Harry sipped his fizzy grape soda and slumped wearily in his chair.  The remains of his lunch lay abandoned on a tray on the shiny plastic table.  He stared around at the Muggles eating and chatting in the brightly lit café, and nervously shoved his invisible glasses up his nose.

"Leave them alone," Snape hissed softly with a frown. "Don't call attention to them."

"Sorry," Harry muttered contritely.  Flitwick had understood Harry couldn't see without his glasses, so he had made them invisible.  But Harry couldn't get used to the odd sensation. . .he could feel his glasses but not see them, and his hand seemed drawn to fiddle with them against his will.

"I'll provide a better solution when we change," Snape offered gruffly, sipping his tea with a scowl.

Harry sighed. He was tired and his stomach felt a bit queasy.  He had been delighted when Snape reluctantly allowed him to select where to lunch, and had happily chosen the cheery, garish café filled with noisy shoppers that bordered the shopping center.  He remembered Dudley raving about fish and chips and Harry had always wanted to try them.  They had tasted good at first, but now the greasy, salty meal sat uncomfortably in his stomach like a heavy lump.  The grape soda was almost too sweet and Harry wished the café served pumpkin juice. 

He watched Snape finish his large salad and calmly sip his tea as if completely at ease in the crowded Muggle eatery. The Potions Professor seemed surprisingly comfortable in the Muggle world - adapting far more easily than most non-Muggleborn wizards Harry knew.  The attractive blonde man looked like a successful Muggle executive, out for a day's shopping with his son. Snape's debonair glamour was actually quite brilliant, Harry thought.  He was less impressed with his own disguise. 

The lady clerk in Marks and Spencer had thoroughly embarrassed Harry by cooing and clucking over him like a broody hen.  She had gushed over his golden curls and made an unseemly fuss about his eyes, as if she'd never seen blue eyes before!  Harry was certain she would have pinched his cheeks, if he hadn't hidden behind Snape every time she reached for him.  

Snape had told her that Harry was shy.  He also told her Harry was ten years old, which had prompted the second of several terse, whispered arguments. . .(the first occurring when Snape immediately started to lead an outraged Harry into the Young Boy's department.)  Snape insisted that Harry pretend to be younger than he actually was, in order to enhance his disguise, claiming that Harry's undersized build encouraged this subterfuge.  Harry was rather touchy about his size, and didn't like being reminded that he was so much smaller than his classmates. . .and he certainly didn't want to be ten again, thank you very much! (He hadn't enjoyed being ten the first time and didn't care to repeat it.) A rather fearsome glare from Snape had temporarily silenced Harry's objections.  . .until Harry saw the clothes Snape brought into the fitting room for him to try on.

The conservative wizard's choices in apparel might have been appropriate - if Harry was attending a posh public school for spoiled trust-fund babies!  Harry grimly recalled the ensuing dispute.

"These are school clothes, sir," Harry pointed out with exasperation. "Pricey school clothes - for toffee-nosed rich kids!" 

"They are well-made, stylish attire,  entirely appropriate for a respectable young man of good family," Snape had sniffed huffily.

"They're impossible!  They look like something Malfoy would wear!"

"No Malfoy would be caught dead in Muggle clothes, you idiot!"

"Well, some Muggle prig like Malfoy, then!" Harry grumbled. "I'll look like a total berk in those things!"

"Don't be daft.  You'll look like a proper gentleman for a change."

"Linen trousers?  Silk blazers? Sir,  this is Summer Hol's - no one wears school clothes in summer!" Harry hissed.  "I'll stand out like. . . like a troll at a pixie pageant! I thought the whole idea was for us to blend in! Do you want everyone to stare at me?" 

Snape remained stubbornly skeptical, but after heated negotiation, they had finally settled on a compromise of sorts.  Two sets of preppy dress clothes were carefully packed away in his numerous shopping bags, along with three pair of jeans, several jumpers, and some comfortable knit joggers.  Snape had drawn the line at t-shirts, so Harry had been forced to concede to plain polo shirts in a variety of colors.  But the dour professor had surprised him when he insisted Harry purchase swim shorts, and even let him select ones he liked. Snape had hinted that their final destination was near the sea, and Harry might find an opportunity to swim, but when pressed, he refused to  reveal anything more.

The next minor altercation occurred when Snape had steered Harry into the underwear department. He mortified him by snatching up two packs, waving them at Harry and asking much too loudly "Boxers or slips?" 

