How Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, apple of Albus Dumbledore's eye and irritating speck of dust to Severus Snape managed to get a pet niffler was a mystery to many, but it was remarkably easy in practice.

It was all Hagrid's fault.

Harry had wandered off to Quidditch practice, with only flying, schoolwork and the question of how to save the Wizarding World to consider, and had returned with a young niffler wrapped in a blanket, a bag of food and a blissful expression.

Hermione had spotted the animal, opened her mouth to object, spotted the look on Harry's face and shut it again. She knew Harry well enough to know when he had his heart set on something, and she had too much homework to bother fighting a losing battle.

"Look guys!" Harry exclaimed to the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio, as he settled down at the table they were working at. "I've got a baby niffler!"

"Isn't she beautiful!" he cooed. The small rodent-like creature stuck its nose out of the blanket and sniffed enquiringly at Harry's watch. Harry merely chuckled indulgently and swapped the hand he was using to tickle his new pet's stomach.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a meaningful look. Chuckling was not something Harry had done much of late and the sound felt strange in the tense quiet of the Common Room. With exams looming and attacks from Death Eaters growing more frequent daily, few had the energy or the inclination to smile, let alone laugh.

"So we see," Hermione said in a slightly doubtful tone, suggesting it might have been better if they had not seen at all. "But why have you got it? You can't possibly keep it - it'll destroy the Common Room."

Harry gave her a slightly hurt look.

"No it won't, at least, it won't yet. It's really young, barely more than a baby, so it's too weak and little to roam about destroying things."

"Yet," Ron added. "It won't start roaming about destroying things yet. It will when it's grown."

"Well, yes," Harry conceded, somewhat grumpily. "But I'm not keeping it when it's grown. I'm just taking care of her because she's the runt of the litter - ten in one litter can you imagine! - and Hagrid can't because he's still got that injured Fruhbestelin and it spits acid whenever it sees her. Poor little thing," a hint of outrage in his voice. "How could anything want to hurt something as cute as you! You're just so... fluffy!"

Hermione had a horrible flashback to the time of Norbert and shuddered faintly. She comforted herself with the thought that niffler's weren't illegal, so it should be much easier to rid themselves of the animal.

"Well, you can't call it that," Ron stated. "The first Fluffy was more than enough for me. It is a name forever linked in my memory with fear and snarling and spittle."

"Sorry, I tuned out there. Were you talking about Snape?" The boys chortled and some of the other students shot them curious looks.

Dean called across, "Are you doing the same essay as I am? Because there is absolutely nothing funny about Transmutational Cross-Phylum Spells."

Harry explained that they were discussing his new pet. Glad of the diversion, several students crowded round to examine and pat the tiny creature.

"Does he have a name yet, Harry?" Colin asked while taking photos of the tiny creature.

"She's a she, and no, not yet."

Suggestions were quickly thrown to-and-fro and just as swiftly rejected. ‘Moneymaker' gained popular support (Dean's suggestion, ‘Gold Paw', received only quizzical looks, causing him to sigh and mutter something about "Wizard-born... no idea of true culture...") but Harry shook his head decisively in response to each. Suddenly, it sneezed violently several times, somehow making it seem even smaller and fluffier than before.

At this, Dennis Creevey proposed ‘Sniffler' and the bundle of fur snuffled his wrist obligingly. His peers were less receptive of the choice, with many expressing doubts as to the originality of the choice. Dennis ignored them.

"It's a pun! And it reminds me of the seven dwarf's names, I loved Snow White."

Ron and Neville looked at each other in confusion, then shrugged. Why anyone would want to be reminded of dwarves who were almost universally grumpy and unhelpful - and what self-respecting dwarf would allow themselves to be called Snow White? - were mysteries to them.

But Harry had already dismissed the idea. "I want something cool, y'know, something badass."

Ron and Seamus both burst out laughing.

