Snape stared at Flitwick in surprise. He had never before realized that the little man had been wise to James' character flaws and, he had to admit, his assessment of Harry's character was quite astute as well. Which made it all the more surprising that he was so blind to Severus' own.
To be honest, it was both annoying and gratifying тАУ annoying that he was so easily perceived by his peers as a cruel git, but gratifying that the brat hadn't managed to convince everyone in the school that he was a big softy. "I can promise you that the boy receives exactly what he deserves at my hand," he told Flitwick loftily, then spun away with a swirl of his robes.
It was good to know the boy's magic hadn't been stunted or blocked by his time with those despicable Muggles. If that had been the case, he really would have pulled out some of the Darkest spells from his Death Eater days. But if Flitwick were convinced that Harry was powerful, then he was a strong wizard indeed. Filius might be nauseatingly lenient towards the students' pranks and mischief, but he was brutally accurate when assessing magical talent. He would never overexaggerate in that regard, and that meant that Harry really was doing well and making quick progress. Severus began to mentally catalog all of the spells Harry should learn, from jelly-legs to Sectumsempra to Avada Kedavra. Oh, he wouldn't get to the lethal ones for quite a while yet, but he had no intention of sending his ward out to face Voldemort armed with nothing more than Expelliaramus.
He had been uneasy about having taught Harry that sticking hex last weekend, but to his relief, he hadn't found any of the little monster's classmates Stuck to the Quidditch goalposts, nor had the other professors complained about their possessions being mysteriously affixed to their desks, though a little voice in the back of his head kept insisting that this was just the calm before the storm. On the other hand, if he were seriously proposing to teach the child offensive spells well before his peers, then he needed some proof of the brat's self-control and judgment. If Harry couldn't be trusted with a simple Sticking hex, then how on earth was he to teach the boy the spells he needed to defend himself?
##
Harry beamed at Ron and Hermione. "You've got it! That's it!" Now all three were consistently able to produce an effective Sticking hex.
"Ron, it's really amazing how much quicker you're picking things up now that you've got a new wand," Hermione complimented him.
Ron reddened at the praise. "Everything just seems a lot easier, you know?"
"I wonder if the hex could be used to hold my hair in placeтАж" Hermione mused, pushing back her bushy hair for what felt like the thousandth time that day.
"I think it would be more fun to stick Malfoy to the third floor boys' loo!" Ron chortled.
"Oi!" Harry frowned at his friend. "Don't even think of doing that. Or of telling the twins. Pr'fessor Snape would kill us."
Ron paled and clutched his bum apprehensively. "Okay, okay. Blimey, Harry, I was just joking."
"Yeah, well, I don't want anyone to know we know this hex. Not until we've figured out the Case of the Purple Turban."
Hermione giggled. "Sorry, Harry, but that sounds like one of those telly detective mysteries."
Harry laughed, as much at Ron's expression of bewilderment as Hermione's words. "Yeah, I know, but that's how I think of it."
"Okay, well, now that we all know the spell, now what?" Ron asked.
"We need to get up to the Infirmary and get a sense of where he is."
"You mean you want to 'case the joint'?" Hermione's giggles again threatened to overwhelm her, but Ron's next words quickly banished her mirth.
"Hermione can do that. She can go up to see Madame Pomfrey and take a look around while she's there."
"Why me?" their friend demanded. "Why not Harry?"
"Quirrell always makes my scar hurt," Harry protested. "There's something weird about him, and Pr'fessor Snape already told me to stay away from him. Or else."
"You don't want to make Harry get into trouble for disobeying his dad тАУ erm, professor, do you?" Ron looked at Hermione accusingly.
She sighed and gave in. She'd heard what Snape had done to the boys over the troll escapade, and she suspected that she'd be paying for her good fortune in escaping the smacking for years to come. "Oh, all right. But what am I supposed to tell Madame Pomfrey?"
Ron turned pink. "Can't you go for тАУ y'know тАУ girl problems?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Girl problems? That's the best you can do?"
The redhead was blushing violently, but he stubbornly stuck to his idea. "You asked. C'mon тАУ it's a perfectly good idea."
"Fine," she huffed. Why on earth had she chosen two boys as her best friends?
Harry, who had avoided that exchange like the plague, smiled in relief. "Thanks, 'Mione. Besides, you know you're the only one who can get up there without makin' anyone suspicious. If Ron or me tried to get out of class by asking to go to Madame Pomfrey, they'd just assume we were trying to skive off."
"I can't imagine why they'd suspect that," she retorted sarcastically, but without any real malice. Harry's point was valid, and she knew it. "How much longer is he going to be in the hospital wing anyway?"
Harry shrugged. "I asked Pr'fessor Snape and he said he wasn't goin' to be back for a long while. An' Professor Dumbledore was talking about what we'd do in DADA class next week, so it sounded like he was plannin' to keep teaching it for at least that long."
"Okay, so I'll go and figure out where he is тАУ then what?"
"Then the next time we think he's alone up there, we all sneak up," Ron suggested.
"Yeah," Harry agreed enthusiastically. "You two can pretend to want to visit him or ask him a DADA question, and I'll sneak around and hex his turban to the wall or the bed or something."
"Harry." As much as Hermione itched to solve a puzzle тАУ any puzzle тАУ she still felt obligated to point something out to her more impulsive friends. "Don't you think Professor Snape will be cross with you when he learns what we've done to Professor Quirrell? I mean, I know he doesn't like the man, but it's still a professor that we're pranking."
Harry's jaw tightened. "It's a mystery, and we're gonna solve it, an' I bet he'll be too interested in what we find to be angry." At his friends' incredulous looks, he sighed. "Well, okay, so he'll be angry, but I think he'll also want to know what we find. An' it's not like he ever actually said not to prank Professor Quirrell, so it's not like I'm disobeying him, and even if Professor Quirrell is really mad when his turban comes off, he's not allowed to hit me тАУ an' I don't have to let him if he tries тАУ so the worst I'll get is a detention. An' you guys can just say that you didn't know what I was doing."
Ron looked doubtful. "You really imagine anyone will believe that?"
Harry looked stubborn. "It'll be my spell, so they won't be able to prove anything else. An' it's not like Pr'fessor Snape will do anything that bad to me. I mean, he'll probably just take my broom away an' maybe make me do an essay or some lines. But he hates Quirrell so much he probably won't punish me too hard. An' then when I'm on restriction with him, we'll be able to talk about whatever it was that Quirrell was hidin' and then he won't think I'm some boring little kid any longer." Harry flushed. He hadn't meant to actually say that last part, but he'd gotten a bit carried away.