Content Harry Potter Crossovers
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The significantly loud groan that swept through the large crowd as the Slytherin seeker grabbed the snitch was completely drowned out by the eruption of noise coming from the section of the crowd wearing green. The Slytherin Seeker Warrick held the struggling golden ball aloft as he raced around the stadium in a victory lap.

"That smarmy git needs to live it up, since this is only the second time he's actually caught the bloody thing," sneered James.

Sirius nodded, his eyes narrowed with dislike. Isabella simply crossed her arms and huffed.

Since their embarrassing loss to Gryffindor earlier in the year, the Slytherin Quidditch team had taken their offensive tactics off the pitch. In what Professor Snape ludicrously claimed was a startling coincidence, fully half the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams, including both seekers, had taken ill the night before their respective games against Slytherin. All with identical symptoms. Symptoms which corresponded remarkably well to a very rare condition that previously only affected a specific species of lemurs found only on Madagascar, or those from imbibing a certain colourless, odourless and tasteless potion that Professor Snape had assigned as extra homework for his OWL level Slytherin students.

Against inexperienced and unpracticed opposition, Slytherin had romped home to victory in both games with over five hundred point margins, Warrick catching the snitch both times.

Ravenclaw had managed to defeat Gryffindor by a measly ten points in the best game of the year, which meant that Slytherin's two wins placed them equal with Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. In such a case, the number of points scored during the year broke the deadlock, handing the cup to Slytherin. To say that the mood of the crowd was bad was a serious understatement.

None of the Potter/Weasley clan noticed the fire in Isabella's eyes as she glared at the smug form of the Slytherin Seeker do another victory lap. The disgusted roar of the crowd covered her defiant declaration, "I'm going to do something about this!"


James, Sirius and Remus were making their way back to the castle with Arthur, all four of them mumbling at how the Slytherins had made a mockery of the game of Quidditch. In front of them was the celebratory group around Warrick, moving slowly towards the castle itself.

"Come on." said James, and he increased his speed, to overtake the cheering group.

The four made it past the mob before being hailed.

"Well, Potters. Looks like Gryffindor finally lost the cup."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Just noticed that did you. Your powers of observation are truly startling."

James sneered at the Slytherin seeker. "Yeah, I'm sure everyone was impressed at how it only took you almost six hours to find the snitch."

Warrick sneered back at the Potter trio. "Like you'd know anything about actually playing Quidditch. Your family's always had the best brooms so you haven't had to actually learn to play, you just rely on your equipment."

Remus snorted. "Funny, that's not what the Slytherins were saying when Draco Malfoy bought his way onto the team back when my Dad was playing. His father bought top of the line brooms for every team member, you know."

Arthur grinned. "I don't seem to recall off the top of my head... Exactly how many Quidditch cups did Slytherin win while Draco was at school?"

Remus turned to face his cousin. "I do believe it was, let me see, yes... Zero."

"I see Remus. So, having a top of the range broom doesn't assist you to victory when you are in fact, a no talent hack."

"Exactly Arthur."

"Do you think anyone with the intelligence of a brain dead flobberworm would be able to understand that?"

Remus theatrically scratched his head. "You know, I would certainly hope so."

"Evidence would appear to exist to the contrary, however." deadpanned Arthur, looking Warrick up and down.

Warrick glared at the pair looking murderous, until he turned his gaze behind the group. His expression changed to one of sleaziness. "Well, well. Why don't you come along to our party my dear, I'm sure you'd be welcome."

Arthur and Remus turned to see their Uncle Bill's children make their way down the stairs leading up into the castle. Isabella Weasley gazed down at the smirking seeker with contempt. "Why on earth would I want to associate myself with you?"

Warrick was undeterred, the mob behind him giving him shouts of encouragement. "Because then you'd be associating yourself with winners, instead of losers."

Isabella threw her arm out to stop her brother from tearing Warrick's arms from his sockets and beating him around the head with the soggy ends. Given Charlie's navel was the same height as her shoulder, it took a fair bit of effort on the beautiful girl's part. "You think that because you managed to beat two weakened sides that makes you a winner?"

Warrick casually shrugged. "I'm the one with the trophy."

Isabella narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Would you care to wager that very trophy?"

Charlie's eyes widened at the tone in his sister's voice. "'Bella!" he said softly, trying to get her attention.

