March 13, 1994:

"Cafall! Cafall!" Harry called, searching for his wayward misthound puppy. The young dog had taken off on him, hunting something.  Harry whistled, but was afraid the dog wouldn't hear him if he was off across the grounds. He started to walk towards the Black Lake. Cafall often like to play there, and sometimes Duncan would surface and throw pieces of coral and driftwood picked up from the ocean for the dog to chase.

But as he neared the lake, he could see the shoreline was empty of any misthound or student.  Clutching his robe tighter to him, he continued to search, heading up to Hagrid's hut, surmising that perhaps Cafall had gone to play with Fang.  The boarhound enjoyed romping with the puppy.

He had reached the middle of the lawn when he heard something that sounded like a fight, specifically a sword fight. Puzzled, he looked about, but could see nothing that resembled knights in armor or fae warriors. Yet he heard the distinct clash of a sword upon flesh somewhere nearby.

He walked a few steps, listening, and then he looked down.  On the ground a few steps from his feet was a small red-haired person dressed entirely in green, wielding a sword the size of a knitting needle. The green clad warrior was fending off a large rat the size of a small dog, stabbing at it repeatedly with the sword.

But the rat wasn't running. It bared its large yellow teeth and snarled, lunging at the tiny warrior, who was about three or four inches tall. The red-haired warrior was quick, but so was the rat.

From Harry's point of view, it looked like the small warrior was about to get his head bitten off. He drew his wand and chanted a sharp Stinging hex. The hex struck the rat upon its behind and it screeched and ran, upon seeing the giant hovering over it.

Harry knelt down in the grass, which he noticed was an unusually vibrant shade of green. "Hello. Are you all right? I thought for a minute you were a goner."

The green-clad warrior looked up at him and waved the needle sword at him warningly. "Many thanks, mortal. That big scurvy rat almost bit me ear off," a hand pushed back the small pointed green cap to reveal a large pointed ear.

Harry peered at the small creature, noting that he was dressed in a fitted green jacket with gold buttons and a darker set of trousers, with black boots and a small belt with a gold buckle upon it. Long hair of a bright golden-red color hung down past his waist. "You look like you were giving it a good fight though," he observed.

"Aye, well, I was tryin'. ‘Twas a bloodthirsty beastie though. Might I be knowin' yer name, laddie?"

"Harry Snape."

"Ah. Yer the young wizard kin to the Queen o' the Faeries. Pleasure t' meet you, boyo!" He swept the hat from his head and bowed gracefully.

"Same here. Uh . . .pardon me for asking but . . .are you a leprechaun?"

"Aye, I am that. Brighid O'Meara's my name. But ye can just call me Bridie."

"Bridie?" Harry repeated. "But that's a---oh!" he caught himself just in time before he made a huge blunder. He had taken the leprechaun for a wee man, not a girl, because of her dress and because leprechauns were always men in the old tales. He flushed. "Well met, Lady O'Meara." He held out his hand, palm out.

Bridie stepped up on his palm and beamed at him.  "Likewise, young lord. I have heard nothing but good of ye and yer kin.  The Queen thinks highly o' ye."

"She does? But I've never met her before."

Bridie laughed. "An' what has that got t'do with anything? Her Majesty judges ye on yer deeds, not yer face." Her eyes were a deep emerald green, and they sparkled like polished gems. "In any case, laddie, I be owing ye a favor."

"A favor? No, really, I don't need anything . . ."

"This has nothing t'do with need, laddie, but ‘tis a point of honor. Even we leprechauns know the meaning o' that."

Harry went silent. He knew, none better, that the fae folk were touchy about honor and debts. They did not like owing anyone anything, especially humans. They treated Harry and Severus with politeness and respect because they were related to Titania, but they still did not like being in debt. "All right."

"Since it's almost St. Paddy's Day, I shall give ye a special four-leaf clover." She snapped her fingers and a large emerald green clover that was almost her size appeared. The clover sparkled as if dusted with gold.  "This is a good luck clover, meaning that it will grant ye good luck at yer request once per day for four days.  Simply rub the clover inbetween yer fingers and say ‘Reverse' in order t' change yer bad luck to good. But remember, it can only be used once a day. After that, I shall return to claim it, for its magic will be spent. Use it wisely, young one. A fair mornin' to ye, and may the luck o' the Little Folk be with ye! Farewell!"

With that, she disappeared in a golden shower, leaving an astonished Harry looking down at the shimmering four leaf clover in his hand.

* * * * * *

He found Cafall on the far side of the lake, sniffing at a turtle crawling along the ground. He quickly snapped a leash on the puppy and hauled the reluctant canine back to the castle.  He had placed the clover in his pocket for safekeeping, and could hardly wait to show it to his friends and Draco. He wasn't too sure about showing it to his father and uncle, he feared they might regard the clover as cheating, especially if he used it to help him with school assignments.

But he had earned it fair and square.  Personally, he thought it was about time some good luck came his way.

