Harry Potter woke the next morning with two thoughts on his mind:
First, it was Friday, and that meant Defense against the Dark Arts, again. Four hours per week, because Prof. Snape was combining all the classes.
Second, it was Friday, and Harry hadn't finished his homework.
This led to a flurry of activity, as Harry's fingers flew over the physical password on his trunk.* With a sigh of relief, he pulled out a slate and parchment, and started to scribble. A 100 ways to murder a fellow student? Harry thought, putting his quill to his mouth. With a trace of a frown, he scribbled it out, tore off the piece, and started again. That had been way too ambitious anyway - wouldn't Snape sneer if Harry'd only managed, say, 66?** Harry began to write, starting with the Avada Kedavra. That was the easy one, wasn't it?
And then his mind drifted towards the other unforgivables. Harry was fairly certain that the Cruciatus curse wouldn't kill someone, but the Imperius? That had possibilities. Harry wrote down three, one in which the Imperius was allowed to drop while the person was standing pointe blanke in front of a moving muggle vehicle, a second where the poor victim was told to ingest a poison they couldn't recognize (there was a sidenote beside this about 'why it is important to study potions thoroughly' - it almost felt like brownnosing, but Harry'd actually meant it, so he let it slide).
After ten more murderous spells, Harry scattered sand on his parchment, and stood up. He could hear Ron stirring anyway, and Ron was hardly going to leave him in his bed, working on a homework assignment.
Ron and Harry, showered and combed, spilled down the stairs into the common room as usual. Hermione's face lit up at the sight of them, "Boys!" she cried.
"Food!" Ron responded, grabbing Hermione by the hand and dragging her down the hall, as Harry laughed beside them.
As they sat down to eat (it was Bacon Day, so Ron was competing for how many pieces he could stick in his mouth at once. His record was forty, so he was competing against himself. Malfoy had just as big a mouth, of course, but 'far too much dignity' to ever participate in an eating contest). Hermione ate, as usual, while reading a book. Harry Potter found himself inexplicably lonely, even sitting by his best friends.
Which might explain what happened next - Harry's mind drifted towards Snape's assignment, and he found a few more juicy spells. Without really thinking about it, Harry pulled out the parchment and wrote down a few more spells, along with notations on how one could use Aguamenti to actually murder someone.
Harry was preoccupied enough that he failed to notice the several sets of eyes on him, watching the less-than-studious pupil working at the breakfast table.
"I truly dinna believe it." McGonagall said to Snape, her eyes still trained on Harry and his homework. "Bother's to Betsy that's your assignment he's workin' too."
Severus Snape did not bother to respond to this, but continued eating, his eyes suspiciously well trained on his plate, as he used his peripheral vision to watch the entire room's activities.
*Like a chinese puzzlebox.
**Rolemaster reference. You're welcome.
[a/n: Did you ever do that as a kid? Finish something and then have a better idea, that you just had to do?
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