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It was quiet, too quiet. They were studying, frantically running through their notes before Snape entered the room. He was late, it was unlikely, but welcomed. They wanted to make good marks on this potions test, not only for their own benefit, but the Yule Ball was coming up and nobody wanted to take the chance of giving the Potions Master an excuse to give them detention. They knew what night in particular he would choose for them to serve it.

A small chatter began to rise as the Weasley twins came in, matching grins playing upon their identical features.

“What are you two doing in here?” Ron asked with a bit of surprise.

“We missed a test.” The read-heads said in unison.

“Snape wants us to come in this hour since yours is the only class with a test today.”

“He’d rather us all take a test at once instead of keeping us after class.” George’s voice quirked in after Fred’s.

“He could never handle us alone.” Fred said with a devilish grin.

“Really. Who does he think he is? Our mother?!” George followed suit right after Fred once again. Ron grinned as his brothers laughed hard. Snape could never keep up with the Weasley twins like their mother could.

Just as they were calming down, the huge black doors swung open and a tall figure clad in all black entered.

“Weasleys. Sit.” Snape said with a stern and nasty tone.

As Snape walked behind his desk to get the ingredients that the Weasley twins would need, Fred spoke up. “Professor... there’re no more chairs.”

The Potions Master looked up and rolled his eyes. “That’s what trousers are for. To keep your bum warm while you sit on the floor.”

“The floor?” George groaned with his question which was a mistake... never question the Potions Master.

Snape looked up with an evil glare and watched as the two sat down quickly, preferring a spot a little closer to the door, which was the furthest from the desk.

It had been at least 5 minutes since Snape had started everybody on their tests and he was now sitting just as quietly as the room at his desk, writing next week’s lesson plan. Everybody jumped when they heard two loud voices startle the stale yet moist air of the dungeons.

“Great green gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts!
Mutilated monkey meat!
Little dirty birdie feet!
All wrapped up in all purpose porpoise pus!
And I forgot my spoon!”

Everybody looked back at them with wide eyes... already seeing what their tombstones are to read. Snape’s eye twitched in time with his hatred for the Weasleys, induced pulse. They scampered out of the room quickly, still singing merrily.

“I hate that song... Potter... Black...” He spat with venom.

Some of the kids began edging toward the door, seeing the absolute hatred whirling in Snape’s black eyes. “They tormented me... just popped up out of nowhere...” He leaned on his desk, starting to breathe heavily as the memories flooded back. “It was constant... They sang that same damned song over and over and over again! Were their feeble minds to small to be able to learn another song?! It was so horrible, I had to go home through the holidays to get away from their wicked voices singing that wicked song! Even then it haunted my dreams, filled my nightmares!” He held his head as he wobbled slightly on his feet, his eyes rolling at a rapid pace as if he were going through his R.E.M. cycle. He picked up a glass jar full of green gunk and looked at it carefully. Floating inside the green jelly-like substance was an eyeball, stem and all. Snape stroked the glass quietly. Neville was about to s**t his pants. He was already afraid of Snape, but now... he would rather be on a date with Malfoy than be in this room with the Slytherin Professor acting the way he was at the moment.

“So much anger... yelling; Mother said I looked so pretty in those dresses. I could have been a model...”

Mumbling flooded the room with small stifles of laughter.

Taking a deep breath, Snape shouted, “I NEVER KNEW MY FATHER!!!” With that, he reared his arm back and flung the jar forward with a girlie whip of the wrist but with great force. The jar sailed and bashed Harry square on the forehead making him fly back out of his chair with a loud thud. Everybody jumped up and scrambled out, afraid of the Potions Master’s wrath. Malfoy was the last one out, laughing his arse off at Potter’s now unconscious body. Neville had been the first one out... nobody had ever seen that boy haul so much a**... and I mean that in the best possible way.

Snape touched a twitching finger to his mouth in a sort of shocked motion. Before he could move anymore, he watched as Neville ran back in -having forgot his wand- grabbed the said stick and ran back out. As he headed for the door once again, his robes caught a foaming and bubbling cauldron, one that was already to be a failure. His robes pulled the cauldron down, hitting the floor and splashing the sticky, white substance all over Harry, settling in various places on his clothes.