He met Draco just as he was heading over to the hall for supper. Cafall leaped up on the Slytherin wizard and started washing his face, prompting giggles from some of the Slytherin girls and Draco grimacing and putting a knee in the dog's chest. "Down, Cafall! No jumping!"

The puppy whimpered, looking abashed. He knew he really wasn't supposed to jump up on people, but when he got too excited, he forgot his manners.

Draco caressed the hound's silky ears. "Silly mutt! Sit!"

Cafall sat, looking up at Draco with hopeful eyes. The other boy sighed and dug a dog treat from a pocket and fed it to the puppy.

"Draco, come over here for a minute," Harry tugged on the other's sleeve, drawing him away from the rest of the students, into the small antechamber next to the Great Hall.

"What is it, Harry? I'm hungry."

"Shhh. Take a look at this," Harry said and withdrew the four-leaf clover from his pocket.

Draco examined the emerald green plant and gasped. "Holy Merlin! That's a luck clover. They're really rare. Where did you find it?"

"I didn't find it. I was given it." Harry said, and told him about how he had saved the leprechaun. "She said it would grant me good luck once a day at my choosing. I'll have it till St. Patrick's Day."

"Wicked!" Draco said. "Wish I had something like that. I'm going to need all the luck I can get to ace my Arithmancy test."

"You don't need luck, dragon. Just ask your girlfriend. I'm sure ‘Mione will be glad to help you."

"Oh. You're right. I'm such an idiot." Draco looked like he wanted to smack himself. "Okay. Guess I'll be spending tonight in the library.  Come on, let's go and eat. I'm starving."

Harry followed him into the hall, his stomach was growling loudly. He wondered what was on the menu for tonight.

He slid into his seat next to Katie, hugging her. "Hey. How was your day?"

"It was great. Yours?"

"Good. I got to play an unexpected hero and rescue a leprechaun," Harry told her.

"Really? Did you rescue his pot of gold too?"

"Her pot of gold. No, she didn't have one. I was looking for my dog when I found her fighting off a nasty rat. I cast a Stinging Hex on it and it ran off. She-her name is Bridie O'Meara-said she owed me a debt and she gave me a lucky clover. See?"

He showed her the gold-dusted clover.

"Wow! It's really beautiful! Have you wished for any good luck yet?"

"No. I'm going to save it for when I really need it. I have it for four days."

Ron peered over his shoulder. "Blimey, Harry! Why don't you wish for a pot of gold?"

Harry chuckled. "Ron, don't you remember anything about leprechauns?"

"I remember they have tons of gold hidden away, mate. And they like to slide down rainbows and if you catch one, you can make them tell you where a pot of gold is."

"Ron, honestly!" Hermione sighed. "Leprechaun gold isn't real-it fades after twenty-four hours. It's only illusion. You ought to know that, you were at the Quidditch World Cup."

"Oh, right. But you could wish for real gold, Harry. Couldn't you?"

"I don't think it works that way, Ron," Harry said. He wasn't quite sure how he knew that, but he did.

"You could . . .uh . . .bet on the next World Wizard Chess competition. If you use the shamrock, you could make millions of Galleons!"

"Ron, is that all you think about-money?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Hey, I know what it's like not to have any, so if there was a chance I could have a lot of Galleons, I'll take it." Ron said defensively.

"Mercenary."

"Crusader."

"Stop it!" Katie ordered. "It's Harry's clover, he can use it however he wants. Now stop quarreling like two crabs and eat. You're ruining my dinner."

Both Hermione and Ron looked abashed and apologized.

Draco came over just as the dessert was served and asked Hermione if she wanted to help him study for Arithmancy. She agreed and he looked happy, for lately she had been spending more time with her books than with him.

"Hey, Harry. Want to play chess after dinner?" Ron asked.

"Can't. I have a ton of homework to do," he said regretfully. "Maybe some other time."

Ron made a face. "Merlin, but you were loads more fun before you found out Snape was your father. You never did your homework until the morning of class."

"Things are different now," Harry said. "If I don't do my homework and get good grades, my dad will be on my arse like a giant and stomp me flat. And I've got enough to worry about with the bloody tournament. I don't need Dad reaming my arse out on top of it."

"I guess you've got a point," Ron sighed. Merlin knew he didn't envy Harry having the perfectionist professor for a father. "Have fun studying."

Harry shot him a dirty look, then went upstairs to fetch his bookbag. Unlike Hermione and Draco, he felt the library was too stuffy to study in and preferred his father's well lit comfortable quarters to do his essays, since the common room was too noisy in Gryffindor Tower. 

* * * * * *

  March 14, 1994:

Harry woke up late the next morning and was half-awake as he stumbled through the corridors to go to Charms class.  But he had managed to finish his homework at least, and Flitwick hardly ever took points if you were a little bit late to class, so he didn't want to use the shamrock unless he really needed it. He managed to squeak by into the classroom just as the bell rang and made it to his usual seat.

