Vice versa (Harry Potter)

"Sir, may I ask you a question?"

When Potter started a conversation like this, it was a reason to be cautious. However, Snape was so exhausted that he failed to notice the danger. Besides, the boy had been unusually quiet lately, not bothering him with questions as if he sensed something.

"Yes?"

"You knew my father's friends, didn't you?"

"I did," the professor grimaced. "From their very worst side."

"Can you tell me about them?" Potter took off his glasses and stared intently, firmly, and very seriously.

"I don't like to recall those times."

"Sir, I really need to know. As far as I'm aware, my godfather is in prison without any solid evidence of his guilt. And I promised to find out if he really did it!"

"Who did you promise?" Snape snapped.

"To Headmaster Black," Potter answered grimly. "He's... a very persuasive portrait. No idea what he was like in life, but..."

"You really got yourself into this..." Snape's inner battle between his dislike for the boy's father and a surprising pang of sympathy ended with the latter winning for some reason. "Fine. But I'll keep it brief. If something's unclear, ask."

"Thank you, sir!" Harry quickly pulled up a chair across from him. "So, what's the story?"

"There were four of them," Snape said, looking off to the side. "Close as could be."

"Like musketeers," Potter snorted.

"Marauders. That's what they called themselves," Snape clarified, catching Harry's puzzled look. "Your father was the ringleader. The brain and strength of the gang. Clever and calculating, I'll give him that... Your future godfather, Black, was pure energy. It poured out of him."

"If only he had channeled it into something peaceful..." Harry muttered.

"Exactly," the professor caught his words. "He could be charming, girls adored him, but when he got angry... only James could stop him."

Snape fell silent.

"I read about Peter Pettigrew, the one Black supposedly killed," Harry said. "He was part of their group too, right?"

"Yes," Snape answered reluctantly. "He was... insignificant. Trailed after them, did the dirty work. They called him Wormtail."

"And who was the fourth?"

"Remus Lupin," the professor's hand involuntarily touched his chest. "A werewolf."

"At school?! A werewolf?!" Harry jumped up. "But how—"

"Dumbledore is exceptionally kind. A poor boy afflicted with lycanthropy deserved an education, never mind that no one would hire him later," Snape said bitterly. "Or that he nearly killed me. He couldn't control himself, you see!"

"Oh, sir..." Harry, who had read extensively about werewolves, pulled his chair closer to Snape. "I didn't expect that!"

"But that's how it was. The Marauders in all their glory. An Invisibility Cloak, which you seem to have misplaced..."

"And I'm not telling you where," Harry retorted.

"And other tricks I can only guess at," Snape finished. "The school trembled under their antics."

"I can imagine... Did the others have nicknames too?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said Pettigrew was Wormtail. What about the others?"

"Black was Padfoot, Lupin was Moony, and your father was Prongs."

"Why?"

Snape sighed heavily. If he'd told Potter "A," he had to follow with "B" and recite the entire alphabet to the bitter end.

"Lupin was a werewolf," he repeated. "To keep him company during... special nights, the other three learned to transform into animals. To... uh... keep him entertained and roam the area with him."

"Oh..." Harry pushed his glasses to the tip of his nose, his green eyes wide. "Prongs—a stag, right?"

"A deer."

"Got it... Moony makes sense... What about Padfoot?"

"A dog. A large black dog."

"Thanks. And Wormtail?"

"A rat," Snape said disdainfully.

"How did he keep up with them?" Harry suddenly giggled. "On my father's back? And why didn't the werewolf hunt the deer?"

"Merlin, how should I know?" Snape asked wearily. "One encounter with Lupin was enough for me... Your father liked to boast about heroically saving me, but really, he just saved his friend. I was ready to hit him with an Avada. And now I owe him a life debt, can you believe it?"

"Sir..." Harry cautiously touched Snape's hand. "It was a long time ago. Most of them are gone now, and those who aren't are in a bad place. Don't dwell on it."

