"NO WAY!"

Ron's eyes bugged to the max, reminding Harry of Aragog and his family. "Flitwick gave you permission to – "

"Shhh!" Harry clapped his hand over Ron's big mouth. "This has to be our secret," he murmured. "NOBODY can know."

Ron nodded in comprehension, and Harry released him, turning then to Hermione, who was staring at him in trepidation.

"You did promise to help me, 'Mione. I have to get a full grasp of the theories and then figure how to produce each charm or spell, then learn how to combine them. Flitwick said I could ask him questions, but I'd still like to keep his involvement to a minimum."

Hermione sighed, then shrugged. "Okay, Harry. Just keep my name completely out of it."

"D'you realize what this means, mate?" asked Ron, pointing to Harry's approved prospectus with a grin. "You will be able to prank Snape without fear of getting expelled! Fred and George would've given … well, EVERYTHING they owned for that chance!"

Harry gave a dry laugh. "Right. But I have to hurry, because the Charm needs to break during the Halloween Feast."

"So, what's first?" Ron flung himself into one of the Common Room's squashy chairs. Hermione had been sitting curled into a corner of the matching sofa before the low fire.

"First, I need to practice casting the Guilt Charm."

-:- -:- -:-

By the end of the week, all three of the Gryffindors had become proficient at casting the Guilt Charm, although it was difficult to keep finding good test subjects for their practice. Ron usually suffered the brunt of Harry's casts in their dorm, resulting in Ron suddenly transforming into a neat freak – his bed HAD to be made every day, to Aunt Petunia's exacting standards, no less – he HAD to pick up his socks and discarded robes, he HAD to arrange his books just so … or else he couldn't LIVE with the mess. And in the Great Hall, thanks to Hermione's under-the-table wandwork, Ron found himself putting second servings of potatoes and fourth servings of sausages back onto the serving platters.

"We have to get her back, Harry," Ron moaned outside the Fat Lady's portrait late one night. "I've never been so hungry in my life! This isn't FAIR!" But after a moment's serious thought, he added, "There's just one problem – I don't think Hermione has ANYTHING to feel guilty about."

Harry sagged against the stone wall as the Fat Lady rolled her eyes. "There MUST be something…" he said, concentrating hard on all he'd ever known about his bushy-haired friend. Then, suddenly, "I've GOT it! C'mon, Ron!"

The sixteen-year-olds tore through the Common Room like a couple of First Years, pounding up the steps to the Sixth Year boys' dorm. Harry flung open his trunk's lid and began to rummage. And rummage. And finally –

"Ah HA! Remember this?" He held up a crumpled printed page, smoothing it out.

Ron studied it for a second or two, then grinned. "Oh, YES! Let's DO her!"

Silently, the boys crept back down the stairs until they could see the back of Hermione's head visible over the sofa as she studied before the fire. Harry winked at Ron, and Ron grinned in eager anticipation. Harry looked down at the printed page, where one word stood out in Hermione's Second Year handwriting: "pipes". Concentrating hard on the torn-out page, he cast the Guilt Charm across the width of the Gryffindor Common Room.

Hermione's head came up with a gasp so loud that it caused the other late-night students to stare at her curiously.

Harry and Ron quickly drew back around the corner of the stairwell so they couldn't be seen, thumping each other in silent congratulation. "It WORKED! It REALLY worked!" chortled Ron. "She totally DESERVED that!" And Harry took his time laughing silently, then added in an imitation of Madam Pince's voice, "One hundred points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for defacing school property." He waved the vandalized page, shaking his head. "Given the way that Hermione absolutely WORSHIPS books… Shocking!"

By the time the boys reentered the Common Room, however, Hermione was nowhere in sight, though her books lay abandoned on and around the crimson sofa.

"Where'd she go?" Ron wondered aloud. A Seventh Year pointed toward the reverse side of the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Oh, no! The library!" Harry grabbed Ron's arm. "We've got to stop her!"

Ron balked. "But it's HOURS after curfew. Filch will be out there. And maybe Snape…" His voice trailed off as the portrait opened and they saw Hermione unceremoniously shoved into the Common Room, her eyes downcast and her face flaming with embarrassment.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for violating curfew. And detention Saturday morning in my office." Snape's black eyes passed over the remainder of the students scattered throughout the Common Room. Harry and Ron quickly stared down at the faded design on the worn carpeting. "You, Potter – another fifty points for failing to keep your little cohort in Gryffindor Tower."

Harry shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, where they clenched into fists, but he replied deliberately blandly, "Sorry, Professor."

Even through her embarrassment, Hermione appeared outraged at Snape's having blamed Harry for her own wrongdoing – and puzzled at Harry's calm acceptance of points unfairly lost.

Snape, on the other hand, seemed absolutely flummoxed, but only for the briefest of moments. Black eyes narrowing dangerously, Snape strode toward Harry, stopping within arm's reach of the Gryffindor. "Is that ALL you have to say, Potter? 'Sorry, Professor'? Are you quite certain that you wish to add no further comment?"

Harry stared steadfastly at the next-to-bottom button on Snape's coat. "Quite certain, Professor." He wished he could add something along the lines of: I'm sorry I failed to control Hermione's actions, Professor – she does tend to have a mind of her own, you know, and it's rather difficult to control her when I'm not even in the same room… But such a cheeky retort would only cause the loss of additional points and probably land him in detention. Again.