"Good morning, class! Today we will be practicing a little known charm that is designed to protect you from another wizard who wishes to harm you. It's called the Reflection Charm and I need you to pair up with another student and practice it until you create a strong enough mirror to reflect your partner's hex back at them. But be careful! There will be no using harmful hexes, like Burning Hexes or anything like them. Stinging or Tickling Hexes are allowed, however." Some of the Slytherins groaned. He clapped his hands.  Watch closely now."

He demonstrated the charm and waited until most of the students had it down before splitting them up into pairs.  Harry was partnered with Seamus Finnegan, and Ron with Dean Thomas. Hermione ended up with Neville.

Flitwick had instructed them to allow the partner casting the Reflection Charm to cast it first before the other cast a hex. Harry allowed Seamus to go first, and then he cast a Jelly-Legs Jinx at him.

Seamus' mirror deflected most of the jinx and he only got wobbly knees for a few minutes.

Then it was Harry's turn. He performed the charm and Seamus cast a Hiccup Jinx on him, which Harry easily deflected.

But he did it with such force that it not only ricocheted back at Seamus, who ducked, it struck Goyle, who was a few paces away, in the arm. Goyle toppled over and his partner, Theodore Nott, shouted, "Hey, Finnegan, what the bloody hell?" He whirled and fired off a Tarantagula Jinx.

Seamus threw himself flat to avoid it and Harry barely had time to look up before the spell came flying at him. He had no idea what it was and no desire to get hit by an unknown hex. His fingers closed over the lucky clover and before he realized it he had whispered, "Reverse!"

He felt the clover grow hot in his hand and then the spell was turned aside and hit the wall.

"Finite!" Flitwick called sternly, before things could get even more out of hand. "Gentlemen, this is not dueling class! Please control yourselves, or else you can serve detention with me this evening! That'll be 10 points from both Houses for creating a ruckus!"

The class hushed and stopped casting.

Seamus picked himself up off the floor and smiled sheepishly at Harry. "Sorry, Harry. But it was just reflex. You were lucky as anything that you didn't get hit with that jinx."

"Sure, Seamus." Harry said, then thought, Finnegan, you have no idea just how lucky I am.  He patted his pocket and silently thanked Bridie for her timely gift.  Otherwise he might have ended up in the Hospital Wing.

However, other members of his family were not so lucky. Draco forgot his Transfiguration homework and got points off for it plus a lecture and then he took his Arithmancy test and was so angry with McGonagall for taking fifteen points that he couldn't concentrate and was sure he failed the test, despite Hermione's tutoring.

Severus was teaching a bunch of clueless first years and got a pounding headache from their utter incompetence, managed to avert two blown up cauldrons, and ended up wanting to strangle all the brats for socializing about the tournament instead of paying attention to their brewing.

By the time his last class was over, he felt as though his head were going to explode.  And he had developed a cough and was sneezing.  He hurried back to his quarters to take a few potions, he was not going to get sick now.  He had too much to do.

But he found that his bed looked too tempting to resist and so he ended up lying down for an hour. Only the hour turned into three hours and when he woke up he felt even worse, achy, feverish, and exhausted, as if he had no strength in his body. He took another potion and went back to sleep.

* * * * * *

When Harry didn't see Severus in the hall for dinner that evening, he became concerned. He asked Draco if he had seen their father, but Draco just shook his head.  The blond Slytherin really was depressed and feared Severus' wrath if he had failed that last test, so he was quite content to avoid the older wizard at this point.

Harry, sensing he would get no more from his brother, went down to his father's suite after dinner. Smidgen met him at the door of Snape's quarters. *Harry, I fear your father is very ill. He is running  a high fever and seems to be delirious. And his magical reserves are very low.*

Harry pushed past the winged cat.  He had never known his father to be sick. Severus had always seemed immune to disease, invincible to things mere mortals could catch. But if Smidgen were correct . . . "Dad? Dad, are you okay?"

The den was empty, so Harry headed over to the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and called softly, "Dad?"

There was a small light burning and he could see his father's tall figure in the bed, The sheets were wrapped about his lean frame and his hair was soaked with sweat. He was restless, tossing and turning and his face was flushed with an unhealthy reddish color.

Harry came and laid a hand upon his father's brow. It was very hot, as Smidgen had said. Suddenly, Severus began to shiver and cough. Harry stared down at his parent in shock. "You were right, Smidgen. He's really sick."

*You need to summon a Healer, Harry. I believe he has contracted wizard flu or pneumonia. It can be fatal if not treated immediately.*

"Stay with him. I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, then raced out to the den and tossed a handful of Floo Powder down into the flames.

* * * * * *

Several hours later, Severus awoke to a cool cloth being run over his face. He groaned softly and opened his eyes to see Poppy standing beside his bed. "Who called you?" he rasped, after drinking a cup of water she gave him.

"Harry did. He found you and called me as soon as he could. Lie still, Severus. You've contracted a rather nasty bout of wizard flu and need to stay in bed for four days and rest."