"I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you've got a baby niffler there, not a dragon. There's precisely nothing about it that could qualify as ‘badass'." Ron explained through his chortles.

"Hey! Don't be nasty!" Harry exclaimed. "Just because she's not big doesn't mean she's not cool. I bet she's as cool as any dragon, and will have just as big a hoard when she's older. Actually..." A thoughtful look came across Harry's face.

"I've got it!" Harry cried delightedly. "I'll call you Smaug!"

And so Smaug she became.

But when Hermione saw the look of utter delight that was plastered on Harry's face as he stroked the soft black fur, Smaug sneezing happily, she felt a chill run through her.

Easy to get rid of? Somehow, she didn't think so.

 

***

 

Life at Hogwarts settled back into its usual routine soon enough, with very few people particularly interested in Harry Potters new pet. The exceptions were some Gryffindors who enjoyed having 'the Niffling' around to distract them from revision.  As one third year protested to Professor Sprout, the baby niffler was just magnificently fluffy. How were they supposed to focus on the healing properties of Carnivorous Geraniums when something so cute was wandering around?

 

Naturally, Sprout utterly disregarded this reasoning, but she did seek Harry out later on to give him some Blum Berries.

 

"Good for the young ones. Improves the coat," she explained while giving Smaug a brief pat. "Not that she needs it!"

 

She was feeling far less kindly toward Harry - and by extension his pet - a week or so later when he was late to class yet again. Smaug currently required hand feeding on extremely regular intervals so Harry was constantly sprinting to and from the common room, looking increasingly haggard, and kept being late to class as a result. 

 

The only class he was always on time for in those next few weeks was Potions. Although the other teachers had glared and taken points, they had in general been lenient, partly because Harry had the somewhat haggard look of a new parent. He had received one detention when he was late to Transfiguration for the third day in a row - "have you recently had your memory modified Mr Potter? Because you seem incapable of remembering what time this class begins!" - and he spent the entirety of it alternately sulking about the injustice and worrying about Smaug. It had not been enjoyable and Harry had no desire to repeat the experience, thus he had ensured, regardless of how cute his niffler was, that he was always promptly on time to Potions. Harry was just pondering whether he should start Smaug on solid foods when Snape caught his eye and Harry quickly returned his attention to his Sunshine Solution.

 

Focus. Concentration. 

 

He could work out dieting schedules later.

 

***

 

Something was wrong with Potter.

 

And not in the normal Plotting-Potter or Sulking-Potter modes Snape had come to know so well. This was different. Potter was distracted. Not only was he refusing to get angry at Snape's taunts, he appeared unaware he was being taunted at all.

 

He seemed... happy.

 

It was all most disconcerting. 

 

Snape was pondering this problem, occasionally sweeping the sixth years with his customary scowl when a wonderful thing happened. A beautiful, fantastic thing, a moment that Snape would treasure for a long, long time.

 

Harry Potter messed up his potion.

 

But not in his usual, mild incompetence involving over-generosity of ingredients or under-enthusiasm in stirring. Instead, he managed to add some unknown alkaline substance - honestly, he shouldn't even have had the earth-based ingredients out! - to his solution, in an error worthy of Longbottom. 

 

And naturally, his cauldron had therefore exploded.

 

Snape stood there, stunned, as Potter was sprayed head to toe in orange gunk that rapidly hardened to form a metallic shell. He could barely control his smirk as the boy became a veritable Tin Man. Wait - this was Potter. Snape stopped trying to restrain his smirk and threw in a particularly good sneer for good measure. Around him the Slytherins were howling with laughter - Malfoy was actually clutching his sides - and many of the others were struggling to hide smiles as well.

 

He was undoubtedly an amusing sight. Potter's movements were stiff and jerky, his lips were glued together by the one-time potion and his unbearably messy hair was now frozen in silver spikes giving him the appearance of a frosted hedgehog. His clothes had become patterned in dazzling silver and gold patterns with some of his fingernails sparkling as though specially painted. 'Bling,' Snape sneered to himself. The boy looked like a muggle rock star about to perform.