Following several seconds of a silent standoff, Snape's eyes rose from Harry's lowered head and swept darkly around the frozen tableau of the Common Room. "You Gryffindors should have been in bed at least two hours ago. I shall inform your Head of House to assert a closer watch in future. On ALL of you," he added with a sneer, glowering specifically at Hermione this time, before he and his robes departed. No one dared to speak until the portrait had bumped woodenly shut and Hermione had warded the Common Room against external eavesdropping.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she blurted over the low hum of rising conversation from the students around them. "That was totally unfair of him."

To her surprise, Harry chuckled. "Not necessarily, but don't ever tell Snape I said so." He wiggled the crumpled page before her uncomprehending eyes, waiting for the comprehension to kick in. When it did…

'YOU! YOU!" She snatched the page from him. "It WAS your fault!"

"I was just practicing, okay?" Harry saw his own grin reflected in Ron's face.

Hermione looked torn between slugging him and hugging him. In the end, she did neither, but settled for tucking the torn-out page into her school bag. "At least now I can repair the book next time I get to the library."

"Yeah," said Ron, "but why did you go rushing off to the library way after curfew, 'Mione? That's not like you, even under the effects of the Guilt Charm."

She shrugged, settling down once more upon the sofa. "I really don't know," she sighed, retrieving her Ancient Runes textbook. "I guess I just felt compelled to FIND the book again. For some reason, after I was de-petrified in Second Year, I never even THOUGHT about the damage to the library book. And then tonight, it just HIT me…"

Ron smirked. "But Hermione – you TORE out a page! You WROTE on that page! How COULD you?" He laughed aloud. Hermione's return glare could have rivaled one of Snape's.

"All right, all right," Harry tried to break up the coming argument. "She'll fix the book and that will be the end of it. The good news is, we know that the Guilt Charm is workable. Now, I just have to master the Incremental Accentuation Spell and Chronological Delimitation."

Hermione sighed again. "Not to mention Multiple Element Binding Principles."

"Yeah. October is going to be a busy month," Harry agreed with determination.

-:- -:- -:-

Harry set to work, trying to master theory and practice on all of the elements involved in the Haunting Charm. Surprisingly, the Chronological Delimitation proved to be far easier than he had anticipated, and he practiced casting charms and spells that terminated at specific times. Rather early on, once he'd gotten the hang of it, Harry began focusing exclusively on casting seventy-two-hour charms, with rather hilarious results at times.

His most memorable triumph took place during Defense, when Snape was actively browbeating him from a nose-length away, sneering at his perpetual inability to cast non-verbally. Amidst the Gryffindors' glares and the Slytherins' grins, Pansy Parkinson suddenly screamed, causing Snape to whirl toward her, wand at the ready. Standing next to her dueling partner, Pansy was frantically pointing toward the front corner of the classroom, where Ron had been fruitlessly casting various non-verbal Jinxes against Draco Malfoy's impenetrable silent Shield Charm. The rest of the students stopped their own dueling practice to stare at Ron, whose hair had suddenly begun to grow at an alarming rate, flowing past his shoulders, down to his waist, his hips, heading for his ankles.

"I didn't do it, Professor!" shouted Malfoy, sounding indignant when Snape's black glower settled upon the blond teen. "Weasley's a freak! I had nothing to do with … THAT!"

By now, Ron's hair had begun to form a soft ginger puddle on the gray stones. The Gryffindor grinned at Harry and Hermione, knowing that three days earlier, Harry had cast the C.D. (as they'd begun to call it) to delimit a seventy-two-hour time period for a stasis spell, which had followed immediately after the Hair-Growing Charm. Now that the C.D. had ended, the stasis also ended, and Ron's hair had increased to nearly ten feet in length and was still growing.

Something in Ron's grin must have given Snape a clue, for he whipped around, shouting, "Potter!"

"But Professor," said Hermione rather desperately, "You were busy talking to Harry when Pansy screamed. Harry wasn't even facing in Ron's direction when his hair started to grow."

In the brief moment when Harry chanced a glance at Snape, who was glaring narrowly at Hermione, Harry could see the truth of Hermione's logic cross Snape's expression. The man turned his head quickly toward Harry, and Harry averted his eyes. Snape continued to stare at the dark-haired boy suspiciously for several long moments, then turned his attention to Ron.

"Weasley! Explain yourself!"

Ron just giggled helplessly. It really didn't help matters that Lavender Brown had playfully scooped up the trailing ends of Ron's flaming tresses and stretched the hair across the front of the classroom to its current length of nearly eighteen feet. Parvati Patil stood about midway between Ron and Lavender, supporting the middle section of Ron's hair, holding it above her head to keep the thick ginger strands well off the floor.

Ron continued to giggle, taking a step forward every few seconds to accommodate new growth.

"Miss Brown! Miss Patil! Cease playing with Weasley's hair this instant!"

The girls grinned and dropped the long hank of hair, which made an audible soft plop when it hit the floor. Even the Slytherins had to laugh at the sound.