Isabella ignored him. "Well?" she pointedly asked the Slytherin.

He looked her up and down with a leer. "I can think of something I'd bet it on." The mob gave him another cheer.

"Right. Here is the wager. A single Quidditch match. Slytherin verses my family. We win, we get the trophy."

Warrick raised his eyebrows. "And when you lose?"

"If we lose, I'll be your girlfriend for the rest of the time you are at Hogwarts."

Charlie, Remus and Arthur all gasped "'Bella!" at the same time.

"Shut up." she snapped at them. "Well?" she asked, turning back to Warrick.

A great many expressions flashed across the Slytherin seeker's face. Lust was there, along with pride and anticipation. Mixed in though, was not a little hesitation and fear of being humiliated.

"If you're not man enough to make the decision yourself, go ahead and talk to your team mates. Hell, talk to Snape if you feel the need for reassurance. Term ends in three days. Give me your answer tomorrow morning, and we'll play on the last day of term." said Isabella completely calmly, to the absolute horror of her brother and cousins.


Severus snape scowled as he graded yet another abomination of an essay. His quill made quick time as it scratched its way over the parchment quickly, liberally spreading caustic insults in red ink over the page. With great satisfaction, he wrote 'D' on the top of the scroll, then placed it on top of the pile of completed marking.

With a cross between a growl and a sigh, the slimy potion master took the next essay from the still large pile of his student's attempts at essay writing.

"I suppose it is my own fault for giving them essays in the first place."

A confident knock sounded on his new door. "Enter." Snape said imperiously. The door swung silently open on its hinges, not yet old enough to have developed a really good creak.

An expression of loathing slid onto his features as he beheld the Defense professor. "What do you want, Potter?"

Harry strolled forward and casually transfigured a comfortable armchair out of one of Snape's discomfort inducing creations. "I wanted to talk to you about the upcoming Quidditch match." he said as he sat down.

Snape sneered. "You've come to try and talk me out of letting your spawn be humiliated?"

Harry's lips twitched into a tiny smile. "No, I've come to make sure that Warrick isn't being pressured into doing something he shouldn't."

Snape narrowed his eyes and glared at his unwelcome visitor. "What do you mean?"

"I assume you are fully aware of the specifics of the wager made?"


Harry nodded. "Are you satisfied that Warrick is acting of his own accord, and is not being coerced?"

Snape lowered the quill. "Explain."

"Warrick is an exceptional student in Defense. I understand that he is looking to enter the auror academy when he leaves Hogwarts, should he not be offered a place with one of the national Quidditch teams."


"So the terms of the wager say that Isabella will be his girlfriend for the remainder of his time at Hogwarts. While he still has two years to go, Isabella will still not be at the age of consent by the time he leaves. Should he try and take liberties with her person, charges may be brought against him."

"I see, you are here because you fear for your niece's virtue."

Harry snorted. "Hardly. From her Defense performance this year, even if the kids lose she can take care of herself. And if she needs help, she has her walking mountain of a brother. I'm just worried that Warrick may give into pressure, and put himself in a position where his future prospects may be endangered."

Snape stared at Harry for a long time. Finally, he broke the silence. "I shall speak to the boy. Is that all you came for?"

Harry nodded and stood up. With a quick wave of his hand, the chair he had requisitioned popped back into a hard, straight-backed stool, knowing that the blasé use of wandless magic would irritate his colleague. "That's it. I appreciate your time."

Snape smirked at him. "I'm glad you are thinking about the consequences of the wager in terms of the foregone conclusion. I had thought that you would believe your family actually stood a chance."

Harry shrugged and walked out the door, pausing just before he closed it. The-Boy-Who-Lived threw his own smirk back at Snape. "Oh, I think they'll mop the floor with your team. I'm just here because I'm living proof that the impossible can happen."

Snape spluttered briefly.

Harry cocked his head to one side. "You fancy a wager yourself?"


At the same instant Harry goaded Snape into a hissing frenzy, Isabella Weasley quietly closed the door to McGonagall's office, having been summoned that night at dinner. She gracefully sat in one of McGonagall's armchairs, patiently waiting for her house head to begin.

McGonagall simply eyed the girl as she entered. Once seated, McGonagall placed her clasped hands on the desk and leaned forward. "I trust you can explain what you are doing."

Isabella raised a perfect golden eyebrow. "Yes, I can."