Harry's scandalized expression and bright red cheeks must have alerted the man to his discomfort.  Snape studied him with concern, nodded with swift comprehension, and brusquely handed him the packages.  Then he wandered a short ways off, muttering something about meeting Harry in the shoe department when he was all sorted.  Somewhat mollified, Harry had selected what was necessary, including a pair of cotton pajamas and a robe, and then joined Snape in Shoes. There were no debates there.  Snape bought him black dress shoes, some sturdy leather hiking boots, and black trainers.  Harry didn't care what they looked like. . .he was just thrilled to have box-fresh shoes that actually fit his feet.

Harry felt odd about letting Snape pay for his new clothes and shoes.  It didn't seem right, but he had little choice - he had no Muggle money. So he had finally consented, but promised Snape he would repay him as soon as he could access the money in his Gringotts vault.  Snape merely shrugged and told Harry not to concern himself.

Although the styles were a bit conservative for Harry's taste, he was secretly elated to have new clothes of his very own - clothes never worn by Dudley or anyone....clothes in his exact size!  The well-fitting garments did make him look even scrawnier, but they felt so good next to his skin he couldn't mind too much.  He smiled down at his new jeans and rubbed a hand over the soft blue cotton shirt that Snape had insisted he wear out of the store.  (Dudley's old hand-me-downs were hastily consigned to the nearest bin.) 

Harry glanced up to see Snape was watching him.  The glamoured blue eyes were softer than the coal black eyes of the Potions Professor. . .they regarded him with benign curiosity.  "I want to thank you again for buying me all these clothes, sir," Harry said shyly. "They're brilliant!  I'm sorry I was so much trouble in the store. . .I've never shopped for new clothes before - except for my school robes, of course. I didn't mean to act ungrateful or anything."

Snape's eyes narrowed and his lips thinned.  "Think nothing of it.  I was concerned that your attire be appropriate to your station, but you have a right to chose what you like - within reason. You are the one who will be wearing them.  And you have already thanked me several times.  Repetition is unnecessary."  He scowled thoughtfully.  "You are entitled to adequate clothing, Harry.  As I have temporarily taken responsibility for your welfare, it is my duty to provide for you.  Gratitude is not expected or required."   He finished his tea with a slight grimace of distaste and rose, gathering up the packages piled around them.  "Come along, now.  We need to keep moving.  Follow me."

Snape lead Harry to the gents' loo in the far corner.  Fortunately it was unoccupied, and Snape locked the door and cast a quick protection ward.  He made Harry change his shirt and then shrank their purchases into one bag and transformed it into an overnight travel bag.  With a wave of his wand, he cancelled Flitwick's glamour. Harry glanced with relief at his own familiar face in the mirror over the lavatory. 

"We will alter our appearance several times on this journey.  That way, no one will be able to follow us," Snape explained.   "Give me your glasses."  Harry took them off and watched as Snape tapped the lenses twice with his wand. Their shape changed slightly, and the clear lenses darkened.

"Sunglasses!" Harry exclaimed happily.

"They will do until nightfall, at least.  Now hold still."  Snape pulled a small jar from his pocket and opened it, withdrawing a tiny flat sponge.  "This is Muggle make-up. . .it's employed by theatrical people. I'm going to use this to cover your scar."

"Why?" Harry squirmed a bit as Snape brushed his hair aside and began to smear the stuff on his forehead.  It was cold and a bit greasy - colored in a flesh tone almost as pale his own skin. "Doesn't the glamour hide it?"

"Only from Muggles.  Be still!"  Snape growled softly.  "A powerful wizard, as well as other magical creatures, can often see through glamours.  That scar is an instant giveaway. . .we can't take a chance you might be recognized.  I have found that Muggle disguises are most effective against wizards - they don't expect it."  He stepped back and peered at Harry critically.  Harry looked in the mirror again.  His forehead looked normal and his scar was practically invisible.

"Brilliant!" Harry breathed, quite impressed.

"We will utilize other Muggle camouflage later.  Now, hold still." He waved his wand and Harry again felt the strange shivery feeling rush over him.  He studied his new glamour with interest as Snape swiftly altered his own appearance and clothing. "Time to go." Snape cancelled the temporary wards and herded him out of the loo.  "We have a train to catch."