Snape watched Ron as he slowly circled from the front of the room around a corner and down one side, more than thirty feet of hair trailing after him now.

"DETENTION! Potter and Weasley both."

"But Professor – "

"Silence, Miss Granger, unless you wish to join them."

Turning again to Harry, Snape leaned down to hiss into his ear, "Yes, Potter, I KNOW you are responsible for this … IDIOCY. I don't know how, but you WILL answer for it, never fear."

-:- -:- -:-

The detention in question had involved five unpleasant hours of dissecting, gutting, skinning, or otherwise mutilating some of the most disgusting Potions ingredients Harry had ever encountered. But when that detention had ended, he went right back to practicing for the Haunting Charm. He still had nightly detentions with Snape, due to his persistent inability to cast non-verbally in class, but Harry didn't mind, since he had secretly succeeded with his non-verbal casting, thanks to much help from Hermione. Harry figured to keep Snape in the dark about his success until after Halloween, so that he could closely monitor the effects of the Haunting Charm during those remaining evening detentions, when he went one-to-one with the Defense teacher.

With a small amount of assistance throughout the month of October from Professor Flitwick, and much more from Hermione, Harry finally deemed himself ready to cast the Haunting Charm on Snape, and he quickly devised the timetable for his project.

"We'll need a distraction," he said thoughtfully. "The Halloween Feast runs from 6:30 until 8:00pm. Normally, I have detention with Snape from 7:00 to 8:00pm. I'll want the Haunting Charm to break at 7:45pm during the Feast, so I'll need to cast it at 7:45pm three days earlier, while I'm still in detention. Somehow, you two will need to distract Snape while we're in the Defense classroom, so I can hit him with the Charm from behind." He sighed. "I haven't been able to decrease the sensation of all of that combined magic, and I'm sure Snape will feel it wash over him UNLESS there's some screaming emergency for him to focus on instead. The whole point is for him NOT to realize that he's been hit with the Haunting Charm, or else he'll just Finite it altogether."

Ron nodded solemnly. "You can count on us, mate."

"Right, Harry," agreed Hermione. "I've got the perfect plan…"

-:- -:- -:-

Crabbe and Goyle played right into Hermione's hands, and at 7:45pm on October 28, Harry could hear an intensely-heated argument in the corridor outside the Defense classroom. Snape glared at the closed door for a moment, then stalked the full length of the classroom to fling it open. Before he reached it, however, hideous screams broke out in the corridor. Snape rushed forward, and Harry aimed his wand at the back of the billowing black robes.

He had to admit that he felt rather like Dumbledore, as he brandished his faithful holly wand in an intricate pattern of much-practiced loops and swirls, arcs and slashes, ending with a final thrust to send forth the burst of magic comprising the Haunting Charm.

The Charm hit Snape a split second after he'd yanked open the Defense classroom's heavy door, and the man didn't appear to have experienced any untoward sensation as he tried to make sense of the tangle of meaty arms and legs that used to be Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, but now seemed to be fused into a single weighty screaming being.

"What the bloody hell!"

Snape advanced upon Hermione, who was gawping, wide-eyed, at the quasi-human mass tumbling about upon the cold stones, and he wrenched her around to face him, her wand dangling nervelessly from her hand. "What did you DO, you foolish girl?" he demanded.

"I – I …"

"SPEAK UP!" Snape roared as several other students began to congregate in the corridor to investigate the commotion.

"I – I …"

"They got in the way, Professor!" Ron blurted, his own eyes unable to look away from Hermione's handiwork. "They tried to steal her plants just as she cast – "

"Cast WHAT, exactly?" Snape shook Hermione's shoulder.

"A Conjoining Charm, Professor," she said in a rather small voice, barely audible through the continuing screams. "The plants were for my Herbology project."

Snape glared black fire at the horrified girl. "WHY would you be using a Conjoining Charm on PLANTS in the first place?"

Hermione shuddered a bit. "Well, you know how Muggles graft fruit trees? I thought I could try something similar with magic, and I thought the Conjoining Charm might work, and I was just getting ready to demonstrate to Ron when they grabbed my pots and the Charm hit the Slytherins instead, and the pots broke and they crushed my little apple seedlings…"

Looking where she was shakily pointing, Snape saw fragments of shattered terra cotta, a goodly amount of rich earth, and the crushed remains of two spindly young trees – all appearing and disappearing repeatedly as the Slytherin mass rolled back and forth over top of the organic tragedy. His head ready to split from the sheer volume of the screams, Snape cast a Silencing Charm on the struggling monstrosity and addressed Ron. "Weasley, get Madam Pomfrey. Tell her to alert St. Mungo's. MOVE!"

As Ron dashed off, Snape inhaled deeply before speaking to Hermione with exaggerated patience. "And I suppose you just HAPPENED to choose the Defense corridor for your Herbology experiment, Miss Granger? You could not have confined your GRAFTING to a greenhouse?"

"We were waiting for Harry to get out of detention so we could all walk to the library together."

Snape waited a beat. "To the library. With two potted trees."

Hermione hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, sir."