"Rest? I have classes to teach, woman!"

"You can get a substitute, Severus. Calm down. If you don't rest you'll never get better."

"I feel a little better already," he argued, though in fact he didn't. He just didn't want to admit it.

"That's because of my potions. Severus, quit being so bloody stubborn! You're only human, not an immortal. If you don't rest you could damage your magical core."

He coughed, giving her a glare. He knew she was right, but he hated being so helpless. "Fine. What potions do I need?"

She told him. "You have most of them. All I need are Anti Inflammatory Elixirs and Magic Replenishers."

Severus coughed again. When the spasm eased, he said hoarsely, "Have Katie and Harry brew them in my personal lab, they're advanced enough to do so and I trust them not to blow up the place."

Poppy ran a diagnostic and gave him an Extra-Strength Fever Reducer, for his fever was still quite high. "Rest now, Severus. I'll be back later to check on you."

She turned and left the room, nearly running over Harry and Draco.

"How is he?" both boys asked almost in unison.

"I've seen worse. He is very ill, but he's also got a decent immune system. I think he'll make a full recovery.  Draco, have you had wizard flu before?"

"Yeah. I had it when I was a baby."

"How about you, Harry?"

"No. I was never around any wizards when I was a kid."

"Hmm . . .then you could get it too. I would suggest you have as little contact with your father as possible, and wash your hands thoroughly with hot water and if you start feeling exhausted or weak come see me immediately. Wizard flu, some strains of it, is highly contagious."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said obediently, though he knew of one way to avoid getting the damned flu. He could use his clover and ask to be lucky enough to avoid the disease. 

"Oh, and your father says that you and Miss Bell need to brew the following potions . . ." she told him crisply. "Mind you don't wreck his lab either. That would really kill him."

"I won't," Harry promised, wishing he could fix his father with his clover. But Smidgen had told him the clover only worked for him, not a family member.  He felt awful that he couldn't use his lucky clover to cure his father.

"I can stay with him, Harry," Draco volunteered.

But the medi-witch quickly nixed that idea. "Mr. Malfoy, you need your sleep too. You have classes and so does Harry. I shall summon a house elf to watch your father. Now off to bed with you."

The boys departed and Poppy sighed and wondered how bad it was going to be. She had a feeling that there would be more cases of wizard flu in the morning, these things tended to spread like wildfire.

March 15, 1994:

The next morning there were several empty chairs at all the tables and everyone was whispering about an epidemic. Dumbledore made an announcement that anyone who felt ill should report to the infirmary immediately. There was an outbreak of wizard flu and several people, including Professor Snape, had already fallen ill.

"Oh my goodness!" Hermione exclaimed. "I hope he's going to be okay."

Harry hoped so too. He quietly gripped his clover in his fist and called upon it to grant him the luck to avoid getting sick, for he needed to be healthy in order to brew the potions. "Katie, I'm going to need your help after class today," he said.

"What's up, Harry? I'm real sorry about your dad. What can I do to help?"

"I need you to help me brew a couple of potions for my dad," Harry said.

Katie agreed immediately. "I can do that. I've brewed both of them before. Have you?"

"No, but I can learn," Harry said. For a moment he almost regretted using his day's luck to avert the flu. He could have used it instead on making him perfect in his brewing. He sighed inwardly. Now he understood what Bridie had meant when she had told him to use his luck wisely.

* * * * * *

That afternoon, Harry was watching Katie brew the first draft of the Magic Replenisher, it was a complex potion with ten ingredients and exacting measurements and things had to be added at different times. But Katie managed to do all of it well and Harry was proud to have such a good potion maker for a girlfriend. "You're an ace, Katie. Not just beautiful, but brilliant."

She smiled at him. "You're sweet, Harry.  This batch should be ready in two hours. Now let's start on the Anti-Inflammatory Elixir. That one's a bit harder, you have to add two ingredients at exactly the same time, which is tricky . . ."

Together, they managed to brew the next potion, and then Harry went to see Severus again.

The Potions Master was being watched over by a house elf, Cafall, Draco, and Philip. All of them were immune to the flu, and took turns sitting beside the stricken Potions Master, feeding him broth and tea and wiping down his face with cool cloths and giving him more potions.

Severus was awake when Harry entered, though he frowned when he caught sight of his son . "Harry, what are you doing here?"

"Hi, Dad. How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy. What do you think? Now get out. I don't want you coming down with this too."

"Dad, I won't."

"Get, dammit!" he pointed to the door, but then spoiled the gesture by coughing loudly. "Phil, get him out of here." Severus gasped when he could speak again.

"Dad, I can't get the flu. I've got a lucky clover."

"Lucky clover, my arse! Harry Albus Snape, leave!"

"Better do as he says, Harry." Phil said kindly.

"But Uncle Phil . . ."

I'll speak with you later, the vampire sent.

Harry went, silently fuming.

He returned to the lab and Katie looked up from chopping up more ingredients. One look at his face and she could tell he was very upset. "What happened, love?"