"Are you trying to teach me now?" Snape pulled his hand away and slumped. "But you're right. What else do you want?"

"Black," Harry reminded him. "I've read tons of articles but still don't understand what happened."

"He went mad," Snape snorted.

"Can you start from the beginning and make it simple?"

"Do you know about the Fidelius Charm that protected your parents' house? Only the Secret Keeper or the owners could reveal the location."

"I read about it, yeah..."

"Well, Black was the Secret Keeper," Snape said darkly. "He let the Dark Lord in."

"Sir, are you delusional?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Potter, don't push your luck."

"No, really! If he did that, why did he go to London, kill Pettigrew and a bunch of others, then let himself get arrested and thrown in prison? Was he completely off his rocker?" Harry twirled his finger near his temple. "You said Black was reckless, but not totally nuts!"

The professor shook his head silently. Harry tactfully looked away, pretending not to notice how Snape's hair had improved. Girls were already stealing glances when light hit it just right. That's what a decent shampoo can do, even if it's meant for horses...

"I don't know," Snape said.

"Can't I at least meet my godfather?" Harry asked. "Like, request a visit?"

"They won't let you."

"Bastards," Harry muttered darkly. "May I go, sir?"

"A date?"

"Yeah. You know how it is..."

"Get out, Potter."

*

«Hello, Apple Codling Moth!

Things are really awful here. Turns out my dad was an Animagus—you know, one of those who can turn into an animal. A deer, no less! His company wasn't much better: a dog, a rat, and a werewolf. (By the way, I'll try to learn it too—I want to be a badger: looks unimpressive, like some clumsy lump, but provoke it, and you'll regret it!) Anyway, I didn't learn anything useful from the professor. So my godfather was a fool—what of it? He kept our house's secret, led the killers there… But why did he reveal himself so much afterward? Was it on purpose? Like, hiding from the Dark Lord in prison? That's nonsense… I just don't get it!»

*

«Hello, Lemon Eater!

You're right, it's a mess. If only you could talk to your godfather, but alas...

Mate, listen, I have this nagging feeling you said something important, but I forgot. It was definitely about rats. Think about it, will you? Maybe something will come to mind.

P.S. Here are more caps for Luna. Say hi to her.»

*

«Apple Codling Moth! You're a genius!

P.S. She says thanks, but it's enough now. Time to switch to new materials. She says hi to you, too.»

*

"Sir," Harry called softly to the professor, hunched over a pile of parchment. It was clear he had no intention of checking them. "May I ask a question?"

"Well?"

"My father was friends with Black?"

"Logically, if he named him your godfather!"

"Something doesn't add up…" Harry muttered, propping his chin on his hands. Shen, dangling from his neck, nudged his face, and her owner patted her on the head like a cat.

"What doesn't add up?"

"Whoever I ask, they say they were friends, Black would have ripped anyone apart for my father, even the Dark Lord. And suddenly he betrayed him. That doesn't happen. Could he have been forced? You talked about Unforgivable Curses…"

"The Aurors checked—Black was fully in control of himself."

"Did he have the Mark, sir?" Harry suddenly asked.

"N-no…" the professor stammered. "And I… I never saw him at meetings… You understand."

"Either he was a deeply embedded agent, or he's innocent," Harry muttered. "Sorry to bother you, sir."

Snape flinched: the thoughtful expression on Potter's face could only mean one thing—he was planning something mischievous.

*

«Hello, Apple Codling Moth!

Things are getting even more tangled. Ask your dad to find out who's managing Sirius Black's capital while he's rotting in prison. If it doesn't work, no big deal—nothing ventured, nothing gained!»

*

«Hello, Lemon Eater!

Sorry for the delay. Dad asked for a consultation, and the bank went into full chaos! Your godfather—no idea what got into him (maybe he really was drunk)—transferred his assets to… guess who? Yep, to you! Pretty wild, huh?

