Nobody ever asked my birthday

Chapter 43

Harry Potter fairly flew through the dungeons, enjoying his longer stride - he remembered when he'd really had to run to keep up this pace. Suddenly, he jerked to a halt, wondering if he looked at all like Snape - and then, right on the heels, whether he cared. Nodding firmly, he decided he did care. And started skipping through the halls. There, that was better, wasn't it? Just the thing to get himself in trouble too. He'd have to make a habit of it.*

Harry Potter breezed by Filius Flitwick, who was so small he often ran in the corridors (and somehow never mowed anyone down), so he rarely cared about others doing it. Exiting Prof. McGonagall's quarters, Headmaster Dumbledore broke out in a broad grin, as he saw Harry skipping along. "Why, what a lovely idea! I may try it too, today." Harry could hear the Headmaster skipping down the corridors. Shite, shite, shite, Harry thought, shaking his head, what have I just done?

Harry wanted to make an early night of it, just the way Hermione would often do - although today she seemed more inclined to read a book near Ron, whom Harry was well aware she was a bit sweet on. Harry had questions for Hermione, a plan to work through - but... tommorrow. Rest now. Before that, though, Harry descended on Hermione, pulling out her wand, and using it to brush a stray lock away from her neck. Hermione jumped half a mile into the sky, falling onto her feet like a cat. She whirled, not having noticed his arrival, "Harry James Potter! You should be ashamed of yourself. Nearly scared me to death!"

Unfortunately, no sooner had Harry's head hit the pillow, than he was off to the races, his mind a whirlwind of small ideas. Slowly, they resolved into "Who was Snape's friend in Gryffindor?" Harry's mind conjured a Red and Gold wearing Death Eater, charging furiously into battle, wearing that fearsome white mask. A far cry from Peter Pettigrew, Harry thought. Harry couldn't imagine Snape being friends with Pettigrew. It was like oil and flame - ready to explode. It just wouldn't work. Harry rolled over onto his belly, cursing his curiosity and trying to smother it with his pillow.

It didn't work. it never worked. Harry didn't mean to be so curious, but still...

Harry stood, doffing pajamas and pulling on his uniform. He descended down to the Gryffindor Common Room. Luckily, Hermione was still up. He could sate his curiosity at least a little, by finding all the niggling holes in his plan.

*hairbrained idea. But, as Snape would say, at least the brat is thinking.

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