The man whirled toward Harry, who'd been hovering in the classroom doorway all this time. "Is that true, Potter?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Well, yes, we did plan to go to the library straightaway after I left detention at eight o'clock, Professor. I wasn't aware that Hermione had already decided upon her Herbology project and would be bringing trees with her. I'm sure Madam Pince would have kept them at her desk while we studied. She's helpful like that sometimes." He shrugged, nodding at the fleshy conglomeration tussling with itself on the floor. "It sounds like that was just an unfortunate accident, sir."

Snape appeared ready to offer a sneering reply, but he spotted Madam Pomfrey in the distance, her plum skirts flying as she ran, two Healers following hard upon her heels.

"You will report to my office before breakfast, Miss Granger, and I will assign your detention at that time." The man turned to Harry. "As for you, Potter… Report to this classroom fifteen minutes early tomorrow night, to make up for the time you missed tonight."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

Hermione waited in the corridor while Harry retrieved his school bag, then the two of them joined Ron in beating a hasty retreat to the library while the Healers attempted to ready Crabbe-Goyle for his/its/their trip to St. Mungo's. Just before the Gryffindors turned the nearest corner, Harry looked back to see Snape's pointing arm imperiously dispersing the crowd of students.

"Let the games begin," he said with a tight smile that contained no hint of humor.

-:- -:- -:-

Hermione was quite late to breakfast the next morning, having gone to Snape's office beforehand. Spots of angry color dotted her cheeks as she plunked herself down halfway along the Gryffindor table from where Harry and Ron were sitting. After exchanging glances, the boys relocated so that they were both sitting across from her.

"So what happened?" Ron asked as Hermione nearly scalded herself pouring a cup of coffee.

"Does he seem to be getting paranoid?" Harry whispered hopefully.

Hermione viciously buttered a cold slice of toast and slapped some jam on top for good measure before replying. "Five THOUSAND lines!" she growled before biting the corner of her toast. "AND he threatened my status as a prefect. All because of two detentions in the same term. Said my conduct was unbefitting a prefect, as I was to be setting an example to the other students." Hermione blew quickly across the coffee to cool the surface before she took a sip. "All I can say, Harry, is that I HOPE your Haunting Charm really works. He DESERVES it."

Harry looked quickly back and forth along the nearly-deserted table to make sure nobody had overheard. "Well, at least Crabbe and Goyle will be okay. Eventually. It'll take a week or so to separate them completely, but Madam Pomfrey said that St. Mungo's Floo-called her this morning to give her an update. You really did a job on them, Hermione."

Hermione hmpphed.

"But what about Snape?" Harry pressed. "Did he – "

"You'll see for yourself in class," Hermione interrupted, draining her coffee and rising. "I will say that I was talking to him at exactly 7:45am when he suddenly got distracted and began looking around, like he'd heard a strange noise." She grabbed her bag and headed for the door. "Hurry, now, or we'll be late for Potions."

Ron laughed. "Slughorn is cool. He won't care if we're a couple of minutes late."

"You said 7:45? That's exactly twelve hours after I cast it. The second Accentuation must have gone into effect just then," said Harry, sounding pleased.

"Hurry!" urged Hermione, trotting ahead of them down the dungeon stairs.

-:- -:- -:-

By early afternoon, they had Defense, and Harry kept an eagle eye on Snape. Several times, the man paused to glance around in a highly uncharacteristic manner, almost as if he sensed that someone – or something – hidden was spying on him.

At exactly 1:45pm, eighteen hours after Harry had cast the Haunting Charm, the third increment of Accentuation went into effect, and Harry's eyes narrowed in satisfaction when Snape abruptly stopped in mid-sentence and whirled around, his wand at the ready. The class full of Gryffindors and Slytherins stared at him, puzzled, and only Draco Malfoy dared to inquire, "Is everything quite all right, Professor?"

Snape took his time before replying, peering carefully into every corner of the gloomy classroom. The Golden Trio had to bite the insides of their cheeks to keep from snickering when Snape used his wand to throw open the window shutters to allow bright sunlight to stream into the room. After examining the corners once more, Snape responded, "Indeed, Mr. Malfoy." Nevertheless, the man's dark eyes kept darting hither and thither throughout the remainder of the class, almost as if he expected something might suddenly spring out at him.

"Did you SEE him?" whispered Ron as they crossed the entrance hall on their way to the greenhouses for Double Herbology. "It's WORKING, Harry! It's REALLY working! I could tell!"

Even Hermione gave Harry an admiring look. "I can't believe you really came up with this Charm, Harry. It has to be the most complex magic you've ever performed."

"I couldn't have done it without your help, Hermione. You and Ron, both."

Ron grinned. "You'll let us know what happens in detention, right, mate? That's when the fourth Accentuation takes effect. Wish I could be there!"

-:- -:- -:-

Ron didn't make Snape's detention, but Hermione was there as previously ordered, writing the first of her five thousand lines.

"Again, Potter. CONCENTRATE." Although the words remained frustratingly the same, Snape's voice seemed tinged with fatigue and something else that was hard to identify.

Harry pretended to cast non-verbally … and he hit the unyielding floor again, courtesy of Snape's Expelliarmus.

"I'm losing patience, Potter."