 

He looked like a complete imbecile. 

 

Snape said nothing, just stood there relishing Potter's suffering. Although the boy was unable to speak (finally blissfully silent after so many years of whining complaints) Potter had never been able to disguise his emotions. His eyes showed he was terribly embarrassed and utterly humiliated. 

 

It was moments like these that reminded Snape of all he loved about being a teacher.

 

***

 

It had been unfortunate, really, that Harry had been brewing a potion so sensitive to alkali ingredients (such as niffler hair) directly after grooming Smaug. Still, he reminded himself bracingly, he had been freed soon enough and now he (with the aid of his Niffling) would show Snape just how fantastic Harry's brewing could be.

 

The next potion they would attempt in practical - the Fine Finance Infusion - used niffler hair as a key ingredient and the fresher it was, the more potent the potion would be. Harry was determined it would be as fresh as humanly possible.

 

Harry had devised a cunning plan ("A terrible plan Harry! A spectacularly awful, ill-considered dung hill of a plan, on a similar level to Frederick the Foolhardy's attempt to set a surprise attack on prophetic telepathic pixies!") in which he smuggled Smaug into Potion's Class in his cauldron hidden under his invisibility cloak.

 

There were (predictably) problems from the very beginning. Harry attempted to stroll out of the classroom with his cauldron without Snape noticing or, at the very least, caring. But Snape ("what were you expecting Harry? He's got eyes in back of his bloody head!") stopped him at the door.

 

"Potter," came the familiar drawl, "I know you struggle with even the simplest concepts but I thought after six years even you realised that your cauldron is stored here. In the cauldron store. Where you always - or at least as often as you bother to tidy up after yourself at all - leave it. Have you suddenly forgotten where it is?"

 

Snape sneered, clearly beginning to get into his stride. He seldom needed a warm up when it came to mocking Harry, but the longer he went on the more varied and venomous his taunts became. Harry would give that to the man - he always pushed himself to find more and better insults to use on ‘Potter, that benighted gnome-grankle of a Gryffindor!'

 

"No, sir" Harry added the honorific after a look from Snape. He couldn't afford to get detention. "I just noticed my cauldron had a couple of stains and I thought I would take it away to give them a proper scrub this evening. In the Common Room." Harry almost grinned, pleased with himself for giving his (pre-prepared) excuse with aplomb, calm and confidence.

 

Snape's sneer only intensified and a moment of doubt crossed Harry's mind. Possibly he hadn't sounded as innocent as he imagined?

 

Possibly he sounded too innocent and thus Snape, suspicious snake that he was, only suspected him more?

 

Harry sighed, a tiny bit. He simply could not win.

 

Luckily, Snape ignored the sigh as he was too busy peering into the cauldron.

 

"Obviously, this cauldron is in a shocking state, and could certainly do with a thorough scrub, or better still, would be improved by belonging to a superior Potions brewer. But," Snape's head snapped up and Harry almost gasped at the ferocity in the black eyes so close, "this has been in the same state for years. Why the sudden interest in cauldron care, Potter?" Snape spat out.

 

This was tough, but Harry was fighting a bigger battle here. With some small difficulty, he swallowed his pride.

 

"Well, after that last lesson..." Harry trailed off, as though he was embarrassed by mentioning it at all. It didn't require much acting on his part. "I just thought I'd make sure everything was ok, you know, prevent anything so" (disastrous) "inconvenient occurring again."

 

There was a glimmer of what Harry recognised as triumph in Snape's eyes and Harry decided to play his trump card.

 

"And I suspected that it was some alkali substance interaction, which I thought might be contained in a stain. May I go now, sir? I'm already late to Charms."

 

Snape gave him a final glare but waved him away, clearly still enjoying his memories of that calamitous Potions lesson. Harry heaved a sigh of relief and scuttled off.