"Nothing. My dad told me to get lost. Well, not exactly, but he sent me away like I was a puppy he caught peeing on the rug."

"Oh, Harry. I'm sure he didn't mean it like that. He's probably afraid you might come down with this too."

"I won't. I'm lucky. I used the clover to keep me from getting the flu. Only he didn't believe me."

She came and put her arms about him and hugged him.

He rested his head on her shoulder and sighed. Somehow, hugging her made him feel much better. "Need some more help with that?' he asked, indicating her mortar and pestle and the herbs she was grinding.

"If you don't mind." She gave him a quick kiss on the mouth.

He ran his hand through her hair before turning back to the work station and picking up where she had left off.

Thanks to the skills he had learned over the summer from Severus at Prince Manor, he didn't really need luck to brew a good potion.

Phil found the two working side by side industriously some twenty minutes later. "Harry, come here, please."

Harry finished grinding up the echidna and then set down his pestle and walked over to where the vampire waited. Phil touched him lightly on the arm and said, in a tone only Harry could hear, "Harry, your dad didn't mean what he said. Not the way he said it.  You need to understand, this flu is bad, and it can be fatal especially in wizards your age. He's seen kids like you die from it. That's why he was snapping at you. Not because he wants to be nasty, but because he's petrified you'll catch it."

"I know that, but Uncle Phil, listen. I'm not going to catch the flu because I used my lucky four-leaf clover to prevent it. Look." He showed the vampire the magical leaf.

Phil's violet eyes went wide. "Where did you get that?"

"From a leprechaun. I saved her life from a big rat." Harry said. "Then I used it to make myself immune to the wizard flu."

Phil shook his head. "Oh, Harry. Is that what you think?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because, kid, leprechaun magic doesn't work that way. Sure, it'll grant you temporary immunity, but that'll wear off in twenty-four hours. Leprechaun magic can be potent, but it also has a short shelf life. And once you use your luck for a thing, you can't ask for a repeat."

"I can't? But . . .but that's not fair! I never knew that."

"You should have asked for specifics, boy. When you make a deal with the fae . . ."

"She should have told me that!"

"It probably wasn't on purpose.  Most fae assume that you know how their magic works."

"Then that means that I'll be at risk until he's better?"

"Yes, until you go to Madam Pomfrey and get a vaccination."

Harry winced. He hated needles. "When?"

"Now."

Harry grimaced. "Bloody hell!" he went and told Katie where he had to go and then he left, Phil trailing invisibly behind him.

He found half the infirmary filled with sick children in various stages of wizard flu, and half of it filled with other students waiting to be vaccinated.

Harry waited his turn, then went behind the white screened in area, where Madam Pomfrey waited with a single hypodermic filled with a greenish silver liquid. "Ah, Mr. Snape. Right on time. Drop your trousers and lean over my exam table."

Harry froze. "I . . .do you have to give it to me there?"

She nodded. "You're too thin, boy. It'll be easier on you if I give it to you there. Come on now, Harry. I haven't got all day."

Harry bit back a groan. Gritting his teeth, he unbuttoned his trousers. Some wizard's luck he had! He was going to give the conniving leprechaun a piece of his mind when he saw her again.

* * * * * *

March 16th, 1994:

By the third day, Severus began to rally a little, the potions his son and his apprentice had made were top notch and he had a strong constitution to boot.  Even so, he was still confined to his bed and that made him surly and irritable. Poppy had left orders that he wasn't to be allowed to do anything more strenuous than read the newspaper or a novel, and that he should spend most of his time sleeping.

He would have disregarded her orders had he one, not felt like something a herd of unicorns had trampled, and two, if Phil had not been around to make sure he stayed in bed like he was supposed to. His vampire ancestor was not only immune to disease, but also Severus's finely honed deathly glares and threats to hex off portions of his anatomy.

"I'm a vampire, Sev, they'd only grow back. Besides, you'd make Julie angry. And she's worse than that snotrag Voldemort when she's angry, trust me." Phil told him. "Have some apple juice."

Severus scowled and promptly told him what he could do with his damn juice.

Phil rolled his eyes. "You're a Snape, all right.  Hell on wheels to deal with when you're sick. Just like I used to be. Lie down before I tie you to the damn bed, Sev!"

Severus' return glower could have shattered concrete and steel in one glance. But he lay back down.

Phil sighed and thanked Merlin that he was a vampire.

* * * * * *

The substitute they had for potions, a Mr. Tibbs, was so tediously boring that Harry nearly nodded off over his cauldron. He had a more monotone voice than Binns, and that was saying something. Harry felt as if someone had coated all his limbs with wet cement and dumped sand into his eyes. His bum was sore too from that bloody needle.  He would have skipped class altogether, but he wasn't stupid. Or suicidal, more's the pity. Severus would have skinned and hung him out to dry if he had found out Harry had cut class. Especially potions.