"Well?" asked McGonagall, after a moment of silence.

"That cup doesn't belong to them. Slytherin only won it because they sabotaged their opposition in their final two games." said Isabella hotly.

"That is beside the point. I will not have any of my charges wager their affection on a silly lump of tin."

"You were a lot more vocal about keeping it during the year."

"Miss Weasley, while I do not deny that I have become quite accustomed to displaying the trophy in my office over the last few years, I will not allow you to sell yourself just to keep it here."

"Who said you'd be displaying it in your office?" replied Isabella tartly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The Slytherin names are still on the trophy. If we win, I'll keep it out of sight. They won't be able to gloat over it."

"You are gambling your virtue just to keep some self-centered students from bragging?" exclaimed McGonagall.

"I'm not gambling." replied Isabella from between clenched teeth.

McGonagall tilted her head back and looked down her nose at her charge. "Surely you are not suggesting that you are capable of winning? Though your family has produced many talented players over the years, you are all still in first year. You would be playing against an experienced team who have been practicing all year. I'm afraid I cannot allow you to-"

"You can't stop me!" spat Isabella, her face almost glowing with anger.

"I most certainly can."

"How? You can't prohibit a Quidditch match from being played. You can't prohibit anyone from being someone else's girlfriend. You can't prevent some first-years from playing in a Quidditch match, at least not after you let my Uncle play in his first year. You can't even ban gambling. Exactly how do you think you can stop me?"

Professor McGonagall could not think of an answer.


News of the Quidditch challenge ran through the school like a bad curry.

In true Slytherin style, the Quidditch pitch was booked for the entire three days by Professor Snape, in an effort to annoy Harry. In true Gryffindor style, the Potter and Weasley team claimed that they didn't need the practice, and that Slytherin definitely did.

On the night before the game however, two figures could be made out swooping over the Quidditch pitch at midnight. An experienced watcher would have recognised the plays being practiced as those performed by experienced seekers.

One of the flyers was quite obviously the Defense professor. The other, a beautiful, part-veela witch.


The day dawned crisp and cool, and the morning mist burned away quickly. Though the match was not scheduled to begin for an hour, already groups of people could be seen claiming choice seats. Harry calmly scanned the stadium, searching for Harry turned at the familiar voice. Behind him in the stands was a very familiar, but weathered face. "Remus!" he shouted through a delighted smile, overjoyed at seeing his old friend.

A similar smile graced the features of the last Marauder. Though only in his late forties, the ravages of his forced monthly transformations made Remus Lupin look two decades older. The pair shared a warm embrace, to the bemusement of the Headmaster.

"You really should come by more often, Remus." quipped Dumbledore. "Young Harry here has been getting rather dour in his old age."

Remus gave him a sour look, but released Harry to give the Headmaster a handshake. "Albus, the day Harry begins to act dour is the day you should give him his marching orders."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I was certainly tempted to do just that earlier in the year."

Remus looked at Harry in surprise. "What's this?"

Harry shrugged. "Some unnamed Hogwarts professors decided that a good offensive against a certain dozen troublemakers on April Fools Day was their best defense. Giving said students a week of detention before the day in question turned out to be a mistake. A rather large mistake."

An amused smile tugged at the werewolf's mouth. "What happened?"

Dumbledore spoke up. "I don't think we need to go into that, do we?"

Harry snorted. "You brought it up, old man."

"Then I appear to be making even more mistakes in my dotage."

"I'll say."

Remus growled deep in his throat. "Will one of you please tell me what happened?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Professor Potter here overturned the detentions given by other members of staff. Then promptly gave each of the 'Dozen Nightmares' a weeks worth of detention, helping a different professor each in their quarters. He happened to let a list of charms slip into their possession, enabling them to charm the staff's beds to venture out onto the lake while we slept."

Remus burst into laughter. "So you woke up in the middle of the lake?"

Dumbledore nodded ruefully, while Harry just grinned at him. "I told you that it was a mistake."

"Yes, yes, yes. I would thank you to keep your self-satisfied recriminations to yourself." finished Dumbledore haughtily.

Remus laughed and went to sit down when a bundle of shrieking joy clambered up the stands and leapt into his arms. "Remus! You came!"

Harry smiled himself at his exuberant wife as she gave his old friend a traditional Weasley hug. Behind his wife was his two daughters, Lily holding Margaret's hand. Harry beckoned them over and gave them both a warm hug. He looked around, knowing that the a large contingent of red-headed wizards and witches would soon be arriving.