 

Well, he'd made it past the first hurdle. The rest of the plan would surely just fall into place.

 

***

 

It did not just fall into place.

 

It was all going so well! Harry succeeded in smuggling Smaug into the classroom in his cauldron, well hidden within a sack and under the invisibility cloak. There was a slightly sticky moment when Malfoy looked like he was considering breaking (or at the very least denting) Harry's cauldron out of pure spite, but Harry distracted him from this plan by insulting his father, his politics and anything else he could think of that the other boy held dear. They had a brisk argument (Hermione holding the Smaug-cauldron safely) that was certainly about to escalate to fighting and possibly duelling when Snape swirled in. Although he gave Harry a very long, considering glare he only took five points (‘For your deplorable decorum Potter') before ushering them in.

 

The infusion was a very challenging potion and Harry was struggling to keep up with the pacing of the instructions, stirring frantically and tipping in almost too much crushed beetle eyes before Hermione rescued him. But it was still looking ok and they were approaching the key moment. The niffler hair.

 

Harry could almost taste victory, it was so close.

 

Harry subtly knocked his stirring rod off the counter. Cursing, he knelt down to pick it up and (still scrabbling artfully with his free hand) he wrestled the sack open just enough to gently pluck a few hairs from Smaug, who snuffled his wrist welcomingly.  Recapturing the stirring rod, he rose, only to be confronted with Snape's scowl at extremely close quarters.

 

"Yargh!" Harry yelped manfully. Snape raised an eyebrow, just a little.

 

"I suggest, Mr Potter, that you continue with your potion immediately before what might be a passable Infusion becomes your usual abysmal sludge."

 

Harry reddened very slightly but said nothing, giving his potion another stir while he leant across Hermione, ostensibly to pick up some hair. He managed to drop her share of the fur in a small pile out of Snape's line of sight, with what Harry thought was brilliant sleight of hand. Upon returning he added Smaug's hair carefully, one by one.

 

It was amazing.

 

The potion turned a vivid Leprechaun green instantly, before streaks of gold started to shoot across the surface like comets. It was dramatic and wonderful and utterly perfect.

 

It was just what the textbook said should happen.

 

Snape watched, mouth agape, as the potion finally turned a soft rose gold. The ideal result.

 

Harry grinned triumphantly at the Slytherin Head of House, relishing his victory. Malfoy scowled across at him, the blond boy's potion a muddy copper with a strange, almost sludgy consistency. And Harry's friends had doubted the brilliance of this plan.

 

It was just as Harry was bottling his triumph that everything started to go wrong. To collect Smaug's hairs he had loosened the sack and the niffler was using this newfound freedom to snuffle about curiously. Although still hidden by the cloak Harry could hear her sniffing about, exploring as much of the new environment as she could access from her trap. Harry began to have slight doubts about the wisdom of bringing her here, to the lair of his most hated Professor. But then he glanced at his beautiful, shimmering potion - it was so good it was the exact same shade as Hermione's! - and his doubts faded. After all, she was still contained within the sack as well as being invisible. It was all well under control.

 

"Present your potions to me before clearing up for the day," Snape growled, shooting the Gryffindor's particularly venomous glares. Harry moved to give his vial to Snape and tripped spectacularly, almost going flying. Smaug was chewing his shoelaces! Thankfully, Hermione managed to grab his shoulder before he face-planted and only a small amount of his infusion spilled. He topped it up from his still full cauldron, attempting to maintain a calm expression while frantically kicking his shoe back and forth, trying to get Smaug to release his shoe without hurting her. Harry was beginning to panic as she continued to gnaw on his trainer, clearly pleased with this delightful new game.