No idea what's left of his fortune. There are houses, estates, and some inalienable property, but honestly, I fear your godfather might barely have enough to live on.»

*

«Thanks, Codling Moth.

This is much worse than I initially thought. I'll keep you posted!»

*

«Eater, I remembered. Rat. First year. Got it now?»

*

"Keep your Wrackspurts under control," Luna said, silently appearing behind him.

"I'm trying," Harry replied sadly and hugged her. "They're just so unruly…"

"You can train them," the girl smiled, and a note slipped into his sleeve.

"So teach me how!"

"It won't work. Everyone has their own," she said seriously and walked away.

"All right," Harry thought, reading Terry's letter. "We'll have to work crudely."

*

"Sir, tell me," he asked Snape that evening, "can rats live more than three… well, five years?"

"No," the professor answered without looking up from his book.

"I've searched all the encyclopedias; I thought maybe it's some magical one, but there's nothing like that."

"What are you talking about?" the professor woke up.

"About Weasley's rat, sir. Ron said it was passed down to him from Percy… and, well, think about it, it's over ten years old! At first, I thought when one dies, they just buy a new one—people often do that so kids don't get upset. But surely the Weasleys aren't such sadists that they'd cut off the same finger every time? To make it look exactly like the old one? I asked the twins, and they say it's the same one, no one's been maiming it on purpose, and they wouldn't lie without reason..."

"Finger?" Snape asked in a dangerous tone.

"Yeah, on its front paw."

"Potter…" The professor barely managed to keep his voice steady. "Get me that rat!"

"Alive or what?" Harry asked business-like.

"Alive, definitely," Snape breathed out. "I'll… experiment on it! Can you manage?"

"No problem!"

At first, Harry wanted to enlist Shen, but she regretfully informed him she'd either eat or poison the rat immediately. Instincts, you see! So he had to call in Mrs. Norris.

"Bring me a rat, kitty," Harry whispered to the cat. "Any rat, but a male would be better. I'll owe you one, you know that!"

"Frrr!" she said and dashed off somewhere.

... "Weasley, your rat hasn't croaked yet?" Harry's voice rang out as they were leaving the Great Hall. "Ugh, it reeks as if it's been dead a week…"

"Shut up, Potter!"

"You shut up!"

A rough shoulder bump later, Weasley's sluggish old rat, firmly stunned with a spell, ended up in Harry's pocket…

"Give Corcus back!"

"Take your creature, then! It's even moving—I thought it was done for!" Harry sneered, shoving a stunned wild gray rat into Weasley's hands before running off.

... "Sir!"

"If you barge in like this again, don't bother coming back," Snape said calmly.

Something slammed into the door behind Potter.

"Sir, a gang of Gryffindors is chasing me, but I got the rat! Well, they're chasing me because I didn't get away cleanly!"

"Under the table," the professor commanded, waited for compliance, and opened the door. "Now then… Why are you pounding on my door? No extra lessons for you, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom… Miss Granger, what dreadful company have you chosen? I thought better of you!"

"Potter's hiding here!" Weasley blurted out.

"Here? Potter? Are you out of your minds?" Snape sighed. "And how long am I supposed to stand here? What's the matter?"

"He stole my rat! He swapped it!" Weasley showed off a large gray rat, now awake, shrieking hoarsely, and trying to bite his finger. The others nodded, but before Granger could open her mouth, the professor said firmly:

"Take your speculations about Potter, rat-swapping, and the rest—to the hospital wing. Better yet, straight to Mungo's."

And slammed the door shut.

"Here's the creature, sir," Harry said quietly, crawling out from under the table. "Could we get a cage…?"

"Why? Call Shen—"

"Better not. Well… he's a witness, right? If it's really him. Shen might just poison him; she's said as much."

"True. I'm getting old," Snape muttered, shaking his head. With a flick of his wand, he transfigured a cage from a first-year's assignment. Lucky them—they'll have to rewrite it! "Hand me the rat."

"Here! Can I go wash my hands?"