Wearily, Harry climbed to his feet. He would be SO glad when this could finally end. Just two more days until the Feast, and then he'd be able to show Snape that he COULD cast non-verbally. He waved his wand in the correct manner for a Jelly-Legs Jinx, but he didn't even think of casting it, bracing himself for … THUD. He was beginning to develop a relationship with a particular stone on the classroom floor.

Snape stared down at the Gryffindor imbecile in disgust. Even that abominable Wormtail weakling could have managed better. Was it possible that James Potter could have passed on some recessive Pureblood feebleness through his genes?

The thought of Potter Senior inevitably caused Snape to think of the Golden Gryffindor's vindictive sidekick, Black. Snape could almost hear that accursed mongrel's mocking laughter…

And there it was again – the unshakable feeling that someone was watching him from the shadows. Snape's black eyes peered warily past Potter and ignored the Granger girl who was busily writing lines about halfway back in the classroom. Someone … something … was HERE. He could FEEL it… Just out of sight… Something that slipped away too fast for him to see… But HERE. Definitely HERE.

The unnerving feeling had begun sometime last night, several hours after the grotesque incident involving Granger and Crabbe and Goyle. WHY in Merlin's name Granger would even think to use a Conjoining Charm – normally used only on inanimate objects, especially by wizards whose Transfiguration skills were seriously lacking – on seedling trees… And the resultant effect on his Slytherins – heaven help the Muggle world if the Dark Lord decided to adopt Granger's mistake. And he still wasn't convinced it was entirely the accident that Granger claimed. From Weasley, yes. Possibly. Quite probably. But Granger had far too much knowledge, ability, and control. What the hell had happened there? And why…? On top of all that, just a couple of hours after the disgusting spectacle of Crabbe and Goyle had been hauled away to St. Mungo's, these odd feelings had begun creeping along his spine…

"Sir?"

Snape's attention snapped to Potter, standing before him.

"Sir, are you all right? You seemed to kind of … zone out for a moment."

Snape straightened his already-straight shoulders, causing the ebony folds of his robes to whisper quietly. "Of course, Potter." He raised his wand. "Again!"

Potter obediently attempted to cast non-verbally, only to be disarmed once again.

"Pathetic, Potter." He needed to come up with a new denigrating adjective. This was becoming too repetitive.

"Sorry, Professor."

Snape glared at the boy's rote apology, but the Gryffindor, as usual, kept avoiding eye contact. The same went for Granger and Weasley. Even last night during the fracas in the corridor. The three little busybodies were Up To Something. Without a doubt.

Potter had climbed to his feet several more times in succession before Snape just HAD to check the shadows yet again. This feeling … It kept getting stronger, and as much as he hated to admit it, his own fear of the inexplicable unknown kept feeding into it. This feeling of … creeping horror … was unlike anything he had ever experienced, even while in the Dark Lord's service, and that was saying something. Slowly, he circled the perimeter of the classroom, wand pointing into every shadowed corner and niche, under desks, and toward the gloomy high ceiling. As it was nighttime, he could not pull sunlight into the room as he had earlier in the day. That act alone had seemed to alleviate his uneasiness for a time.

Suddenly, he realized that both Granger and Potter were staring at him, although they each averted their gazes when he looked at them in turn. Granger dipped her quill into the inkpot on her desk and resumed writing lines. Five thousand of them. Five thousand LINES for FUSING two human beings together? He should have assigned her detention the night before, when he'd still been thinking clearly. But after a restless night, waking abruptly just before two in the morning, feeling with a thrill of horror that he was not alone in his bedchamber… His morning appointment with Granger had not gone so well.

"Shall we continue, Professor?" Potter asked in a too-polite tone, as if merely feigning being helpful.

Snape glanced at the slowly-ticking wall clock … and sighed. The main problem with assigning detention to a student lay in the fact that the teacher was forced to serve that same detention time as well. Normally, he would be able to make constructive use of the time, usually marking papers, or sometimes brewing. But these frustrating detentions with Potter… They'd been at this AGAIN for forty minutes already tonight, and – as usual – Potter STILL showed no progress. The boy MUST learn to cast non-verbally; his success in the war, in defeating the Dark Lord, might depend on it. If non-verbal casting turned out to be the deciding factor…

Potter cast again to no effect, was disarmed again … and REPEAT ad infinitum.

Suddenly –

"Bloody HELL!" Snape burst out, swinging around violently, his wand rising in a forceful reflex. "LUMOS MAXIMA!"

Blinding light blasted forth from his wand, revealing the ancient contours of the Defense classroom in all their drab detail.

Granger shielded her eyes with her quill hand, spattering large drops of black ink everywhere, including on her parchment, clothing, and face. Potter was squinting against the Lumos, but Snape's peripheral vision caught the white flash of the boy's teeth, which looked more like a wild grin rather than a pained grit against the powerful illumination. Snape didn't take time to analyze WHY Potter should be grinning like an idiot as he stared again into all of the brightly-lit corners and alcoves of the elongated classroom. Eventually, the shadows slowly returned as the Lumos faded away silently. Snape continued to stare warily around the room, his wand still poised for action.

"Sir?"

Potter's fingertip tapping the back of Snape's robed shoulder nearly caused the tightly-strung teacher to shoot upwards toward the vaulted ceiling.

"WHAT, Potter? What do you WANT?"