Madam Hooch tossed the Quaffle and blew her whistle, indicating the start of the match. Isabella zoomed vertically, Chris and Zach split for one of the wings each and Charlie covered the goals. The Potter triplets zoomed off towards the Slytherin goal, ignoring the surprised Slytherin chasers, who for the first time this year managed to accept possession of the Quaffle straight away.

"Well this is a surprise, the Potters have allowed Slytherin possession of the Quaffle without contesting it!"

Gleefully accepting their good fortune, the three green-robed chasers sped towards the enormous form of Charlie Weasley. The large boy simply floated on his broom in front of the center hoop, seemingly bored with the proceedings.

Flint grabbed the Quaffle from his teammate, determined to score first. With a quick feint, he tossed the Quaffle at the top goal.

His mouth dropped open as Charlie casually reached up with his gorilla-like arms, snatching the Quaffle out of the air without moving from his position in front of the center hoop. With a grunt of effort, he hurled it away straight down the field.

Flint turned, his face paling as he realised just how out-of-position his team was. The Slytherin beater twins tried to intercept the Quaffle by hitting a bludger at it, but the ball sailed unimpeded into the waiting arms of James Potter. O'Mally steeled himself to intercept the shot at goal, only to find himself dizzy as James, Remus and Sirius twisted and turned on each other, looking like they were being juggled by some invisible giant as they sped towards him.

All three chasers split at the same instant, all going for a different goal with one arm hidden behind their backs. O'Mally just gaped as they all hefted their arms as one, each aiming for a different hoop. Only Sirius had the ball though, and it sailed easily through the lower hoop.

"Brilliant weaving by the Potter chasers, completely bamboozling O'Mally, who appears to need a nervous system to actually give him reactions."

Sirius waved to his family in the crowd before flying off towards the center of the pitch. This was just getting fun.


The match had been progressing poorly for Slytherin. While the team itself was well practised and skilled, the casual talent the Gryffindor first-years were displaying was morale sapping. Flint had just taken another shot at goal, the lower one this time, but the massive keeper simply swiveled his stationary broom and hung by his knees, snatching the Quaffle before it entered the goal. Warrick shook his head. Charlie Weasley hadn't moved so much as a metre from his position the entire game.

"Not bad, is he?" smirked Isabella with pride at her brother's ease at stopping all but a handful of scoring attempts so far.

Warrick sneered back at his counterpart, only to have her toss her head in dismissal. Her glorious eyes widened suddenly, and she dove straight down.

Warrick swore to himself, but tucked himself down and followed.

Once he had his broom aligned on the same descent vector as Isabella's he focused his gaze in front of her, searching for the telltale flash of gold. Almost instantly, the Gryffindor witch shifted slightly, adjusting her trajectory, obviously following a moving snitch. Warrick swallowed and forced his broom to follow, still unsure of where the snitch was.

Again and again over the course of only a handful of seconds Isabella changed course minutely. Warrick knew it wasn't a feint, she was shifting around just like you did when you were chasing the snitch. He couldn't believe he had managed to keep up with her though, since she had... a better... broom...

A sudden prickly feeling of unease swept through him, and Warrick gave a startled yelp of surprise as he changed his focus from Isabella's shapely rear to the ground beneath them. As the witch pulled up with less than a meter of clearance, Warrick realised he had been duped.

With all his strength, he hauled up on his broom, but it was not enough. The last thing he registered was just how pretty all the individual blades of grass were.


The crowd roared its approval as the hated Slytherin Seeker performed a very good impersonation of a dart.

"BRILLIANT WRONSKI FEINT!" shouted the commentator while jumping up and down with excitement, hollering as loud as he could. "Weasley caught Warrick hook, line and sinker with that one! Someone should have told Warrick that it Quidditch is played in the air, not on the ground. Man, that's GOT to hurt!"

Madam Pomfrey raced out into the middle of the pitch and tended to the stunned boy. The Slytherin team were distracted enough that James managed to fly straight through the upper goal hoop without interference, cheekily carrying the Quaffle through for a goal.

Isabella simply flew over to where Snape sat in the stands, his face almost Gryffindor red. Slowly, she raised a single finger, daintily licked the tip and made a motion as if chalking a '1' in the air. With that taunt, she turned and flew back to her scouting position, high above the action.

