Vice versa (Harry Potter)

«Hi, Apple Codling Moth!

We nailed it with the books, didn't we? You-know-who snatched the catalog from me and is now agonizing over the choices. Don't worry about the money; he'll send it, and I'll forward it to you. You get it, though—it's you ordering again, ha-ha! (He could probably manage it himself, but I guess he doesn't want to expose himself. And I'm not giving up the store info either—I cut out the name and address. That's my leverage now.)

By the way, send me some extra-hideous glitter and a bunch of random stickers. Valentine's Day is coming soon!»

«Hi, Lemon Eater!

You bookworms are driving me nuts! You've no idea how my parents look at me when those packages arrive. I try not to open them in front of them; those titles alone could give them a heart attack.

Here, take your glitter. I couldn't find anything more repulsive. Oh, and here's some pink cardboard and heart-shaped stickers—I'm sure you'll make good use of them! Let me know how it all turns out.»

The Hufflepuffs, still recovering from Christmas, were horrified to see Potter cutting out hearts from a nauseating shade of pink cardboard, his tongue sticking out in concentration, and covering them with something shiny. The girls felt Valentine's Day might be their doom: the stack of cards kept growing, and it was clear Harry intended to give one to everyone—including the staff. Which is exactly what happened...

"Harry, do you have a girlfriend?" Hannah asked at the festive lunch, having forgotten her earlier unpleasant experiences.

"Do you want to be one?" he asked with genuine delight, reaching out to hug her.

"No!" she shrank back, nearly toppling off the bench. "I was just asking!"

"There's no such thing as just asking," Harry said matter-of-factly. "People never ask anything for no reason; they always have something in mind!"

"Point taken," someone older snorted.

"Glad to be of service," Harry said modestly. "I'm working on myself. Growing, improving…"

"Potter, shut up," the prefect groaned. "Don't ruin people's appetites. And by the way, those extra detentions with Snape are doing you no good."

"What do you mean? I got an 'Outstanding' on my Potions essay yesterday, thank you very much!"

"Yes! And right after that, we lost ten house points!"

"It's not my fault Weasley bumped into me in the corridor," Harry said nonchalantly. "If his coordination is terrible, what does that have to do with me?"

"And who tripped him?"

"No idea," Harry replied with utmost sincerity and returned to his food. "I think he just stepped on his own shoelace."

"What's with this habit of solving everything with fists?" the prefect continued, exasperated.

"With what, the Killing Curse?" Harry asked flatly. "Fine, fine… You know, I grew up with Muggles, got bullied in school for wearing glasses, had to learn to fight…"

He left out the part where his street and school upbringing taught him to hit first and ask questions later, as well as how much he missed Terry, always ready to watch his back and help fend off even a larger group of opponents.

"Sometimes I feel like you should have been in Gryffindor with that attitude," the prefect muttered, wincing at her card.

"The Hat offered," Harry admitted. "But I refused."

"Great Merlin, why?!"

"They're too noisy," he nodded toward the Gryffindor table. "Look at the chaos! Over here, it's nice and quiet…"

"Fair point…" she reluctantly agreed. "But, Harry…"

"Yes?"

"Please, no more cards!"

"What?!" he exclaimed in dismay. "Easter's coming! I've already got stickers with eggs and rabbits!"

His housemates groaned softly.

"Let's make a deal," the prefect suggested with sudden inspiration. "You make cards for everyone except us! We'll even help you…"

"How dare you!" Harry said, feigning offense. "Everyone gets cards, and you don't? I won't let you feel left out!"

"Oh, please…"

"What's in it for me?" he asked promptly, remembering Terry's lessons. Terry had been a master negotiator, after all.

The older students exchanged glances.

"We won't bother you about Weasley. Go ahead and make mincemeat of him, just do it quietly," one of them finally offered.

"Not enough," Harry said, thoroughly enjoying himself. "By the way, I was thinking of making a colorful poster for our common room for Easter. I've got markers, tons of stickers, and plenty of glitter left…"

"We'll leave you completely alone!" the prefect said quickly. "Just, please, Harry, don't make anything for us. Do whatever you want for everyone else; we'll manage without, okay?"

"Deal," Harry grinned.

"Potter, if this is a rabbit, then I'm a ballerina," Snape said, examining the Easter card. Harry, true to himself, had generously shared the fruits of his creativity with everyone who failed to dodge.

"I prefer avant-garde, sir," he replied proudly.

"That's obvious… What brings you here today? It's a holiday after all… of sorts."

"Ah," Harry waved his hand dismissively. "They're celebrating over there. Boring. And I've got a question…"

"Potter, has it ever occurred to you that I might also be… hmm… celebrating?"

"No," Harry answered honestly. "You don't seem like the type to celebrate Easter. But the question is important, I swear, sir!"

"All right, let's hear it then… don't drag it out," Snape sighed, well aware that getting rid of Potter was nearly impossible. The worst part was, he didn't really want to anymore. At least while the boy was in his office, nothing could threaten him—Potter, that is, though the same couldn't be said for the office.