 

Snape's glare was beginning to grow still more thunderous, black brows drawing together as he watched Harry fiddle at his station. He rose, clearly intending to give Harry yet another example of his most cutting putdowns and bitter insults, before Harry's brain finally kicked in and he rummaged in his pocket, dropping a spare niffler treat on the floor. This distracted Smaug sufficiently that Harry managed to escape (shoe still mostly intact) and strolled up to Snape's desk, vial in hand. Snape sneered but sank back into his chair, receiving Harry's potion with ill grace. As Harry returned to his workstation, his stride certainly had a pleased, almost cocky air to it that Snape had so often accused him of.

 

He started clearing up at a fairly relaxed pace as he wanted to enjoy every moment of Snape and Malfoy's suffering. This proved to be a mistake as Smaug, an industrious and intelligent creature, used this time to make her escape. Harry's blood froze as he felt soft fur brush his ankle and heard the slight but identifiable patter of tiny paws. Moving so fast he was almost a blur he knocked his (thankfully empty) cauldron to the floor, dived down to collect it and grabbed wildly at the escaped niffler who was now in plain sight.

 

He missed.

 

Harry Potter, youngest Seeker in a century, star of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, adept dueller and possibly the only hope of the Wizarding World, completely missed what he was aiming at. Smaug scampered happily out of range of his wildly flailing arm and Harry gave himself up for lost as he spotted a tell-tale swirl of black professorial robes out of the corner of his eyes. Slowly he rose, turning around to face his punishment head on.

 

"Mr Potter," Snape drawled. Harry refused to look away, matching him glare for glare. "Despite the fact that everyone else is determined to wait upon you hand and foot, I will not allow you to be spoilt in my classroom. Put down his cauldron, Miss Granger, he is quite arrogant enough as it is."

 

Harry shot Hermione a grateful look as she set his cauldron down on the bench. It was less gently than she usually treated equipment, as though it was heavy. As Harry was realising more and more, a young niffler could be an unexpectedly heavy burden.

 

Finally, finally he was ready and they attempted to make their escape as unobtrusively as possible. They were almost at the door -

 

"Mr Potter!"

 

Harry sighed, very softly. If he did get away with this, he would certainly have earned it.

 

"I note, once again, that you have forgotten where cauldrons are supposed to be placed after class. Are you quite certain nobody has performed a strangely specific Obliviate upon you?"

 

"Well, no one can ever be entirely sure, can they? An attacker's not likely to leave you the memory of the Obliviation!"

 

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Mr Potter," Snape replied coolly. "I ask you again - why are you taking your cauldron away with you?"

 

"You never actually asked the first time, sir. But," harry hurried on as Snape opened his mouth, undoubtedly to take more points, "it's because I thought I should give it another thorough cleaning. As I got such good results today," he added with some relish.

 

Snape's expression darkened at the reminder of Harry's excellent performance in class and he stalked forward, glaring. He put his face so close that some spittle actually landed on Harry's cheek.

 

"I don't know what you did, Potter, but I will find out and then you will regret it. Severely."

 

Instead of responding, Harry merely grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve. For a heart stopping moment Snape stared into the cauldron and Harry was terrified that Smaug had wriggled her way into view once more. But the man just gave a final disgusted snort before billowing off to berate Padma Patil on her failed Finance Infusion.

 

Harry, despite being weighed down with both his book bag and a cauldron full of niffler, made it up the stairs in record time. He was on the third floor before he stopped, panting for breath and grinning like a maniac.

 

"We did it Hermione! I made a potion even Snape couldn't criticise!" Hermione smiled back, caught up in the adrenaline rush of a prank gone well.

 

Harry finally uncovered Smaug - who had escaped her sack yet again, this niffler was unstoppable - but had then curled up and fallen fast asleep. Harry stroked her gently, making a low crooning noise. Hermione thought of Norbert once more before dismissing it. It was definitely too late to get rid of Smaug. And when she looked down at the smiling baby creature, snuffling occasionally as though caught up in an exciting dream, she couldn't even make herself regret it.