Snape walked over to Harry quietly, knelt down and pulled the boy into his lap. He began to stroke Harry’s unruly hair as he rocked back and forth softly saying, “That’s mummy’s pretty little girl. That’s right. Such a good little girl.”

He heard footsteps clomping down the hall then looked up to see the other teachers enter the room, Dumbledore leading the pack. Terrified looks were written upon their faces. Filtch and Madam Pomfrey pulled Snape away, skidding him along the floor while McGonagall and Dumbledore wrenched Harry away, out of his mad grasp.

At St. Mungo’s...

They watched anxiously as Dumbledore came out of the room, shaking his head, his eyes cast down. “Is he going to be alright, Albus?” Minerva was the first to speak.

Dumbledore looked up, straight into the Professor’s eyes and said, “THAT BOY’S ******** UP!”

They had talked with the doctor and he said that Snape would have to stay there for the rest of his days. The memories flooded back so quickly, he had had a mental break down and would be on meds the rest of his life.

At Hogwarts...

A loud groan and a small chuckle was heard through the hospital wing. Harry woke up to the shinning faces of Ron, Hermione and Professor Dumbledore. He reached up and touched his scar... feeling something very different along the familiar zig-zagging mark. “What happened?” He asked with a groggy voice.

“Fred and George finally finished their mission in life... they drove a teacher -more specifically Professor Snape- crazy!” said Ron with a covered grin that he thought Dumbledore didn’t see.

“I’m afraid young Ronald is right, Harry. Professor Snape is now being retained at St. Mungo’s and will not be coming back.” Dumbledore said with a cool voice while opening a bag of lemon drops.

Harry nodded... still trying to remember what happened, the entire time rubbing the new dent that flowed across his scar. “How did I...”

“Ah, the dent across your scar, yes. You received that when Severus wangged you on the noggin with the glass jar.”

As Harry listened... he realized something. Just like his scar that Voldermort had so lovingly left on him, he began to have feeling in the dent that Snape gave him. The only difference was, with his scar... it was a fiery burning sensation. With the dent... it was more of a very strange tickle.

“I have some bad news for you, Harry. It seems that, just like with Voldemort and his accidental transference of power and a bit of himself into you when he gave you that scar, Severus has done the same thing. When he beaned you, some of his own emotions and memories were transferred into you.” Dumbledore sighed and ate another lemon drop. “It was nice knowing you, Harry Potter.”

Harry, as well as Ron and Hermione looked at the Headmaster very strangely. Before Harry could ask him what he meant by that, his eyes dilated then returned back to normal.

“Harry?” Ron waved his hand in front of his friend in a questioning motion.

Harry blinked and looked around. “Ron!” He said with a happy, gleeful voice. “Oh My God! Ron! Maroon is sooooo not your color! Can’t your mum see that? And Hermione! I have soooooo many tips on how to tame your hair! We should have a slumber party sometime!” He giggled like a schoolgirl in the presence of her absolute crush.

His friends looked at him, then to each other, to Dumbledore then back to Harry in total and utter shock.

Harry pulled off his glasses and looked into a reflective tin can that some of his candies had come in. “Oh goodness! Are these what I’ve been wearing? No, no, no! They’ll have to go. They don’t accentuate my face at all! Round equals fat! I need ones to make my cheek bones look high and slim. And oh! What color dress am I to wear to the Ball?! Maybe a nice lavender or a powder blue! I might even go as far as a baby pink! Oooo! I’ve got to do something with this unimaginable hair! And the name Harry? Yuck! Hailey is a better suit! So much to do, so little time!” He squealed and giggled numerous amounts of times, kicking his feet in his bed. Hopping off the bed, he ran out of the wing, needing to set up a date for the dance.

Ron and Hermione were both jaw-dropped. Finally, Ron broke the silence with a grin and said, “That’s my kind of woman! Hailey! Wait up!” He yelled as he ran after ‘her’.

Hermione’s eyes rolled as her head twirled and swirled. She growled to herself and looked back to find Dumbledore snoring soundly. He had fallen into his back of lemon drops head first and was now making the bag grow and shrink with every breath he took.

Slamming her fist into her hand and taking a deep, ragged breath, she said to herself between gritted teeth. “Watch your back ‘Hailey.’, the Weasley boy is mine!” With that, she left the Headmaster in his Lemon drop dream-land and went to study. After all, to defeat one’s enemy, you must first study and know one’s enemy.

The End.