"Over there," the professor gestured, staring at the rat frozen in the cage. "Now, what should I do with you first, Pettigrew?"

The rat began to tremble.

"Actually, call Shen anyway, Potter," Snape requested, eyeing the rodent's agony with fascination.

A few minutes later, a painted, nearly two-meter-long snake slithered onto Harry's lap.

"Shall I eat him?" she asked.

"No, just scare him. But not to death."

"An old, tas-telesss rat…" Shen coiled around the cage and slid her slender head between the bars. "Come here, rat…"

"Sir, he might have a heart attack," Harry said, concerned as he watched the scene unfold. "Can you turn an Animagus back into a human?"

"I can."

"Well, then, turn him back. Shen can guard him. And if he dies in the process…" Harry pondered for a moment. "There's always a Pensieve and Veritaserum! Don't get me wrong; I don't even remember my godfather, but doing this to him—it's not fair, right?"

"No," Snape said grimly. "Even he didn't deserve all those years in Azkaban."

"And Pettigrew—did he deserve all those years as a rat?" Harry asked slyly.

"Well, that was Peter's personal choice," the professor replied with a smirk.

"Fair enough. Oh, there's something else, sir. I'll tell you later, but you can probably guess—it's all about money again…"

"I think I know what you mean," Snape nodded. "One of your godfather's uncles gave him a substantial sum… for which he was promptly blasted off the family tree. After your parents' deaths, Black inherited quite a fortune as well. Am I correct?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, clearly enjoying the rare experience of talking to someone intelligent. "And my godfather left it all to me. You know who's behind this."

"Understood," Snape hissed. "Well then, call off the snake!"

"Shen, come here, or you'll get hit by a stray spell!"

The snake reluctantly uncoiled from the cage and slithered into Harry's hands.

"Well then, Peter," Snape said in a tone so chilling that Harry shuddered. "Reveal your true form to us!"

*

«Hello, my little codling moth!

Let me tell you—it was disgusting. The rat lay at our feet, crying and begging for forgiveness, but we were united on one thing—only a public trial would do! The key was avoiding the headmaster: I figured if he found out about the rat, he'd either cover it up, hide him, or kill him and then claim that was the way it always was. So, you-know-who summoned the Aurors (kind of like police or special forces here) directly—he got into a lot of trouble with the headmaster later for that—and they took our tailed prize where he belonged.

He spilled a lot of secrets (thanks to my snake!) that he refused to repeat at the trial, but we had the Pensieve—it's like a magical video recorder. (Luckily, you-know-who is good at editing memories, or everyone would've gotten a good look at Shen! And we don't want that.) Anyway, the court was impressed and sentenced him to the dementor's kiss. Basically, the death penalty.

To sum up: the rat was the Secret Keeper, but everyone thought it was my godfather, which made sense! They were trying to throw the enemy off. It backfired! The rat betrayed them. My godfather figured it out, chased after him, probably to arrest him or something, but the rat was clever—cut off his own finger, blew something up, transformed, and escaped. Easy to hide as a rat… The street was full of bodies, no sign of the rat, just my dumbstruck godfather standing there. He didn't resist, remember? And got eleven years for nothing…»

*

«Hello, lemon eater!

What a vile thing… Good thing we remembered the rat. Do you think the Weasley kid regrets cuddling that thing all these years (heh-heh)?"

"What about your godfather? Is he even alive?»

*

«Hey, codling moth!

The Weasley kid is hysterical—he spent years sleeping in the same bed as an adult man! His brothers won't let him live it down. Though I reminded them that Percy slept with that thing too, so now they're roasting him as well.

My godfather's alive. They got him out of prison; he's in a hospital. I mean, just imagine what kind of shape he's in after all that time… They say I'll be allowed to visit him soon—of course, with you-know-who chaperoning. You coming?»

*

«Idiot lemon eater, of course I'm coming! Just let me know a day in advance so I can get permission to leave school.»