Tibbs droned on about the various properties of asphodel and Harry contemplated his fingernails. Trust Dumbledore to hire some boring old pedant. Harry thought he might have learned more running the class himself.

He rubbed the clover between his fingers, but he did not make a wish. Maybe he would get lucky and Tibbs would put himself to sleep and then they would all leave. But the tall blond-haired teacher continued to lecture, ignoring the glazed looks on the face of his students.

Harry caught Draco's eyeroll and mimed throwing the teacher into his own cauldron.  Anything to shut him up.

Draco grinned and made a gagging motion.

Harry nodded and gave him a thumbs up.

"I need a volunteer to fetch me the ingredients for a Euphoria Draft. Who would like to go? Ah, Mr. Snape, how nice of you to raise your hand."

Harry gasped. He hadn't raised his hand. Tibbs squinted and made a beckoning motion.  "Sir?"

"Here's the list of ingredients you'll need. Fetch them for me if you would."

Harry looked down the list, they were mostly rare ingredients that Snape kept in his private storeroom. The one which only three or four people ever went into, and two of them were family members-Severus and Harry, the Headmaster, and Poppy. Severus had given Harry the password yesterday, when Harry had visited him after getting vaccinated.

"Yes, sir. Be right back." He rose and walked out of the classroom and into the private lab Severus had attached to his office. The storeroom was inside there.

He spoke the password and opened the door. Everything inside the storeroom was neat and labeled and alphabetized. The only bad thing was that the shelf he needed to get the most important ingredient for the potion was right above his head.

He carefully rolled the small ladder over and climbed it, then reached for the jar of august beetle carapaces. As he was stretching for the jar, which was all the way in the back, his sneaker slipped.

Frantic, he grabbed onto anything to keep from falling. The shelf shook and tottered and all the precious ingredients clanked and jostled each other and threatened to fall on the floor and shatter in a million pieces.

No, oh no! Not Dad's potions! He'll kill me for destroying them. Kill me! Please, Merlin help me. Don't let them fall.

He had a horrifying image in his head of the entire shelf falling and potions smashing upon the floor like ninepins. And then another of Severus standing over him, white with rage.

He had one hand in his pocket, rubbing the clover.  "Reverse!"

He felt the now familiar brush of the clover's magic, running through him like liquid flame. Then it coated the shelf green and vanished.  Harry breathed a sigh of relief and he could feel the luck snapping about him in a great bubble. At least he wasn't in danger of dying at Severus' hands now. His foot found purchase on the ladder and he stood.

He quickly finished getting the ingredients and bringing them back to the room.

Tibbs made some comment like, "Finally, Mr. Snape!" but Harry ignored it.

Finally the lesson was over and Harry had the satisfaction of hearing a Gryffindor say, "You know, never thought I'd say this, but I can't wait till Snape comes back."

* * * * * *

"How gratifying to know that I am better than some terrible bore," said Severus when Harry told him about how dreadful Tibbs was and what the Gryffindor had said.

"See? I told you your students love you," Harry teased.

"Impudent brat!" his father mock-growled, but there was a smile playing about the stern features. "You've been stuck in the castle all day. Why don't you go outside and play Quidditch?"

"But what about you?"

"I can amuse myself with my books and anagrams and such. Go, before you start going stir crazy." Snape waved him away. He could tell his son was itching to go and do something that did not involve parchment and ink. 

"All right. See you later."

He found Ron in the common room and asked if he and the twins and Katie wanted to play Quidditch. Then he asked Smidgen to invite Draco too and the six of them played a rousing game of Keep Away Quaffle. 

But it was anyone's guess who won and he was still arguing about it a little with Draco when they headed down to the Snape apartments to have dinner with their father and uncle.

Severus invited Harry to play some chess, and to everyone's astonishment, Harry won. It was a rare thing for him to win against Severus, who was a master, and he was quite pleased with himself. "Guess my luck is still going strong."

"Either that or my brain is still muddled from being sick," Severus said.

Harry merely grinned and rubbed his hand over the clover.

That night before bed he pulled out the four-leaf clover and looked at it. It had lost much of it's luster, looking more and more ordinary, all except for one single lobe, which still sparkled gold with hidden luck. He had one more day and then his luck would be gone.

March 17, 1994:

 The Great Hall was all decked out in green for the occasion, green painted the walls and the ceilings were filled with floating shamrocks and rainbow and fake pieces of fool's gold, which Ron tried to catch and stuff in his pocket until Hermione kicked him under the table and told him to quit making an ass out of himself, that the gold wasn't real.

"Oh. I knew that." He said defensively. "What, you think I'm stupid?"

Harry yawned, he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. He noticed that all the plates had green stripes or shamrocks or tiny dancing leprechauns on them. Even the fire in the fireplace this morning was burning with an odd smoky odor.

"What's that smell?" asked Dean, wrinkling his nose.

Seamus took a whiff and sighed appreciatively. "Ahh! That's the smell of turf. A good peat fire, like my gran used to burn on Sunday."