 

***

 

Snape was furious. His head felt as though a Hungarian Horntail had chosen to take up residence and was whirling its tail about, breathing fire on his temples and roaring in his ears occasionally for variety.  He had had a terrible day of classes, each failed potion making him progressively angrier, so by the time he had his last class of the day he was almost crackling with rage and the First Years were all too busy cowering in fear to brew a cup of tea correctly, let alone a Pompion Potion.

And now, when all he wanted was to eat his meal in peace before collapsing in an armchair and bemoaning the idiocy of other people for several hours, he was being foiled. The Entrance Hall was a seething mass of students, many shouting or laughing exuberantly, clearly watching something in the middle.

His head pounded. He pondered what terrible vengeance he would wreak on the guilty party.

Undoubtedly it was some idiotic student making a ridiculous spectacle of themselves. Possibly with the aid of that damnable Peeves.

There was a particularly large gust of laughter intermingled with some swearing. Snape had almost shouted "Weasley!" in his most quelling voice before remembering he had been rid of their aggravating presence the year before.

Honestly, he'd been teaching so many years it was nigh on impossible to keep track of this year's troublemakers, unless they had the decency to dye their hair dreadful colours like those Ravenclaw second years. Lime green and copper - had someone checked they weren't being compelled by a particularly spiteful imp?

He strode up the final steps from the dungeon, his headache throbbing in time with each step.

Whoever was causing this disturbance was going to regret it. Severely.

Possibly for the rest of their life.

He came to a halt behind a group of burly seventh years, whose names currently escaped him. He hoped this was merely a result of his headache and not a sign that he had been slipped a Forgetfulness potion.

Or, worse yet, that he might be getting old.

This thought cheered Snape not at all and he barked "Move," with even more venom than usual. The boys spun around, and upon seeing his expression several went pale before fleeing like the hounds of hell were after them.

A wise choice.

As he stared out over the heads of a pack of small Ravenclaws  - clearly the girls who looked like failed Britling potions were not the guilty party this time - he wondered idly if he could remember the incantation to summon a Hell Hound. That never failed to make an impact.

But as he surveyed the scene of havoc before him, his mouth made a tiny flicker that could have - if you possessed a lively imagination - suggested a smile.

Some things were constant. The sun rose and set, the seasons came and went, Snape was sleep-deprived and Harry Potter got himself into trouble.

Snape did appreciate consistency.

Draco Malfoy lay in a heap on the ground; the Patil sisters both had new bald patches and were clutching each other, sobbing; an obnoxious Hufflepuff boy was whining in a corner; and a horde of Gryffindors were trampling this way and that led by a red-faced Potter.

Snape strode forward, scattering students like chaff in the wind. He was already imagining the joy he would feel when he took fifty - maybe a hundred! - points from Gryffindor. He could already see Potter's expression of total despair when he was assigned more detention than he had ever before faced. He could already hear the clamours of outrage...

 He was so distracted by these happy daydreams that he was less observant than usual. Sadly for Snape, this was a poor moment for such inattention.

Something slammed him in the chest with such force that he staggered and almost fell, teetering wildly as he tried to regain his balance. He had almost done so when - bam! Something much, much larger crashed into him and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

He lay still for a moment, stunned, then felt something rooting around in his pocket. His eyes snapped open and he almost immediately shut them again.

Seeing the Potter brat's face at such close quarters was something no one deserved. Snape felt quite ill.

He was motivated to action by another, stronger tug on his watch chain and the sound of Potter's panicked voice shouting in his ear.  "No Smaug! Bad Smaug! Stop it right now!"

God but his head hurt.

Wait - Smaug? Had the Golden Boy finally lost the plot? Snape had always warned Dumbledore this day was coming but for it to finally arrive... Maybe something good would come of this day after all.

"Smaug, stop! That gold is not for you!"

Wait - gold?

"ARGH!" Snape roared as he tried to sit up, dislodging Potter but not his first assailant who he now saw was a young niffler. "Get off my watch you beast!"