"Where are we going now?" Harry whispered.

"Crewe."

"What's in Crewe?"

"A train station."

Harry shrugged and followed the professor.  He'd never heard of the place, and was too tired at this point to really care.

The pretty server behind the counter peered back at the gents loo, wondering where the handsome blonde man and his adorable little boy had gone to.  She had noticed the attractive man and his son as soon as they came into the café. She had tried flirting with him, but the man had simply ignored her.  She sighed, not even sparing a glance at the stooped older man with mousy brown hair that lead an equally unremarkable, brown-haired boy out of the café. 

----- ----- ----- ----- ----

Severus shifted in his seat, careful not to jolt the sleeping boy who sprawled beside him, his head and shoulders draped over Severus' lap.  He gazed down at the child, mercifully quiet now.  He had to admit (to himself at least, if not to Harry) that the boy had done fairly well so far, considering.  He had obeyed orders, and had not offered any argument since the grueling shopping ordeal.  He had accepted each of Severus' glamour changes without protest, and didn't question his admittedly paranoid safety measures.  Harry hadn't even complained about the numerous Apparitions he'd endured.  He had chattered enthusiastically during the two hour train ride to Holyhead. It was evidently the boy's first train ride, other than the Hogwarts Express. . .in fact, he had confessed it was his first real excursion anywhere.

But by the time they stopped for dinner, it was clear the strain and excitement had worn him down.  Severus had selected a first rate restaurant near the port, determined to get some decent food into the boy, but Harry had barely touched his meal and had nearly fallen asleep in his plate.  By the time they boarded the last ferry to Dun Laoghaire, the boy was stumbling on his feet, too exhausted to take much interest in his surroundings.  They had settled on out-of-the-way seats in the aft section, somewhat removed from other passengers on the uncrowded ferry.  Harry had dozed off even before the ferry pulled away from the dock, then startled Severus by squirming halfway into his lap shortly after. 

Severus sighed and allowed himself to relax a bit.  He had vigilantly scrutinized the other passengers, and was reasonably certain they were all Muggles.  Wizards rarely took the Muggle ferry, preferring to apparate the short distance across the Irish Sea.  This was precisely why Snape had chosen the route.  The ferry ports were unlikely to be watched,  and few wizards would have any reason to be there.

He wondered again if he was being over cautious.  A hired car awaited them at Dun Laoghaire, with a long drive ahead of them.   He was sorely tempted to shorten their journey and simply Apparate with the boy, at least as far as Riverchapel.  But his natural wariness persuaded him to continue as he had planned.  The safest course was to avoid using magic from this point on, until they were securely behind protective wards.  It made for an exhaustingly long day, but was certainly preferable to the consequences of detection.  And Severus had come too far now to risk discovery.

Harry roused himself when the large ferry bumped against the Dun Laoghaire dock, shuddering into its berth. He sat up and stretched, apparently too groggy to notice or care that he had crawled into his stern professor's lap in his sleep.  He watched the crew carry out the mooring with sleepy indifference, and trailed blearily after Snape through the hectic terminal.  Severus stepped up to the silver-haired driver who stood by the curb, holding a hand-lettered sign that read "Belby". Harry gawked at the black Mercedes five-seater parked there.

"Welcome to Eire, Mr. Belby,"  the uniformed driver took Severus' bag and smartly opened the rear door of the sleek van, waiting politely for Severus and Harry to settle themselves inside.  Then he climbed into the driver's seat and turned to speak through the custom partition that separated him from his passengers.  "Would you prefer the direct route along the N11, or a scenic coastal drive, sir?"

"Direct route," Severus replied.  

"Very good, sir.  We should reach Ardamine in little over an hour. . .unless you have any stops you need to make?"

"No stops, thank you," Severus sat next to Harry and reached over to fasten his seatbelt for him, which earned him a nasty scowl from the tired boy.

"I can do that!" Harry glared resentfully.  "I'm not a baby, you know!"

Severus ignored his indignation and closed the partition between them and the driver. He discretely added a privacy shield to ensure they could not be overheard.  The car service was reputable and he'd used them often, but the driver was unknown to him. 

"Where are we?" Harry asked crossly, rubbing his eyes.

"Ireland."

Harry scowled.  "I know that! Where are we going?"

"South - to Ardamine. . . it's a small coastal town on the Irish Sea."

