Chapter 204: The Real and the Fake Snape
After swallowing the sweets, a warm sensation swept through their bodies, and Fred and George completed their transformations in no time. They tugged at the loose skin on their faces, pulled silly grins at each other, and then crept upwards on the sly.
"Fred, don't you feel something's off?" Reaching the right-hand corridor on the fourth floor—the out-of-bounds area Dumbledore had mentioned—George hugged the wall as he walked and murmured to Fred.
"Off?" Fred twisted about and looked around. "Nothing looks off to me; it all looks the same as usual."
"Mrs. Norris!" George yanked Fred back to the wall. "We haven't heard Mrs. Norris even once!"
"You're right!" Fred smacked his forehead, eyes going wide as realization finally dawned on him. They had been at Hogwarts for years and had never seen Filch and Mrs. Norris apart; they were practically together every second. Where there was a cat, you could find Filch; where there was Filch, you could hear a cat. That was the experience they had accumulated through years of nighttime roaming.
"So the person up ahead isn't Filch?" George scratched his cheek. They had already eaten the sweets—if not for the test, this would be far too dull.
Fred thought for a moment, his eyes suddenly lighting up, and he hurriedly said to George, "Do you think that person could be Snape?"
"Snape?" George echoed, recalling how Hermione and the others had been muttering in a corner of the common room some time ago. Dumbledore's treasure was being kept on the fourth floor of the castle, and someone at the school wanted to steal it; Snape was the primary suspect.
"If it's him..." George's eyes glittered with excitement. "This will definitely be a lot more interesting than if it were Filch!"
"And he's here to steal something."
"All we have to do is stop him, and we'll have protected the school's property—we'll be great heroes of Hogwarts!"
Fred laughed and said, "Even if the professors don't give us a Special Award for Services to the School, they should at least award us points."
"Then the House Cup is as good as ours, isn't it?"
"Fred!"
"George!"
"For the glorious future of Gryffindor, there are some things we simply must do—so let's move!"
Fred and George clasped hands tightly, gazes resolute as they looked at each other, nodding hard with expressions as if they were about to save the world. After their bold words, the two of them bent down, kept close to the wall, and moved towards the source of the sound with great care, afraid of being discovered too soon.
After they went a way farther, the corridor grew even dimmer. Even squinting, Fred could only just make out the spot a few dozen meters ahead.
"Wait..." Hiding behind a tall armored knight, George reached out to grab Fred and pointed not far away. "Look over there..."
Fred held the knight's feet with both hands, leaned his body forward, craned his neck, and squinted in the direction of George's finger. A sneaking figure was moving in the darkness. He wore long wizard's robes and was hunched over; a head of long hair was faintly visible.
Fred took a look and said with disdain, "Is that Snape? He looks exactly like a sneaking rat right now!" He seemed to have forgotten that the way they had crept along looked no different from the distant figure.
"A bit like him, but also a bit not," George said, rubbing his chin in thought and contradicting himself. The figure's build did look about the same as Snape's, but Snape usually walked with his head held high, nose in the air. He would not look this craven.
They watched the figure halt before a wooden door, fumble about for a bit, glance left and right, then slip into the room.
Fred said, "Come on, let's go see whether that fellow really is Snape, and what he's up to—is he going to steal the treasure inside?"
George nodded and followed Fred. Step by cautious step they edged forward, and only after quite some time did they reach the door. Fred gestured to George, turned sideways, and silently pressed his ear to the wood, eavesdropping on what was happening inside.
Faintly, they seemed to hear music—a harp being played. Fred frowned and traded a look with George. Puzzlement spread over both their faces; they could not make heads or tails of it. Could the fellow have sneaked into this room just to practice the harp because he was too embarrassed to do it somewhere crowded?
That thought flashed through Fred's mind, and just as he leaned in to listen more carefully—creak—the door was suddenly pulled open.
The harp music swelled at once, accompanied by rasping snores, all carried to their ears with piercing clarity. Fred and George went rigid on the spot. Like rusty mechanical parts, their heads turned forward ever so slowly, looking ahead with a whimper. They could finally see the man's face clearly.
It really was Snape—eyes, mouth, and even that greasy hair were exactly the same. But something was odd. Snape's face wore a cringing look; his body shrank inward; his arms drooped and folded over his chest. He did not give the impression of Severus Snape at all, but rather of the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who had long since vanished—Quirinus Quirrell.
And he seemed to be frightened by the twins' bizarre appearance. His mouth opened in a silent gasp and he stumbled back two steps. In his flustered footing, he nearly trod on the sleeping three-headed dog, making Fred and George's eyelids twitch. They certainly could not take on that big fellow.
Fred and George exchanged a silent glance. They said nothing, and the person who looked like Snape also kept quiet. The awkward atmosphere spread through the air, weighing on the three of them. Neither side seemed to know how to begin...
"Which House are you students in? What are your names? It's curfew now, and you're running about outside—and you've even come to the out-of-bounds area!"
"Snape" seemed to remember his identity as a professor. He drew himself up, puffed out his chest, and tried to put on a show of force, barking sharply: "I will absolutely report this to Dumbledore. You will be severely punished for it. I am docking your House twenty points!"
This definitely isn't Snape—otherwise he'd recognize us, and that punishment is far too light, only a measly twenty points! So Fred and George thought in unison.
If Snape were really this nice, the only possibility is that we're dreaming. But if the man before us isn't Snape, then who is he? Why is he pretending to be Snape? And how did he manage it?
Doubts crowded Fred and George's minds. They wanted to probe further, but then a ferocious look flashed across "Snape's" face.
"Not good!" Alarms blared in Fred's head. Without any discussion, he and George turned on their heels and bolted in perfect unspoken accord.
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