"Ugh! Smells like burnt dirt. What's wrong with wood?" Clearly Dean did not appreciate the Irish touch.

"Barbarian," Seamus muttered.

Breakfast that morning was oatcakes and bacon, buttered potatoes, oatmeal, warm soda bread with raisins, and green milk poured from the pitchers.

"Look, Harry! The leprechauns were here," Hermione said happily.

Some of the girls laughed at her.

"Wonder what we'll have at the feast? Maybe this year Dumbledore will finally let us have green beer," said Seamus wistfully.

"Sure, Finnegan. That'll be the day." Ron snorted.

"I always wanted to taste green beer," said Neville.

Harry was kind of curious too, but then he recalled the last time he had experimented with an alcoholic beverage-the fae cordial summerdew-and decided he was better off not knowing.

He had not slept well last night and he dragged himself to class. He dozed in Charms, managed to keep awake in Transfiguration by poking himself with the pin he was supposed to change into a raven, and only remembered that he had an Herbology exam as he was setting foot in the greenhouse.

An exam he had not studied for. 

Bloody damn hell!  He struggled frantically to recall the material, but his mind was a blank.  If he failed this exam, he would be grounded till Easter break, or maybe even over the break, depending on how mad Severus got. His fingers lingered upon the clover in his pocket.

Should he use this last bit of luck to help him pass the exam?

It did feel sort of like cheating and Severus would never have approved.

Harry closed his eyes, deliberating.

Professor Sprout had them do the practical part of the exam first. Harry at least remembered how to feed the Venemous Tantagula correctly. But when they went back to her classroom for the written portion of the exam, he stared at the sheet of parchment with the test questions and couldn't remember a single thing.

It was as if he'd been Obliviated.

He panicked utterly then.

His hand closed about the clover.

Give me luck.

He felt the last of the leprechaun's magic attach itself to him.

Then he picked up his quill and began to write, his mind suddenly sharp and clear.

* * * * * *

Over lunch, which was potato leek soup and cabbage salad, plus brown bread with butter and large crispy fried sausage, Ron asked Harry if he'd used up all his luck yet.  "Hope not, cause we play Hufflepuff today for the Shamrock Bowl."

Harry nearly choked upon his soup. "Oh, damn! I forgot!"

"You used it already?" Ron cried.

"I . . .I had to, Ron! Otherwise I'd have failed my Herbology exam."

"Harry!" Hermione cried, aghast. "You used magic to cheat on a test?"

"No! It wasn't like that. I just asked for a little bit of luck," Harry said defensively. "That's not cheating."

"Harry, it's wrong to use magic that way," she argued.

"Yeah and now you can't use it when you play today," Ron groused. "I was going to bet the twins my only Galleon that we'd win."

"We'll win anyhow, Ron. I don't need luck to play Quidditch." Harry said irritably. "I never did before and I don't now. Trust me."

"It would have been better if you had saved it," Ron mourned.

"Well, I didn't, so get over it!" Harry snapped. Had Ron forgotten that Quidditch wasn't about luck, but skill? Harry had practiced for hours and honed his natural talents in order to be as good as he was. Luck had nothing to do with it.

Or did it?

He pulled out the clover and saw that all the sparkle had vanished. No more leprechaun luck.

It doesn't matter. I can win the game without it.

After the traditional dinner of corned beef and cabbage, carrots and buttered potatoes that was always served on St. Patrick's Day, everyone headed out to the pitch for the game.  In honor of the day, the two teams wore Irish colors, Hufflepuff was green and Gryffindor orange.

Harry waited until the Quaffle was launched before looking for the elusive Snitch.

And for the first time ever, he could not find it.

His eyes darted here and there and saw nothing except the rings and the sky.

He flew up, watching the Hufflepuff Seeker, Cedric Diggory. 

Diggory seemed focused and went into a dive just before the Gryffindor goal post.

Harry followed, thinking that Diggory had spotted the Snitch, only to discover the maneuver had been a feint.

He pulled up just in time to avoid a Bludger.

Stupid, Harry! Stupid!

He whipped back around, ignoring the screams and jeers from the stands.

Where was the Snitch? It had to be here somewhere.

Minutes went by. George batted a Bludger away from him. Katie scored three goals. Gryffindor was ahead by five points.

His team was playing well but not as good as they might have been.

Harry was starting to sweat beneath his orange robes. Why couldn't he find the Snitch? Had Ron been right after all? Was it mostly luck and not skill?

Why did I ever use my luck on that stupid test? I might have passed.

But even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn't have. He was not like Hermione, he needed to study in order to retain information, he didn't have a sponge for a brain.

He flew higher, his eyes darting every which way.

Where was it?

There, was that a flash of gold?

His eyes narrowed.  I make my own luck.

Then he saw the tiny winged globe come arrowing out of a cloud bank.

He dove for it, his arm outstretched.

Opposite him, Cedric saw it too and he dove also.

The crowd went wild, screaming, for it was anyone's guess which Seeker would grab the Snitch first.