Snape simply screamed incoherently at his team as the school nurse began patching up the injured Seeker.


Remus gave a quick hand signal to Zach, then flew straight at the Slytherin Chaser formation. As soon as they noticed his approach, the two larger chasers positioned themselves in his way. Remus barrel-rolled on his broom allowing the bludger his cousin had aimed at his back to fly past and break up the Slytherin chaser's defensive formation, who all gave off startled squawks of surprise except Flint, who spat curses and blood as the surprise attack broke his nose.

"Unbelievable move there by Weasley and Potter! Potter shields the bludger from the Slytherins with his body, dodging at the last second, giving them no time to react. Flint is off to seek medical attention, perhaps Pomfrey can give him a talent injection at the same time!"

By the time the Slytherins had gathered their wits, Remus had passed the captured Quaffle off to James. O'Mally screamed his abuse at his teammates as once more the Potter triplets evaded his defenses and scored.


It took all of the Slytherin chaser's skills to evade the lumbering form of Charlie Weasley and score. Twice during the game, a Slytherin chaser had given in to his instincts, and committed a foul in an attempt to score. The cursed brooms took their revenge however, causing the offenders much discomfort.

Warrick had finally been allowed back onto the field against Madam Pomfrey's wishes, his head and neck swathed in bandages. Isabella flew up to him.

"Can you see anything at all with those on?"

Warrick growled at her. "Go away." he snapped.

Isabella shrugged. "Just thought you should know that the snitch is behind you."

Warrick swung his neck around, only to grab it with his free hand and groan. "You absolute-"

"There it is." shouted Isabella, gleefully zooming off.

Warrick glanced in the direction she was flying, not keen to be the subject of another feint, only to see that the part-veela girl was in fact chasing a flicker of gold. Cursing inventively, Warrick turned and flew after her.

As Isabella zoomed after the snitch, her passage could easily be made out as a wave of cheers followed her around the stadium. Ducking a bludger sent her way by one of the Slytherin beaters, she weaved expertly amongst the play.

Where Isabella used finesse, Warrick used force. He braced himself and just flew as fast as his broom could handle, not caring to dodge players or bludgers. His suicidal run allowed him to catch up with Isabella as she followed the snitch right up to the Gryffindor end of the field.

Breaking a cardinal rule, Isabella took her eyes off the snitch to look behind her. With a wicked grin, she wiggled her bottom at Warrick, and dove for the snitch as it dropped several metres.

Gritting his teeth, Warrick followed, swerving around the Gryffindor keeper. No one on a broom would be able to stay on course after a collision with Charlie Weasley.

Isabella jerked back on her broom, zooming back past Warrick almost vertically. With a grunt, he pulled up on his own broom, following the girl.

Isabella then dived and twisted to her right in a difficult maneuver designed to quickly change directions without losing sight of the snitch. Warrick tried to follow suit, but didn't quite have the skill. Instead, he took a shortcut, and leaned backwards into a blind dive.

Only to smash headlong into the tall goalpost.


As Madam Pomfrey tended to the wounded boy again, Isabella hovered in front of Snape, daintily licked her fingertip, and drew two '1's in the air.

Snape was on his feet, jumping up and down, screaming blue murder.


It took even longer for Warrick to rejoin his team in the air this time. In that time Isabella had gleefully shadowed the snitch twice, playing the crowd. The non-green portion of the crowd were screaming their approval.

Chris and Zach herded the bludgers towards the center of the pitch, then battered them both at the same time towards Charlie Weasley. The seemingly traitorous move stunned the Slytherin chasers, allowing Remus to intercept a pass and fly towards the Slytherin goal.

Remus flew in the lead, Sirius on his tail, James on his. The three flew as though they were sitting on an elongated broomstick, straight as an arrow. Without the bludgers around to disrupt their flight, they charged down the Slytherin keeper.

Remus reared up to throw the Quaffle at the top goal, only to let it fall back over his shoulder as he climbed vertically. Sirius collected the Quaffle without missing a beat and made his own feint at the middle goal, mimicking his brother's pass.

James collected the Quaffle and quickly threw.

At the middle goal.

O'Mally had dropped to defend the lower goal, and watched helplessly as the Quaffle flew through the middle hoop.

The commentator screamed his approval, almost drowned out by the crowd.