Harry watched the black eyes darting every which way and said quietly, "It's nearly eight o'clock, Professor. I just wondered if we were finished?"

For a moment, it looked as if Snape might deny it and force Harry to finish out the full detention, but then –

"Yes, yes. We're finished, Potter. Get out. You, too, Granger. Miss Granger," he amended. "Just … get out."

Hurriedly, the Gryffindors packed their school bags and scurried off to rendezvous with Ron in the library.

Severus Snape stormed off in the opposite direction. He had just made an appointment with a bottle of Firewhiskey in the dungeons.

-:- -:- -:-

"But you SAW him, Harry. With your own eyes. Did you really expect the Charm to affect him this strongly?" Hermione's concerned eyes probed Harry's unconcerned green ones. "Especially on the very first day?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. It's really an experiment, just to see if I could create a working charm for Flitwick's assignment."

Hermione pressed her lips together, doing a creditable imitation of Minerva McGonagall in a disapproving mood. "Maybe so, but I had my doubts about WHY you were doing this project from the very beginning. This is really about Sirius, isn't it? TRUTH, Harry," she ordered when he looked disinclined to reply.

"Okay, fine. Yes, it did start out with Sirius as the catalyst. I'll admit it. But it's not like Snape has to live with feeling haunted for the rest of his life. The Charm will break at 7:45pm, during the Halloween Feast, and then it'll be over. For Snape. I'll have to live without Sirius for the rest of my life."

Hermione never got to voice her opinion about Harry's self-centered statement because Ron suddenly cut in.

"You said 7:45pm? On Halloween? I just now thought - But won't you still be in detention instead of at the Halloween Feast?" When Ron saw the sudden realization flash across Harry's face, he added, "It's not like Snape to let anyone off detention just to enjoy a celebration, you know. Neither of you will be in the Great Hall, if you ask me. Your detention and the Feast both end at eight o'clock, so you can't even catch the end of Halloween. And weren't you planning to have Flitwick talk to Snape about the Haunting Charm at the end of Feast, after the Charm had broken? Your detention will screw up your entire Charms project."

Harry frowned. "I don't want to ask Flitwick to intercede and try to get Snape to make an exception for me… Hmm… I suppose the best thing is for me to demonstrate that I've mastered non-verbal casting for real in class on Halloween, just so Snape finally knows I can do it. Then I won't have detention that night and can make it to the Feast. I know the Heads of House are all required to attend the Feast, so Snape should be there for Flitwick to interview when the Charm breaks."

Ron nodded, but Hermione wasn't finished with Harry.

"Did you ever consider that this Haunting Charm won't necessarily affect Snape just because of Sirius?" She lowered her quiet voice to a barely-audible whisper. "He was a Death Eater, Harry. He's bound to have done some pretty horrible things in the past. Even if he really did come over to the side of Light in the end, he'd have to be inhuman not to feel a lot of guilt about his past … doings. Maybe that's why the Charm seems to be acting upon him so much stronger than a mere Juvenile Compulsion Charm would, even allowing for the Accentuation."

After a moment's consideration, Harry nodded slowly. "You may be right, Hermione, but like I said, it's only for two more days. Even Snape can put up with it for that long."

Hermione glared at him wordlessly and began shoving her books into her bag.

"Wait – you're not going to tell Snape, are you?" Harry demanded. "Or Flitwick? I still need to get marks on my project."

"No," she said huffily, swinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "I won't tell either of them. But YOU should tell Professor Flitwick, at the very least. He'd be able to keep a professional eye on Snape. I'd trust a teacher's opinion more than I do yours, Harry."

"Whatever."

Hermione flounced away, with Ron admiring the swing of her skirt's hem. "You going to tell Flitwick about what she said, mate?"

Harry snorted. "Not a chance. The greasy git deserves to be haunted, whatever the cause."

"Right."

-:- -:- -:-

Severus Snape sprawled on the teal green suede cushions of the sofa in his private quarters, staring moodily at the nearly-full bottle of Firewhiskey. As much as he wished to drink himself into oblivion, he refused to relinquish control of his life to a bottle. He'd taken a few sips as a pacifier of sorts, then set down his glass, trying to focus his thoughts. Tilting his head down to stare at the cushion beside him, he watched his fingertip as it stroked random patterns in the velvety suede surface.

He loved the soft hand of suede, compared to the stiffer surface in other leathers. Not to mention, suede didn't feel as cold to the touch as full grain leathers, and in the perpetual year-round chill of the dungeons, every bit of warmth – or even the lack of cold – counted for quite a bit.

Snape could counteract the cold, if need be, but he could not counteract his confusion about what he'd been experiencing for the past twenty-four hours. He refused to believe in superstition of any sort, believing instead that there must be a rational explanation for everything. He also prided himself on being more intelligent than most of the people whom he interacted with, aside from certain of his esteemed colleagues. Never prone to blind panic, he cringed with shame at how he had LOST IT – there was no better way to describe his behavior – in detention in front of Potter and Granger.

What was HAPPENING to him?

One part of him begged to go to Dumbledore – just lay it all on the carpet before the old man and HOPE that the twinkling optimist could FIX whatever was wrong with him.