Harry sighed heavily.  "Okay.  Then what?" he snapped, his weary voice laced with petulance.  "What's next? A hot air balloon to France?  A camel ride to Egypt?"

Severus suppressed a smirk.  The boy's patience had apparently reached its limits. . .but he couldn't blame him.  That patience had lasted longer than he'd ever expected from the headstrong Boy-Who-Lived.  He decided to overlook the brat's impertinence. . .this time.

"This is the last leg of our journey. . .for the most part."

"For the most part. . .?" Harry eyed him skeptically.

"I need to explain some things before we reach our destination. . . preferably without insolent interruptions," Severus replied mildly.  "Are you awake enough now to comprehend and retain information?"

The boy had the good grace to look slightly sheepish.  "Yes, sir," he said meekly, sitting up and adopting an air of respectful alertness.

"We will be staying in the home of an old friend of mine, a few miles outside of Ardamine.  It's a working farm, run by a manager and his family, who live in their own cottage on the adjoining property.  The main house is magical and remains empty most of the year, except when the owner is in residence.  The house is Unplottable, heavily warded, and protected from intrusion by Muggle-repelling charms.  The farm manager's brother was a wizard, so he and his family are aware it is a wizard's home."

He paused, watching Harry's now fascinated expression, expecting a barrage of questions to burst from the inquisitive boy, but Harry seemed content to restrain his curiosity for the moment.

"Our host will most likely not be present, but there is a resident house elf who will tend to our needs.  The house is secluded but we will, by necessity, have some limited contact with the locals.  For this reason, it is imperative that neither of us is recognized.  We will have to maintain our alternate identities at all times. . .this will mean permanent disguises for the duration of our stay there.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded solemnly.

"I have invented false identities for us both. . .I will go over all the pertinent details with you tomorrow when we are both more rested. For now, a few simple facts are all you need to remember, in case you are questioned.   These are, as follows," Severus continued in his best classroom lecture tones.  "My assumed name is Professor Charles Westlake. I'm a history professor at Belmont Preparatory School  - a public boarding school in Dorking.  You are my ward, Cary Westlake. . .your late father was my first cousin.  I became your guardian five years ago when your parents died. You are ten years old, you attend school at Belmont, and you spend your summer holidays with me.  That should be sufficient for now.  Any questions?"

Harry gaped at him.  It was clear from his expression, he did, in fact, have a wealth of questions and simply didn't know where to begin.  He chewed his lip hesitantly, then plunged in.  "Are there any other wizards around?"

Snape nodded.  "There's a small, remote magical community nearby, called Glascarrig.  It's hidden from most Muggles, on the site of what locals believe to be the ruins of an old Norman castle.  Most of the villagers are Wizards or Squibs, though a few Muggle relatives also reside there.  Glascarrig is where we will acquire most of our provisions, although we can obtain Muggle items at other villages nearby."

"Will I be able to go to the village, or do I have to stay hidden all summer?"

"Once our disguises and cover stories are firmly in place, I see no reason why you can't explore the local countryside, on occasion, as long as I accompany you.  It's not my intention to make you a prisoner. But you may not, under any circumstances, leave the property without permission.  I'll explain about the wards later, and tomorrow we will discuss the rules that I expect you to obey."

"Rules?"  Harry asked nervously.

"Certainly," Severus replied sternly.  "You don't expect me to simply turn you loose and let you run wild all summer, do you?  I realize you are not accustomed to stable, rational supervision, but I have not entered into this responsibility lightly, I assure you.  I have already prepared for you a comprehensive list of house rules, as well as an outline of acceptable behavior that I expect you to abide by."

The look of apprehension and dismay on the boy's forlorn face left Severus feeling churlish and slightly disconcerted.  "You needn't look at me like that, Mr. Potter," he huffed defensively.  "I didn't say I would be running a concentration camp, for Merlin's sake!  I will not make unreasonable demands upon you.  But I will expect you to behave yourself and at least make some effort not to get into constant trouble!"

Harry blinked up at him timidly.  "Yes, Professor.  I'll try to be good, I promise."

Snape scowled at the boy's uneasy, earnest face and found it hard to remain indignant.  He glanced out the van window and tugged uncomfortably at the Muggle necktie he regretted being forced to wear.  "I'm sure we'll be able to come to some sort of equitable accord. Please do not distress yourself," he sneered half-heartedly.  "Now, I suggest you get some more rest.  When we reach Ardamine, I will dismiss the driver.  We will be walking to the farm - it's about 2 km - so I suggest you sleep while you can."