Warrick woozily sailed around the field, his broomstick wobbling uncertainly. Isabella drew up beside him.

"Do you want to withdraw your wager now?" she asked him.

Warrick looked over at her, his eyes vaguely unfocused. "You haven't caught the snitch, even with me out of the game for a while." he sneered.

Isabella rolled her eyes. "I could have caught it three times over."

Warrick's expression turned uncertain. "Yeah, right."

Isabella shrugged. "Want to try for a third time?" She poked her tongue out and pulled away, racing off to the wings.

Warrick grunted, not willing to be shown up by a first-year Gryffindor female.

The Sorting Hat didn't put him in Ravenclaw for a reason.


For the third time that game, Warrick was completely outclassed. Isabella lazily looped and twisted, her long golden-red hair streaming out behind her. She gave a quick hand signal to Chris and Zach, who nodded back.

Warrick missed this, and simply flew after her.

The Slytherin seeker blinked to clear his vision, and saw a flash of gold. Foregoing subtlety, he simply charged towards the snitch, desperate to catch it. He had no idea what the score was, had no idea if Slytherin would lose if he caught it. He just wanted to catch it for himself. To prove that he was the better seeker.

For the first time in his life, he actually became a true seeker.

Not for long though.

A quick shout of "Incoming!" intruded on his determination. In his peripheral vision, Warrick noticed a rapidly approaching bludger. He dived under it, only fly into the path of the other bludger. He ducked that one too.

Isabella zoomed in front of him, lying almost flat against her broom. Warrick growled to himself, pulling up on his broom in an effort to pull himself out of the dive he was forced into.

And flew straight into the stands.

Straight into the Slytherin crowd.

A roar of approval swept through the stands, again drowning out the commentator. As Isabella's delicate fingers wrapped around the golden snitch, a single voice could be heard over the noise of the crowd.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" shrieked Professor Snape.

For the final time, Isabella performed her taunt, chalking up three dashes in the air in front of the apoplectic Severus Snape.


Twelve excited (including seven sweaty) pre-teens gathered in Professor McGonagall's office. Isabella's smile didn't look like disappearing any time soon. Among the self congratulations and family pride, a cup with seven Slytherin student's names was passed around.

Caricatures had been drawn over the names, Warrick's being swathed in bandages.

Not even the entrance of four teachers could dampen the Nightmare Dozen's enthusiasm.

Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Potter and Snape entered, looking delighted, quietly happy, proud and livid respectively.

"I do believe congratulations are in order." said the Headmaster, his eyes twinkling.

"Thank you, sir." replied Chris.

"This is ridiculous!" snapped Snape. "Give me the trophy, it belongs in my office."

"I hardly think so, Severus." said McGonagall, her nose pointed upwards. "The terms of the wager were quite clear."

Snape glowered at her, before turning to Harry. "I suppose you are going to insist on our wager being honoured." he grunted.

Harry raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to one side. "Naturally. Can you say that you wouldn't be insisting the same of me?"

All others present stared at the pair. "What on earth did you wager?" asked Dumbledore.

Snape's expression twisted into one of hatred. "Never mind. I will adhere to the terms. For a full year."

Harry chuckled. "I don't believe we specified a time frame. After all, had you won, my resignation would have been permanent."

Snape paled even more than usual as realisation struck. McGonagall gasped. "Harry? You gambled your job?"

Harry nodded, a comfortable smile on his face.

All eyes turned towards the Potion Master. "What on earth could you have offered him that he would risk having to resign, Severus?"

Snape glanced at the assembled students, a fearful expression on his face. "Never mind. I will tell you in private."

Harry's smile turned evil. "Are you sure? I'm quite confident they will work it out sooner rather than later."

"Yes!" Snape almost shrieked. "Shut up, Potter!"

Dumbledore looked from one to the other. "Is this something I should know about?"

Harry turned to Dumbledore. "Severus has promised never to-"

"Potter!" Snape pleaded.

"-give another detention to these students." Harry finished.

Snape's shoulders slumped, defeated. He glanced around at the positively gleeful looks he was receiving from the Nightmare Dozen. A sudden premonition that would have beaten any of Trelawney's prophecies for accuracy flooded his mind. The expressions of anticipation on the first-year's faces would give him nightmares for a long time to come.

"No, that's it. I can't handle another year. I quit!"


Well, that's it folks. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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