April, 1993

Hogwarts School:

Harry was lifted onto the shoulders of his Slytherin teammates and paraded around the pitch. He had just won his third game of the season, beating out Ravenclaw, and now they would play Gryffindor for the finals. His sister Lexy also played on the team as a Chaser, while Harry was Seeker. Lexy was grinning as she snapped his photo with her new Insta-Magik camera she'd gotten for Christmas that year.

"Three cheers for the Slytherin Skyrocket!" she yelled, jumping up and down. She had coined that nickname for her brother when he started getting known for his signature move—the Snape Special-which was a spectacular dive from over eighty feet above the pitch. Now he was even faster due to his new broom, the Nimbus 2001, which he had earned the money for himself by selling a certain sexy photo of his dad, Master Healer Severus Snape.

Severus was actually his and Lexy's adopted father, though only Lexy carried his name. Harry had kept his real dad's name, to honor the man who had died defeating Voldemort, James Potter. They also had a small sister, Eileen Lily, who was three, and Lexy's half-sister by blood, since her mother had married Severus years ago. Alaina was an American and a Muggle, but Harry considered her his mum, since he barely remembered his real mother, Lily, who had died when he was only four, after a long battle with lupus.**

Finally his ecstatic teammates put Harry down, slapping him on the back.

"You done good, Potter," praised Flint, the team captain. "Best Seeker in a century, I'll bet."

"And that new Nimbus sure helped," Draco said, mussing up Harry's hair playfully. He played second Chaser. "Mum promised me my own if I keep my grades up."

"Stop, Malfoy!" Harry ordered, mock-cuffing Draco in return about the back of the head. "You know I hate it when my hair goes all crazy." He tried without success to smooth down the messy mop.

Draco grinned devilishly. "You look electrified, Potter." he smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes at him. "Yeah, whatever. How do you think you did on the last exam in Transfiguration?"

"I think I aced it," replied the Chaser. "You?"

Harry shrugged. "About the same as usual." He didn't want to brag, but he was a natural in that subject.

"Which means he got the top grade in the class," Lexy translated. Her strength was Charms and also potions. "Dad's gonna be real proud of you this year, Harry. Not only are you doing well in academics, but you're becoming a great Seeker too. Want me to send him the picture I just took?" she offered. "So he can see how well our star Seeker did?"

"Sure, Lex." Harry said. He was sorry Severus had missed the match, but he knew his father couldn't help it. Severus had owled him just that morning, apologizing that he had to cancel watching the game because he had to an emergency appendectomy on a five-year-old boy. Harry understood though. His father was in high demand, he was the best Healer in St. Mungos, especially when it came to doing pediatric surgery or curing spell damage. Harry someday wanted to be both Healer and Potions Master, like Severus, and he knew that if he had to be operated on, the only wand he'd allow near him was his father's.

While Lexy called for her owl, Sneetches, to deliver the picture to Snape's office, Harry followed the rest of his teammates into the Slytherin locker room to change out of his Quidditch robes.

As he pulled on his uniform, Harry listened to the discussions of his mates. The most discussed topic, besides the price of horned slugs at the apothecary or the match between the Wasps and the Cannons coming up next week, was the trip to Hogsmeade later on that day.

Harry listened with envy as the older Slytherins, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth years, all started talking about getting a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks, and choosing sweets from Honeydukes and touching the door of the haunted Shrieking Shack for two minutes with getting their soul sucked out by the wraiths who lived there. He so wanted to go to Hogsmeade with the rest of his team . . . well, the rest of the team except Draco, who was also a second year and couldn't go either.

He looked over at Draco, who was knotting his tie, and sighed. "I sure wish I could go to Hogsmeade like the rest of them."

"Me too. It sucks we have to wait a whole other year before we can go," Draco commiserated. "I want to touch the door of the Shrieking Shack."

"I want to have butterbeer and eat a chocolate bar," Harry said wistfully. He knew if he asked, Flint or one of the other team members would happily bring him back something, but he didn't want to just eat the food, he wanted to get the whole experience. If only the school rules let second years go to Hogsmeade!

"Keep dreaming, Harry," Draco sighed. "It's all we can do in Binn's class anyway." They had that class as their last one on Friday, just before dinner.

While any other professor would have cancelled class due to the Quidditch game in the early afternoon, Binns, a ghost, refused to do so. Binns never cancelled class unless directly ordered to by Dumbledore, he felt nothing was more important than History of Magic, and he had died lecturing it. Harry wished he had died and gone to heaven, instead of lingering here on earth and making his afternoon miserable. Then again, Binns was so boring probably God and the angels didn't want to listen to him.

Harry scowled as he tied his sneakers. "I wish there was a way we could . . . skip History of Magic," he grumbled.

Draco's eyes widened. "And just how do you think we could do that, Potter? You know the only excuse Binns ever accepts is a signed note from a Healer to miss class. You got any of those lying about?"

"Well, no." Harry muttered, his face falling. Then he brightened as a new idea bloomed in his cunning brain. "But wait . . . maybe I can get hold of my dad's official stationary . . . the one he uses to write letters home to patients with test results and notes for the primary schoolers who need a sick excuse," Harry said excitedly.

Draco stared at him. "What are you thinking of, Harry?"

"I'm thinking of a way to ditch Binns' class and have some fun."

"You mean you're going to . . . forge a note from your dad?" Draco coughed. "Harry, you're insane! Do you know how much trouble you'll be in if you're caught?"