Harry crouched low over his Firebolt, mentally urging every bit of speed out of it that he could.

Come on. Come on!

He saw Cedric's hand brush the globe.

The Snitch jerked and spun, and Harry's fingers snapped over it, caging it before it could escape.

"Harry Snape has caught the Snitch!" yelled Ernie MacMillian. "One hundred and fifty points! Gryffindor wins!"

Harry did a victory lap before settling back to the ground and handing the Snitch over to Madamn Hooch.

"Well done, Mr. Snape. Guess today you have the luck of the Irish," she said, stuffing the ball back in its case.

Harry smiled. "No, ma'am. Just plain old wizard's luck."

* * * * * *

 He arrived at his father's quarters breathless, having finally managed to get away from the Gryffindors, who were throwing another party in the common room to celebrate their victory. His Housemates seemed to use any excuse for a party, but Harry was tired and his head was throbbing. Plus he wanted to tell Severus about his victory.

But when he entered the suite, he found Phil on the couch. "Congratulations on your win," the vampire said. "That was some fancy bit of flying."

"Thanks. Is Dad awake?"

"Not yet. He's asleep."

"Oh. Guess I'll just wait here then till he wakes up." Harry said, sitting down on the couch.

"Did you use your clover during that game?"

"No. That time I made my own luck."

"Good for you! Sometimes that's the best kind of luck," Phil said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I need to go hunt, Harry.  Would you mind staying here? I should be back in an hour or two."

"No. I wanted to tell Dad about the match."

Phil nodded, then he veiled himself and disappeared.  Harry saw the door open and close and then he was alone in the suite except for Severus, who was sound asleep in the bedroom.

There came a sudden pop and a shower of golden sparkles. Harry blinked as a tiny green-clad lady appeared on the arm of the couch. "Hello, Bridie."

"We meet again, young Prince!" she said, smiling. "How has yer luck been running, lad?"

"Good." He reached into his pocket for the clover. "Guess you'll be wanting this back."

"Aye," she took the clover and blew upon it.

Gold dust settled over it once more and it glowed. "Once again, I thank ye for saving my life. But now all debts are paid.  I hear ye won a great victory today."

"Yes. My House beat Hufflepuff in the Shamrock Bowl."

"Congratulations! ‘Tis a grand thing. Would ye like to celebrate with some nuts and candy and green beer? ‘Tis on the house." She winked at him.

Before he could say Quidditch, she had summoned up a large bowl of nuts and raisins with chocolate chips and two mugs of green beer.  Large for a leprechaun, that is.  The bowl of nuts and chocolate was the size of Harry's hand, and the beer mugs were the size of a large thimble.

Harry ate some nuts and looked at the beer dubiously. Did he dare to drink it?

"Why are ye hesitating, laddie?" asked Bridie. "'Tis my own family recipe in that pint. Now drink up."

"How strong is it?"

Bridie laughed. "'Tis a wee dram! Nothing to the likes o'you."

Harry sniffed it. It smelled faintly of peat and something else he couldn't name. He felt ridiculous fretting over a drink the size of a thimble. He clinked the mug with the leprechaun and drank the beer.

It tasted rather odd, but otherwise wasn't bad.

"See? Ye want some more? ‘Twill take more than one drink to get the party started."

Harry allowed her to refill his glass and drank again. The beer tingled over his tongue.  It was a great drink, he really enjoyed it. His head was buzzing and somehow he slid from the couch to the floor, gazing into the flickering flames and grinning to himself.

Bridie said something, he couldn't quite make it out, his head felt sort of fuzzy.

The leprechaun chuckled. "Humans! They never can stomach heather ale." Then she climbed on Harry's shoulder and yelled in his ear. "'Tis time for me to go, Harry. Fare thee well and if ye ever need assistance, or a good shoemaker, call me. Happy St. Patrick's Day to ye!"

With that, she was gone, leaving only a cloud of golden sparkles.

Harry sat on the floor, staring bemusedly into the fire. He was wearing a goofy smile on his face and singing softly the only Irish song he knew, about unicorns being left off the Ark. " . . . Green alligators and long-necked geese
Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees
Some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you're born
Don't you forget My unicorns." he warbled, very off key, but he couldn't tell that because he was sloshed.

Severus was awakened by the most ungodly caterwauling, and he winced and covered his ears with the pillow. But when that failed to get him some peace and quiet, he threw off the blankets and stood up, determined to find whatever was making that awful sound and put it out of its misery.

Harry looked up as the door slammed and saw a tall figure in a deep green dressing gown step out of thin air. "Hi, Dad. Do you know where I can find some unicorns?"

Severus stared down at his son. "Harry Albus Snape, are you drunk?"

Uh oh. I think . . .I think I'm in trouble.

Harry gulped and looked up at his stormy-eyed father and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly he didn't think it had been such a good idea to drink that green beer. He swallowed hard and even through the haze of alcohol knew one thing with utter certainty.

His luck had just run out.