Clearly, this was just the impetus the creature needed as at that exact moment his watch chain snapped and the animal scampered off delightedly carrying its new prize. Snape watched, frozen in horror as his beautiful, hideously expensive, precise Potion timer disappeared from view as the animal ducked behind and between numerous pairs of legs, students falling over each other in their efforts to catch the escapee. He knew in that moment that his watch - an entire year of savings! - was never coming back.

Potter was about to die a very painful death.

But as Snape stood up, the boy - who he would throttle with his bare hands, dammit! - was nowhere to be seen. Somehow, even more idiots had been dragged into the wild chase, all shouting "Stop that niffler!" at the tops of their lungs like it was actually helpful. The Hall was even more chaotic than before, something Snape could barely believe was possible.

Just as Snape was about to hex every student there, regardless of their House, colour or creed, there was a particularly large yell, a spectacular thump and then huge cheers. When he finally made it to the heart of the noise he once more saw Harry Potter flat out on the ground but this time he appeared to have an armful of wriggling fur that was enthusiastically licking his nose. Snape felt a tiny flicker of pleasure at the student's obvious discomfort before seeing something far more important lying mere feet from him.

His watch!

He retrieved the beautiful object he had thought was lost and, after surreptitiously wiping it on Longbottom's robes, inspected it closely. Niffler saliva aside it was unharmed and Snape felt relief wash over him as he tucked it securely into a hidden inside pocket. He would attach a new chain - and several protection charms - later. Right now, he had more important matters.

Vengeance.

***

A long, long time later Harry, Ron and Hermione sat before the fire in the Gryffindor common room. All were somewhat subdued. After the dressing down of a lifetime from Snape, followed by a detention so unpleasant Harry shuddered just thinking about it, Harry looked as though he was in shock. He kept reaching down to pat Smaug, his constant companion of so many weeks before remembering she had been exiled to the school grounds and was forbidden to set foot within the school, on pain of death. (Whether the niffler's death or Harry's had remained unclear but Harry was very sure that he had no desire to find out).

His friends shot him sympathetic looks and occasionally patted him on the arms but otherwise remained silent. They knew it would be some time before Harry was himself once agin.

So they were somewhat surprised when he returned from a visit to Hagrid the next day whistling, a broad grin across his face.

"It's the spring!" Harry declared for the benefit of no one whatsoever, as the Gryffindors were not actually stupid and were aware that April was springtime, thank you very much. Parvati informed Harry of this while glaring - Snape was not the only one yet to forgive harry for the Niffler Incident.

Harry was not put off by this at all. He continued to beam.

"That's why Smaug was so lively yesterday!"

"Lively?!" rose a dozen voices, many of whom were still sporting injuries due to the niffler's rampage.

"Yes, lively" Harry continued oblivious. "It's because niffler's have been bred to sort of hibernate in winter and then they become most energetic in spring. And do you know what's even better?"

There was a sudden hush in the Common room as a chill of fear ran through the assembled Gryffindors.

"Hagrid thinks Smaug's such a good, friendly niffler that he's going to breed her. She's going to have kits!"

Having dropped this bombshell, Harry wandered over to the sofa Hermione and Ron had laid claim to and began to chatter happily away about how delightful niffler's were and whether he could one day run a business working with them. Gryffindor's listened aghast as his plans expanded, gaining detail and colour and an overriding sense of fluffiness.

Harry trailed off with a happy sigh, then said "Isn't it just brilliant? Spring time, new life, more sunshine..."

A few of those present - notably Parvati and Seamus, who had twisted his ankle during yesterday's chase - were sorely tempted to tell Harry that no, it was not brilliant in any way shape or form. But after glancing at Harry's beaming smile they just couldn't bring themselves to do it. And the baby niffler had really been extraordinarily sweet and small and generally adorable...

"You're right, Harry," Hermione grinned back at him. "It is brilliant. But," her expression clouded over briefly, "Just make sure Professor Snape never, ever, ever finds out."