"But that's just it. I'm not going to get caught, because you can cover for me, right? You can tell old Ghastly that I all of a sudden came down with . . . uh . . . a stomach flu . . . and the last time you saw me I was . . . puking up my toenails or something."

"You want me to lie for you, Potter, so you can go off and have a good old time while I'm stuck listening to Binns drone on and on about the stupid Goblin rebellion of 1778?" Draco frowned.

"You want to come, Malfoy? Fine. I'll write the note for both of us." Harry said. "Dad was supposed to be here for the game, and Binns will never know if he was here or not, since he never leaves his classroom. I could write the note and leave it on his desk Saturday morning or whatever."

"Why don't you just get Lexy to hand it to him before class?" suggested Draco.

"No way. She'd never go for it. She's Miss Obey the Rules, and she'd be sure to try and stop us."

"Would she . . . tell your dad?" asked Draco.

"No . . . she's not a snitch, but if Dad ever found out or something . . . she couldn't lie to him and say she didn't know anything. So it's easier for everyone this way." Harry said. "Hang on a minute," he said, and pulled out a small box from his pocket. "Bought these off Gred and Forge. Skivving Snackboxes. It's candy that will make you sick enough to skip class. There's Fever Fudge and Nauseating Nougat. So we won't be totally lying our arses off."

Malfoy stared at the innocent looking piece of nougat. "How sick will this make me? I don't want to be puking for hours."

"Fred said you only feel sick to your stomach and barf once. Then it wears off after twenty minutes and you're fine. He's already tested it on himself . . . and Ron too." Harry said. "It's made with a small amount of ipecac syrup."

"Huh? What's that?"

"A Muggle medicine that makes you vomit. It's harmless. My dad sometimes uses it to make little kids throw up if they've swallowed stuff, like a penny or a magnet, little things like that. It's easier on their systems than a Vomit Inducer." Harry explained glibly.

"How'd the Weasleys know about it then?" asked Draco, puzzled.

"Dad gave their mum some to keep once, when Ron swallowed a button when he was little. They remembered it once I mentioned that, and decided to try it out. It works. Trust me."

"If I die, Potter, I'll come back and haunt you for all eternity," promised Draco.

"Malfoy, don't be a drama queen!" Harry ordered, sniggering. "I'm a Healer's son, for Merlin's sake! My dad taught me all about safe home remedies when I was eight. Ipecac's not fatal. Ready? We have to do this now, while the rest of the team's still here."

"I don't want to sick up in front of them!" Draco protested, for he was a very proud and private individual.

"Witnesses," Harry reminded him. "And there are toilets over here." He said, rolling his eyes. "But hey, if you'd rather be stuck in History of Magic . . ."

"Forget that, Potter!" Draco snorted. He popped the Nauseating Nougat into his mouth and chewed.

Harry followed Draco's example. The sweet didn't taste bad . . . it was sugary and vanilla tasting. He chewed three times to make sure the center was reached, then he swallowed. George had assured him the nougat would take effect in about thirty seconds or less.

Harry wrapped his arms about his stomach and said loudly, so the rest of his teammates that still lingered could hear, "Oooh! All of a sudden, I don't feel good."

"Me neither!" Draco echoed, groaning.

"Do you feel like you're gonna puke?" Harry whimpered, clamping a hand over his mouth as his stomach suddenly started churning.

"Uh huh," Draco replied, then he turned green and dashed for the three toilets at the far end of the locker room.

A moment later Harry raced over too.

"Hey, you two!" called Flint, wincing at the sounds of retching coming from the stalls. "Whatever you've got, don't give to the rest of us. Get to the Hospital Wing and let Pomfrey give you something, got me?"

"Sure, Flint," Draco called weakly. "Soon as I stop throwing up, okay?"

"Must be astomach flu," Harry called from inside the stall, just before he started a second round of vomiting. "Damn!" he swore, thinking Fred and George must have added a bit too much ipecac to this batch. But it would be fine, the sicker he appeared, the easier it would be for him to forge Severus' signature and write the note.

"Maybe it was something they ate?" mused a teammate.

"Well, I'm not standing around here waiting to catch it," argued another. "Hogsmeade, here I come!"

Inside the stall, Harry smiled slightly. Here we come too, even if you don't know it yet. Of course, we'll have to keep out of sight mostly, but that's okay. I can use a charm to change our hair color and eyes. Too bad I can't lose my glasses, but . . . oh well. "Draco?" he called softly. "You all right?"

"Just brilliant, why?" came the sulky answer.

Harry listened for the sound of footsteps and the slamming of the locker room door. "Coast is clear, Malfoy. Let the Great Hogsmeade Caper begin!" He cautiously opened the stall door and came out, using a cup to rinse out his mouth. Then he waited for Draco. "We can use the secret passage underneath the one-eyed humpbacked witch statue that the twins showed me," he told the other Slytherin.

Draco nodded, looking slightly green still. "This had better wear off soon, Potter, or I'm killing you." He also rinsed out his mouth, thinking he had lost his mind to be going along with this scheme. Narcissa would skin him if she ever found out. "All right. Let's go."

"Wait. Let me cast an Illusion Charm first," Harry cautioned, waving his wand. Soon they were disguised, Harry now had red hair and blue eyes, like a Weasley, and Draco dark hair that stuck up and brown eyes.

They departed the locker room, careful to move like they were feeling sick, and headed to the corridor with the one-eyed humpbacked witch statue.