had lost track of which was which -- stubbornly.

Phineas examined his fingernails. "Well, if they won't give it up, I'm afraid you're going to have to invite Ms. Umbridge over here. All hearings for expulsions must take place in Hogwarts. Rule seventy-three, section D, I believe."

"All right!!!" The twins slapped hands. Sirius banged his head on the table again, harder this time. "Dolores Umbridge -- here as a guest? Why, oh why did you have to poke your nose in, Great-great-granddad? -- Remus, where are you going?"

"To see if Snape still wants the damned headmaster's job!" Lupin snapped.

Sirius jumped up and grabbed him by the collar of his faded robes and wrestled him back into the room. Fred and George cavorted while Harry glared at them with beady green eyes. Phineas Nigellus smiled to himself as he settled down for a nap. Life was promising to be much more interesting now that that old fool Dumbledore was gone.

* It might seem surprising that both Lupin and Snape were fans of The Princess Bride. But actually, they liked it for different reasons. Lupin enjoyed it for its humor and for the relationship between Wesley and Buttercup. Snape liked the R.O.U.S.s. He wanted one for a pet.