But the more cautious side of Severus' psyche objected. It would be far preferable to sort this situation on his own. Keep quiet, keep a stranglehold on his self-control, and reason out what the situation meant. At the very least, the latter course of action might keep him from being committed to the Closed Ward at St. Mungo's. Granted, he couldn't help FEELING rather unhinged, but better to feel so than to actually be diagnosed as such.

A quick thought flashed across his mind that, somehow, Potter must be responsible, but he dismissed the notion almost instantly. Potter had been standing motionless before him in detention when the horrid feeling had hit Snape like a Muggle punch to the gut. Lumos Maxima? He groaned aloud. What must Potter think? And Granger – with her analytical mind… He'd be fortunate indeed if Granger didn't decide to report his untoward behavior to either Pomfrey or Dumbledore. One thing Severus Snape could be absolutely certain of: the Boy-Who-Lived had NOT been in his bedchamber in the wee hours of the morning.

Something else was afoot. And he WOULD solve this mystery, whatever it took.

-:- -:- -:-

Snape did not appear at breakfast on the day before Halloween, but that was hardly unusual. The three Gryffindors assumed that Snape, like many of the teaching staff, took breakfast in his private quarters. However, when they passed the Defense teacher on their way to Transfiguration, they felt somewhat shocked at the man's appearance.

"He looks like he slept in his clothes," whispered Ron. "His robes are all wrinkled."

Hermione bit her lip. "It really looks like he didn't sleep at all. Did you see the dark circles under his eyes. They weren't there last night in detention." She turned to Harry. "Have you spoken to Professor Flitwick, Harry?"

"Not yet," he hedged. "I need to write up my observations for him anyway, so I thought I'd sit in on the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff Fourth Year Defense class and see how Snape handles the afternoon Accentuation. He's already undergone two others since detention last night, and that one seemed pretty powerful. I'll observe the class and write it up, along with everything I've seen so far. Then I'll be prepared to talk to Flitwick."

Hermione frowned at him, and he hoped she wouldn't badger him about the difference between his being prepared to talk and actually talking.

Ron asked the obvious. "How are you going to get Snape to let you observe the Fourth Years?"

Harry grinned. "Well, there's this old cloak that used to belong to my dad…"

"You're not skipping a class to do this – "

But Harry interrupted Hermione. "Ron and I have a free period while you're in History of Magic, remember?"

"Oh. Right. But you WILL speak to Professor Flitwick, Harry. You MUST."

"Sure," he said casually. When he got around to it.

-:- -:- -:-

The Fourth Year Defense class proved to be an eye-opener in more ways than one. Harry was amazed at the difference in Snape's teaching approach, compared to the usual Sixth Year Slyth-Gryff class. The man actually came across as human, answering the Ravenclaws' questions without sarcasm and encouraging the young Hufflepuffs in practicing defensive spells.

As Hermione had pointed out, Snape's eyes looked exhausted, with dark bags beneath the bloodshot scleras. He probably hadn't slept a wink, or at least not after the 1:45am Accentuation, if the 7:45pm one was anything to go by. And now the clock's hands were approaching 1:45pm. Harry held his breath…

In the middle of demonstrating a correction of a Ravenclaw boy's wand movement, Snape suddenly sucked in his breath. He closed his eyes, and seemed to be gritting his teeth. Fighting for control, Harry realized. He watched the man take deep, regular breaths – IN, OUT, IN, OUT, IN, OUT… Probably trying NOT to shout "Lumos Maxima", Harry chuckled to himself. If only Sirius could see this! He'd probably bark out a laugh and slap Harry on the back, shouting, "Good one, James!"

Under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry's face suddenly fell. He'd wanted to avenge Sirius by "haunting" Snape, since Sirius wasn't here to do it himself, but he suddenly realized that his own father would have taken pleasure in seeing Snape … suffering. Yes, suffering.

At the front of the class, Snape opened his eyes, and upon seeing that the students had all withdrawn from his immediate vicinity to a safer distance, he ordered the Fourth Years to keep practicing. Then he sat down at his own desk. "Collapsed" might be a more accurate description of how he actually landed in his chair.

Quietly, Harry moved forward until he stood about six feet away from the Defense teacher. This close, he could clearly see the man's hands shaking. The black eyes whose burning gaze normally never missed a thing darted relentlessly into every corner of the room desperately probing to find the unseen menace that he KNEW was there … somewhere. The window shutters had been wide open from the beginning of the class today, so there was no need for a Lumos, but the URGE to cast one was undeniably there. Harry could clearly see it in the burning depths of the haggard man's eyes. If anything, Severus Snape LOOKED haunted. Haunted by something he could neither see nor comprehend.

Taking care not to make any sound that would give himself away, Harry retreated to the back of the classroom to wait for the end of class. He bit his lip as his mental world tilted askew. He tried to think back to the beginning of his idea for the Haunting Charm. Sirius falling. The nightmares. Revenge. Imagining Sirius haunting Snape. Deciding to come up with a way to haunt Snape on Sirius' behalf. Nearly-Headless Nick's confident assertion that Sirius would NOT hang around as a ghost.