"I was walking down the corridor," Harry began, "and I ran into Weasley with his gang…"

"You run into them regularly, and somehow, Weasley often ends up in the Hospital Wing afterward."

"He brings it on himself," Harry snorted. "And his brothers egg him on. They've got a betting pool! Um… but that's beside the point. This time I really did bump into them by accident—they were whispering under the stairs."

"And what brought you under the stairs?" the professor inquired.

"I was walking down them," Harry replied with dignity. "I heard whispering, so I looked. These three—Weasley, Granger, and Longbottom—were plotting something, but I'll get to that. Naturally, as soon as the redhead saw me, he went for a fight, claiming I was spying on them! As if. Well, then the usual—except Granger and Longbottom tried to pull us apart but failed." He sighed. "If it matters, sir, I didn't break Granger's nose—that was Weasley accidentally hitting her with his elbow. And Longbottom…" Harry just waved his hand.

"So, I've heard the tale of your epic battle. What's next?" Snape asked.

"Here's the interesting part, sir," Harry said, sniffling—a sign that his own nose hadn't come out unscathed. "Those two dragged Weasley off, and I noticed something on the floor. A piece of cloth. Someone must have dropped it. I picked it up, thinking I should return it… but when I looked at it, I was stunned! I decided to ask you what it is and what to do with it before returning it. Take a look, sir!"

The professor glanced at the cloth and barely restrained a curse. By now, Harry's antics seldom surprised him, but this was something else entirely. Snape's extensive vocabulary came in handy.

"Well, Potter," he said dryly. "Now tell me, what exactly did you overhear? What were those three plotting?"

"Ah! From what I gathered, they were planning to sneak into the forbidden corridor on the third floor—you know, the one the headmaster has been droning on about—and find something there."

"And you're not tempted to go there yourself?" Snape tested the waters.

"Do I look like someone with a death wish, sir?" Harry snorted. "They also mentioned something being hidden there, but I didn't catch what. Do you happen to know what it is?"

"I do, as a matter of fact," the professor said tersely.

"Figured as much," Harry said with satisfaction. "So, what is this thing they dropped?"

"Take three guesses, Potter," Snape said grimly, trying to deduce what the headmaster was up to this time. "Don't you see? It's an invisibility cloak! A rare, valuable item… and I'm very curious how it ended up in their hands!"

"Stolen, maybe?" Harry suggested.

"Unlikely," Snape smirked wryly. "I have a good idea who it belonged to, and that person is very difficult to steal from, as you so eloquently put it."

His gaze shifted to Harry, who was innocently fiddling with a silver teaspoon adorned with a phoenix motif.

"Potter, you have some questionable tendencies," Snape frowned. "Not only do you fight, shirk your studies, and curse, but now you're a thief as well?"

"I pocketed it absentmindedly, sir! I'll return it as soon as I can!" Harry assured him.

"I'd sooner believe you're collecting a full set as a gift for your aunt," Snape muttered.

"Great idea, sir," Harry said approvingly. "So, what's the deal with this cloak?"

"Nothing's wrong with it, Potter, except that I thought it was lost."

"So, you recognize it, then, sir?"

"More than recognize it," Snape said grimly. "It belonged to your father. He… used it quite often."

"No way!" Harry exclaimed. "Then how did it end up with those…?"

"Potter, stop swearing in my office!"

"Sorry, sir, it slipped out," Harry said contritely, inspecting the cloak. "Still, this is odd… So, it's mine now?" He waited for Snape's nod and then exclaimed, "That's amazing! Only…"

"Only what?"

"I think I'll hide it away," Harry said seriously. "This doesn't sit right with me. First, my father's possession somehow ends up… well, you know where. Then it's not with its rightful heir—me—but with some random people. And those random people are trying to sneak into the forbidden corridor using it."

"And your conclusion, Potter?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

"It's very possible someone gave it to them on purpose. To get them to go there at night, obviously, and avoid being caught by Filch," Harry said. "Now that I think about it: the headmaster kept pestering me about that corridor… If I wanted to go there, he probably would've given me the cloak. But since I didn't… Well, I'm not giving it back now! Let them think they lost it, clumsy fools! Except…" He paused again. "They might search for it…"

Watching Harry's thought process was oddly entertaining. Snape suspected the boy might ask him to hide the cloak, but Harry clearly had a better idea—his face lit up with a mischievous grin.

"I hope you're not planning to go into that corridor yourself?" the professor asked, rubbing his leg reflexively.

"No, no, no," Harry shook his head. "I don't know what's hidden there, and I don't care! If it's forbidden, it's forbidden, and it's none of my business."

"When did you become so obedient, Potter?" Snape squinted.

"I'm not obedient, sir," Harry said with dignity. "I'm rational. And if Gryffindors are eager to dive headfirst into danger, then I definitely have no business there!"