"Yes, sir."  Harry slumped awkwardly in his seat and closed his eyes obediently.

Severus glared down at him.  The boy would get a crick in his neck if he slept like that, and then he'd probably whinge all the way to the farm.   He reached down and shook the boy's shoulder lightly.  "Sit up, boy."  When Harry sat up, Severus unclipped his seatbelt.  "Lie down, for goodness sake!  You'll get a cramp," he grumbled impatiently.  "Put your head in my lap, and stretch your legs out - there's no sense in scrunching up like a blast-ended screwt in a jam jar!"  When Harry hesitantly followed his instructions, Snape readjusted the seat belt and clipped it loosely across his prone form.  Then he draped a protective arm over the boy's body, to make certain he didn't slip off the seat if the car should hit a bump in the road. 

Neither of them mentioned the broad empty seat behind them that would have eliminated the need to share.  Severus waited until Harry's slowed breathing confirmed he was fast asleep, before removing the boy's dark glasses and smoothing the conjured copper curls away from his glamoured face. 

----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"Good afternoon, Filius," Minerva strolled toward him across the grassy quad, smiling pleasantly as the petite professor joined her.

"Good afternoon, Minerva," Filius flashed her one of his infamous sunny grins.  "I was just taking a stroll down to the Lake.  I promised Hagrid to feed the Giant Squid while he was on holiday.  Would you care to join me?"

"I would indeed," Minerva agreed readily.  "It is such a lovely afternoon, I felt driven to escape my office and enjoy a bit of fresh air and exercise."

They ambled at a leisurely pace, chatting casually about trivial matters - the summer blooms in the herb garden; the excellent steak and kidney pie served at lunch;  Peeve's latest outrageous prank; and the rumored sightings of Irma Pince and Argus Filch, reportedly observed sharing a cozy tryst at Madam Puddifoot's the previous weekend.

When they reached the Lake's edge, Filius drew out a shrunken hamper of leftover toast from the kitchens. . . (the elves knew to save it for the Squid, who dearly loved toast.)  Together the two teachers shared the languid task of tossing the treats to the nearest glistening wet tentacle that trembled in squelchy anticipation.  Filius smirked at the creature's obvious enjoyment and murmured quietly,  "Any news on our package?"

"I'm happy to report our part of the delivery was a total success," Minerva answered with a small grin.  "There is no change in the tracking devices.  Said ‘package' appears to still be exactly where it was originally delivered. So far, there is no evidence that the sender is aware it has been moved."

"Excellent!  Any problems with the ‘stakeout' arrangement?"

"None that I foresee.  I should be able to report that ‘all is well' on a routine basis, neutralizing any potential suspicions."

"Good. I have confidence that ‘Catwoman' will readily confirm your reports. . .her memory was rather easy to manipulate, I confess."

Minerva sniffed distastefully.  "I shouldn't wonder."

"Has Pomona left yet?"

"She has.  Her sudden desire to take such a lengthy holiday wasn't questioned - thanks to a fortuitous coincidence.  It seems that Pomona's grandniece is expecting her first baby this summer. . .naturally Pomona wishes to remain on hand for the happy event!" Minerva smirked.

"Naturally," Filius agreed impishly.  He tossed the last of the toast to the eager Squid and brushed the crumbs from his hands.  Shrinking the hamper back to portable size, he gestured airily at the well-trod path that a century of strolling students had worn along the lakeside. "Shall we roam a bit?"

"Of course," Minerva consented happily, following him down the sandy path that wound its way around the vast lake.  When they had traveled a good distance - several kilometers, in fact - Minerva glanced back at the looming castle that gleamed in the distance.  "I should think we are far enough away from the school to be safe, but I suppose a privacy shield would not be amiss."  She waited while the Charms Professor set the shield and then turned to him with fierce determination.  "All right, I've waiting patiently all day - now I must know:  what did you and Severus do to the Dursleys?  Something nasty, I hope! "

Filius' kind visage transformed into a stern mask of malice.  "My own choice would have been a bit more direct and physical, I confess. . . but Severus came up with a brilliantly devious, very fitting retribution.  Have you ever heard of a curse called Somni Dolor Famulus?" 

Minerva shook her head, frowning as she struggled with the translation in her head.