Harry tried to pin that idea down – you'd think Sirius would have LOVED to come back as a ghost. Right? He'd always been up for an adventure, and he'd loved Hogwarts, after all. He could be away from Grimmauld Place at last; he would be with Harry. He could watch over Harry in lieu of James and Lily Potter. Harry could go to him with questions, and Sirius' ghost would have all the time in the world to answer. As for Snape, Sirius could have gotten his own revenge, haunting Snape relentlessly. Driving the dark man mad. Even driving him from the castle, if he wanted to.

So … why HADN'T he?

Harry stared at Snape, who had stood up again and resumed actively working with the Fourth Years.

Once more, Harry asked himself, WHY hadn't Sirius come back as a ghost? Why had he left Harry all alone? And why hadn't he even attempted to wreak his own revenge upon Snape? He COULD have done it – Harry was convinced of it. Look at all of the other ghosts in the castle. Look at Peeves! For the first time ever, Harry truly wondered what had happened to Peeves during his life that made him so determined to strike out at the students who inhabited Hogwarts today. None of the poltergeist's pranks were deadly, but they often weren't funny, either. Surely, Sirius must have felt enough anger over his untimely death to seek revenge. He'd never hesitated to attack Snape during life, so why would he just let Snape get by with playing an instrumental role leading up to Sirius' death?

Unless … Sirius didn't know?

Harry considered. Perhaps … perhaps Sirius HADN'T known. Not BEFORE he'd died, that is, but wouldn't he have learned afterwards? Weren't all of life's questions finally answered in that moment after death? Maybe, even as he was falling through the Veil? Why, then, wouldn't Sirius have come back? Didn't he realize how MUCH Harry would still need him? And even if he hadn't known how long Snape had delayed in alerting the Order, Harry could have told Sirius' ghost, and THEN Sirius would have gone all out to get his revenge.

Wouldn't he?

… good one, james …

The memory of Sirius' voice was fading to a mere whisper.

Harry looked at Snape again. Wondering…

Obviously, something must have compelled Sirius to go on. If given a choice between being there for Harry or haunting Snape, Harry was certain that Sirius would have chosen him over Snape. In the end, however, Sirius had done neither. He could have been there for Harry, but he'd CHOSEN not to. He could have come back to haunt Snape, but he'd CHOSEN not to.

Sirius had gone on.

And Harry had taken it upon himself to haunt Snape.

… good … one …

Had Harry really done what his father would have done? But James Potter had chosen to go on, too. Just like Lily. Harry's own parents – neither of them had chosen to remain with him. All these years… Why, they could have haunted the Dursleys! But they'd gone on. Even his own mum…

Thinking of Lily, Harry wondered just what his mother would have thought about the Haunting Charm, about its true purpose – not the B.S. he'd foisted upon Flitwick to get his prospectus approved. He shifted uneasily beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Somehow, he didn't think his mum would approve. He imagined her disappointment, her own emerald eyes clouding as she regarded her son, her only child. That scene by the lake – WHY had she attempted to help Snape, of all people? Was she just that … GOOD? In a humanitarian sense, that is. Or had there been something more? Involving Lily Evans and Severus Snape? More unanswered questions…

A commotion caught Harry's attention as the students headed back for their seats, and he realized the Defense class had nearly ended. Even from the back of the classroom, Harry could see how exhausted Snape looked, as if it had taken every ounce of his strength to make it through the entire class period.

Yes, Severus Snape was suffering. Harry had caused him to suffer. Thinking back, he realized that he'd only wanted to spook Snape. Scare him, even. Make him feel guilty, even if he never figured out WHY he was experiencing guilt. But Harry had never truly envisioned Snape suffering. Not physically, at least. He couldn't have imagined such a thing was even possible. But then, nobody had ever been hit with this Haunting Charm before. The Incremental Accentuations may have increased the effects more than Harry had anticipated. Add in Snape's Death Eater past… Hermione was right – Harry NEEDED to speak to Flitwick.

In order to avoid being bumped, and therefore discovered, by other students, Harry waited until the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had filed past his position and left the classroom. He managed to exit the room himself just ahead of Snape, only to come face to face with Ron, who had obviously been waiting to hear Harry's update.

"Hi, Professor!" Ron addressed Snape cheerfully, bringing the man's black eyes down upon him suspiciously.

Harry mentally groaned and lightly punched Ron in the chest. Concealed as he was beneath the cloak, he knew that Ron would immediately know it was him.

"You wished to ask me something, Mr. Weasley?" Snape hovered just out of Harry's reach, staring coldly at Ron's grinning face.

"Not really, Professor. I'm just excited about Halloween. The Feast is tomorrow, you know."

"I am aware of that fact," returned Snape, his tone sounding bored despite the strain written across his features. He moved to step swiftly around Ron. "If you will excuse me."

"Great time of year, though," Ron persisted. "Ghosties and black cats and hauntings galore."

Good GRIEF, Ron! thought Harry. What are you DOING?

"Quite the same number as during the rest of the year," Snape declared with finality, sweeping past the Gryffindor. If he'd looked back over his shoulder, he would have seen Weasley suddenly yanked sideways by an invisible force. However, Snape did not look back, and it was only after he'd taken firm refuge in the comforting familiarity of his office that he began to ponder the concept of hauntings.

-:- -:- -:-

-:- -:- -:-