Nobody ever asked my birthday

The good parts

Harry had been thinking about Pansy's offer.

It was true that he could guide it to fruition himself. But that wasn't really effective, not with what she really wanted. What she wanted was to be an information broker, a Finder of Things. And other people wouldn't go to her for that, not without an expression of trust.

Which was an issue. Slytherins didn't trust easily, and other people would suspect Pansy was just having them on.

It was a twisty sort of problem, and Harry very quickly got himself so knotted up about it that he needed a break.

He hastily pulled out that old Third Year potions book. It was Snape's, surely - but his mum had written throughout the whole thing. He opened to a middle page, and got fire.

Sev! How could you! Everyone turned into purple blimps! The picture was hilarious enough, but the thought of Severus Snape pulling a prank like that - it was a riot.

To be fair, it was just the Gryffindors. Snape's spiky handwriting wrote back.

All of us! Alice has never said a bad word about you!

She's never said a good one either Harry thought, "Man even Snape's writing can sound sulky."

Besides, what makes you so sure it was me? It was Mulciber that added the porcupine quills, and the stray cat hair.

Don't you dare! Sev, don't you dare! You and I both know that Mulciber wouldn't have changed a damn thing without your express instigation!

This was the sort of thing Harry would have liked to frame and put up on the wall. It was, more than anything folks had told him about his da, a pure distillation of Lily Evans. He could almost feel her sitting beside him, vibrating with anger (and purpleness).

Wouldn't Neville laugh, if Harry could ever tell Neville that Snape blew up more potions than Neville did? And Snape never got caught? Caused bigger explosions?

That Snape's actual problem with Neville was his lack of thinking, planning, and inability to cause what he wanted to happen?

Harry carefully put the book away, a warmth bubbling through him - it was easy to care about a Lily Evans, age thirteen. Heck, he could even understand what Snape had been accomplishing - nobody would blame him if the entire Gryffindor pride had gotten splashed, would they?

Well, Lily knew better, of course. But Lily was his friend, and would yell at him all personal like. Not take it to the teachers.

Harry remembered, suddenly, Snape saying that he'd kept files of his pranks. Maybe this one was in there?

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