"It's a very old, somewhat obscure curse. . .it fell out of use after the House Elf Reforms of the 1780's. . . although, it should probably be re-introduced, considering the rumored depravity of some of the darker Pure-blood families," Filius commented thoughtfully.

"What have house elves got to do with anything?" she asked in confusion. 

"The curse was originally created as a punishment for owners who brutally abused a house elf without just provocation."

"There is no just provocation for brutal abuse!' Minerva snapped indignantly.

"I agree with you, of course,"  Filius chuckled wryly.  "But house elves had no legal rights back then, you remember, and the maltreated had no lawful recourse.  But - if a qualified Wizard formally accused another Wizard of excessive abuse, and he or she was proven guilty,  they were sentenced to suffer under this curse for a predetermined time. . .normally a few weeks.  Roughly translated, Somni Dolor Famulus means ‘To Dream the Anguish of the Slave'.  It's a vicious little bugger. . . when cast, it forces the owner to suffer, in his dreams, all the abuse and torment he has inflicted on his house elf."

A grim smirk began to form on Minerva's pursed lips.  "How inventive!  So tell exactly me how it will apply here."

"Severus and I cast a variation of the curse upon each of the Dursleys.  Since they treated Harry worse than a house elf, he is the ‘slave' in this adaptation.  Every night, when those Muggle monsters go to sleep, they will have vivid, inescapable nightmares about all the abuse, both emotional and physical, that they have subjected poor Harry to over the years. But the crucial component to this punishment, is that in their nightmares,  each of them will be Harry.  They will take his place, feeling everything he felt, as they are abused by beastly versions of themselves.  It will seem to them as if they were trapped in Harry's body.  In short, the Dursleys will be the victims of their own cruelty and stupidity."

"Each night, the Aunt will suffer the anguish of every unkind word, every injustice, every deprivation she visited upon Harry.  She will feel Harry's hunger, his pain, his isolation - his weary, aching body as he labored unceasingly for her. . . . likewise, the cousin, Dudley, will suffer every act of harassment, will feel every punch and kick he delivered - he'll be the victim in every incident where he and his friends bullied Harry.  And best of all, the Uncle will experience every beating he ever gave the boy, as if he were receiving it himself."

"Hmmm. . .only in dreams, you say?" Minerva scowled.  "Doesn't sound very harsh, if you ask me."

"Oh, but it is," Flitwick assured her.  "Severus tells me these nightmares are so vivid - so unspeakably real - that the mind cannot distinguish between the dream-pain and literal physical pain. . .the only difference is the lack of permanent injury to the physical body. And there is no escaping it. . .the nightmares will begin every time they fall asleep, and they won't be able to wake up until every hurtful word - every vicious deed they have ever committed against the boy has replayed, with themselves in his place.   It is said to be an excruciating and degrading experience,  forcing the guilty to not only confront their own cruelty, but to repeatedly suffer the consequences of it as well."  Filius smiled grimly.  "The Dursleys are in for a rough time of it.  They won't know a single night's restful sleep until the curse has ended."

Minerva smiled with smug satisfaction.  "And how long will the curse last?"

Filius' mild expression hardened with dark ruthlessness.  "For the same length of time that the Dursleys had care of the child."

Minerva frowned.  "But. . .that's over ten years!"

"Yes, it is," Filius agreed.

"But, Filius, . . .they'll go barmy!  With no proper sleep, and unending nightmares, all three of them will be complete mental cases inside of a year!" She gaped at him in shock.

"Less than that, I would think," Filius corrected mildly.

"Oh, Filius!"  Minerva hissed.  "That . . . is. . . .bloody. . . MAGNIFICENT!" she crowed. And then the prim Deputy Headmistress astonished Filius by breaking into an impromptu dance of pure joy. . .a brief sort of zany, frenzied, highland fling that made him whoop with laughter.  "I swear," Minerva chortled with glee, "The next time I lay eyes on Severus Snape, I'm going to kiss the brilliant little bastard!"

"Now that's a spectacle I'd like to see!  Promise me I'll get to watch!" Filius laughed.

Giggling madly, he canceled the privacy shield around them and escorted Minerva back towards the school.  If anyone had been watching, they would have been astonished to hear the quiet summer day repeatedly disrupted by bursts of uncontrolled, quite undignified sniggers from two of the most distinguished professors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.