Snape's Detention Duel - Round One Subs, -- Drop Detention Duel Details Here -- Options

[McGonagall's Cat]

Consider yourselves Double Dog Dared to outdo eachother!

[McGonagall's Cat]

Clown School




Snape graded the third-years’ exams with flagitious keenness. His quill scratched out ragged comments that Harry knew would be as sharp and insulting as Snape could insinuate into the evaluation.

Flexing his fingers to chase away the writer’s cramp and rearranging himself on the chair, the younger wizard reached for the next card from the dusty box. “This’s what, the thirty-seventh since I sat down?” Harry sighed to himself. He rolled his head and stretched his shoulder muscles as inconspicuously as he could.

At first the cards had bothered him. Snape had made sure he was instantly immersed in the files from the 1970s, those of his father and his friends; ghosts of people he wished he’d known, or whom he had known and missed dearly. Each name was a bit of a clench to his stomach, but he refused to show any emotion, refused to give the Professor the satisfaction of a reaction. In spite of his best efforts, he knew that Snape was quite aware of the impact the cards were having. Occasionally the man’s eyes would dart sideways toward Harry then back to his own work, a sly curve pulling ever-so-slightly at the corner of his grimly clamped lips as he continued scratching on the various parchments of hapless students.

Most of the cards thus far had detailed mundane detentions. Fortunately, their “average-ness” helped Harry contain the initial effects of seeing his father’s and Sirius’ names written in such a contemporary manner, as though they might troop in laughing and joking from the Quidditch pitch or be sitting at breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning. The ordinary snowballs thrown or the chairs hexed out from under someone as that person began to sit down definitely aided his ability to seem unfazed, which he hoped galled Snape.

With another deep breath, Harry returned to the task at hand. Card thirty-seven felt different. It was heavier than the others while appearing quite the same. He turned it over several times, unable to detect anything explaining why it felt this way, then began to read the longest list of students given detentions he’d yet come across:


May 28, 1976

Students involved:
Sirius Black, Gryffindor – detention 5/28/76 through 6/7/76
James Potter, Gryffindor – detention 5/28/76 through 6/7/76
Remus Lupin, Gryffindor – detention 5/28/76 through 6/7/76
Peter Pettigrew, Gryffindor - detention 5/28/76 through 6/7/76
Severus Snape, Slytherin – detention 5/28/76 through 6/7/76
Evan Rosier, Slytherin - detention 5/28/76 through 6/7/76
Six more Slytherins were also listed, though with shorter detentions.


On May 28th the above listed students did willfully and with intent




But the wording didn’t continue any farther or explain the offense as the other cards had. Harry once again turned the card over. He examined its edges, the corners, even flicked his thumbnail across various portions hoping for an indication that perhaps a couple cards had been intended to be together, but had become separated over the years. Finding nothing, he stared at it. There was a small purple seal in the lower left corner with the word “aperio” embossed on it, several smudges from fingerprints, and a tiny desiccated bug permanently squashed into the surface and partially obliterating the word “May”.

“Are you meditating on that card, Potter?” a surly voice came from the desk partway across the room.

Harry jumped.

A marginally amused Snape continued, “Put those away for tonight. I’ll see you here at 6:17, sharp, next Friday.”

Harry crammed the cards he’d finished into the back of the queue in the file-box, while subtly sliding card thirty-seven into his book bag when he put his quill and ink away. He jammed the box onto the top of the shelves in the corner, and without a second glance at the teacher, raced out of the room as quickly as he thought he could get away with.




The common room was almost deserted as Harry streaked through to his dorm. He up-ended the contents of the book bag onto his bed and riffled through until he found the card. Again he turned it every way possible, tried to bend and twist it, holding it up in front of the lighted sconce on the wall. The card was proving to be infrangible.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled his wand and tapped the face saying “Alohomora”, but nothing happened. He tried, “Reveal yourself”, “open” and several similar commands to no avail. Finally he touched the point of his wand to the purple seal and read aloud, “aperio”.

The card erupted. It flipped, flopped, and unfolded until it covered half the bed and part of the floor like a large afghan someone had thrown across an elderly person’s lap. Columns of words covered its surface in various colours and assorted handwriting styles. A large translucent oval glistened near the centre. Harry quickly shoved the book bag and contents toward his pillow and spread the huge parchment out flat on his bed. Had the information been written on scrolls, it would have constituted at least seven. As he swiped a hand across to smooth out wrinkles, his little finger accidentally sank into the surface of the oval. He jerked his hand back, heart pounding, and checked it for damage. Finding none, he prodded the semi-transparent elliptical with his wand. It jumped to life. Images surfaced, swirling and dove-tailing together.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was easily recognizable, though displays of what appeared to be enlarged pictures from The Daily Prophet were posted in various places. Horrendous examples of the most recent handiwork of the Dark Lord and his followers were muted only by the lack of colour in the moving pictures. A thin intense professor Harry didn’t recognize stood near the front of the room swishing her wand, forming the words of the assignment in mid-air above the class. Sirius lounged beside James in what must have been their usual places, while Remus and Peter were busy writing at the next table to the left. It appeared that Gryffindor had this class with the Slytherins in his father’s time, too. Harry recognized the younger versions of Snape feverishly copying the suspended words while what could only be Avery maliciously toyed with a beetle on the desk in front of him.

James glanced at Sirius with a barely perceptible nod as the class rose to leave. Snape left his things at his seat, intent on discussing some point with the teacher, and began making his way toward that side of the room. Black stood, positioning himself in such a way that he partially conceal his friend, as James aimed his wand from under the table, muttering a spell that was lost in the noise of the dispersing students.

Slowly several threads began changing colour at the lower edge of Snape’s robe. By the time the sallow Slytherin reached the professor, a narrow band of pink had formed along the lower edge of his clothing. It progressed to a wider yellow band directly above the first as he spoke with the instructor, and added an inch-thick baby blue stripe before their conversation ended. The pastel colours crept higher by the moment.

Sounds and disorder of students packing up their books and leaving began to die away as the transformation was noticed. A risorial mood settled in and a few sniggers sprouted. “Going to become a clown, are yeh, Severus?” jolted Snape out of the discussion with the professor, by which time the stripes had almost reached his waist.

Fury flashed across his face, his eyes blazed. In a purely reactionary move he whipped out his wand and shouted a hex at Sirius. As the orange light arced across the space between, James deflected the spell with his still-in-hand wand. Sirius dropped behind a table tossing a Stunning Spell at Snape, but hitting the Professor instead. Several Slytherins entered the fray. Remus dodged and returned a stinging hex that hit its mark causing screams to echo from the back of the room. Flares of orange and green shot every direction, rebounding, burning holes in the walls, knocking over anything not permanently attached. A skeleton perched in the corner exploded, showering the combatants with bone confetti.

“Afraid, Black?” Snape sneered. “Hiding like a scared child?”

Sirius stood up affecting a pose, glaring back at him. “You talkin’ ta me?” Then quickly shouted, “Expelliarmus!”

Snape deftly blocked the jet of red as smoke began to cloud the ceiling and impede visibility.

“Leave it to Blood Traitor trash to quote Muggle cinema!” Avery screeched, blasting apart the chair James had just vacated.

Peter shot “Petrificus Totalus” that direction and the ensuing crash earned him a ‘thumbs up’ from his darker-haired friends.


Then suddenly a commanding voice bellowed, “Silence!” from the classroom doorway and the boys froze.