FIC: They Don’t Make Marauders Like They Used To, gen, G
Title: They Don’t Make Marauders Like They Used To
Author: flaminia_x
Prompt Number: 97
Rating: G
Pairing/characters: Teddy, Albus Potter, James Potter II, portrait!Severus Snape
Warnings/content: Highlight to read *None*
Medium or word count: ~2100
Summary: Teddy doesn’t like the portrait of Severus Snape one bit, because it
always says nasty things about his parents. So he sets out to prank the portrait with the
help of Albus Potter, who has always hated his middle name.
Notes: Hope this is something like what you wanted, nevrafire! I love portrait!
fic, so I couldn’t resist this prompt!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. All works posted at
this community were created entirely for fun without making any profit. No copyright
infringement is intended.
They Don’t Make Marauders Like They Used To on DW
“Gah!” Teddy shouted, ducking his head in embarrassment as he read the note in front of
him.
James and Albus snickered between mouthfuls of mashed potato.
“Got another one, eh, Ted?” James asked.
Teddy nodded, shoving the note down into his rucksack. “Yeah. She wants me in her
offices at 8 tonight.”
“Bloody hell, Teddy, that’s the third time this month,” Albus exclaimed around a
cheekful of roast. “You’d better watch it, unless you want old McGonagall to call Mum
and Dad in again.”
James shuddered. “You know how they were last time, Ted. Watched over all three of us
like a hawk til hols. Couldn’t rightly have a bit of fun!”
“Don’t muck it up again, please,” Albus begged. “We’ve got Quidditch coming up, we
can’t lose you again if we’re going to get the Cup this year!”
Teddy sighed, thumping his forehead against the table. Why did that manky old
git - dead! git - have to ruin everything?
*****
At 7:59, Teddy skidded to a halt in front of the great stone gargoyle guarding the
Headmistress’s office.
“Drambuie,” he whispered breathlessly, running a hand through his messy hair.
The gargoyle moved, and he ascended the staircase.
“Good evening, Mr. Lupin.” Minerva McGonagall greeted him sitting at her desk, fingers
steepled in front of her. “I trust you know why I have called you here this evening?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Speak up, Mr. Lupin, don’t mumble,” she said archly. “It’s impolite.”
“Yes, marm,” he said louder, glaring upward at the Root of All Evil.
“I shan’t keep you long,” she said. “Mr. Lupin, your constant outbursts in the Hero’s
Hallway are intolerable. For the last time, however much you do not care for it, the
truth of the matter remains that Severus Snape fought on our side. His portrait
belongs in that walkway, alongside those of your parents and godfather, mind you. I’ll
have no more of your shenanigans, or I’ll be forced to call your grandmother. Do you
understand?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Teddy saw the portrait smirk. In a flash, he had his wand
pointed directly at the terrifically long nose of one very dead Severus Snape.
“Mr. Lupin!” Professor McGonagall snapped. “What is the meaning of this? Put down
your wand this instant, unless you think a dead man can emerge from a portrait and do
you bodily harm!”
“But - he laughed at me,” Teddy protested, wand wavering only slightly.
“I heard nothing of the sort,” McGonagall said acerbically. “Now, if you don’t mind
lowering your wand, before I raise mine?”
Teddy dropped his hand to his side, arms quivering in … rage. Yes, self-righteous rage.
Most certainly not fear.
“That will be the last such demonstration in my office, Mr. Lupin,” she said calmly. “The
last. Are we clear?”
“Yes, marm,” he replied, glowering surreptitiously up at his self-appointed Nemesis.
“Then you may return to your dormitory,” she said. “Quietly, this time?”
Teddy nodded and turned to leave. As he reached the door, he glanced up one last time.
The portrait sneered.
GAH!
*****
Teddy went to bed that night without speaking to anyone, stomping through the Common
Room in a furor that left James and Albus insanely curious.
They cornered him the next morning at breakfast. James spoke first. “Well? Out with it,
man. How bad was it?”
“Yeah - she’s not calling Dad and Mum back, is she?” Albus asked, a frown creasing his
brow.
“No,” Teddy said tersely, reaching for the jam. “I’m just to mind my manners and let that
snarky old face say whatever it wants about Dad. You know, no big deal.”
“That’s rubbish,” Albus said sympathetically, spreading a second helping of beans across
his toast.
“Yeah, mate,” James agreed. “’S stupid. But look, you’re a fifth-year, almost done,
really.”
“I don’t want to have to stare at that man every bloody day for the next two
years!” Teddy spat, slamming his fork down loudly.
“Well, short of stealing his portrait,” Albus mused, “I don’t see what -”
“Steal his portrait,” Teddy interrupted. “Steal. His. Portrait.” A huge smile spread across
his face and he jumped up, right there in the hall, and did a little jig. “Haha, Al!” he
crowed. “You, my unfortunately named friend, are a right brilliant little genius!”
“Teddy,” James said warningly. “Come on, mate, think of Mum and Dad. Think of your
Gran. Think of your own backside! And if that doesn’t work, think of Quidditch!!”
“James,” Teddy said solemnly, eyes twinkling, “some things are just more important than
Quidditch. Now - who’s with me?”
“Not me, mate,” James said. “Besides, you guys are missing a rather obvious -”
“You tosser,” Teddy interrupted. “Al?”
Albus looked back and forth between the two and sighed. “I never did like my middle
name,” he said, smiling deviously over at Teddy.
James just sighed and shook his head.
*****
Two weeks went by. Two weeks with nary so much as a cocked eyebrow from Professor
McGonagall, which made Teddy very happy and which made Professor McGonagall
very, very nervous.
While Teddy was acting an angel in class, he and Albus schemed late at night, tucked
next to the fire in the Common Room. Between them, it was decided. The night before
the Christmas Feast was the perfect night for their devilish plan. After all, reasoned
Albus, old McGonagall would be so busy making sure Professor Flitwick stayed out of
the Firewhisky and that Hagrid didn’t set his beard on fire again that she’d have barely
any time to notice Teddy wasn’t at dinner.
The Long-Awaited Day arrived.
“If anyone asks,” Albus repeated, “I’ll say you weren’t feeling well and wanted a lie-
down before packing for the hols.”
“Right,” Teddy agreed. “Meanwhile, I’ll be down in the Hero’s Hallway, prying that
bloody frame off the bloody wall!”
“I’ll set out the Dungbombs by the Ravenclaw dormitory entrance on the way down to
dinner, so Filch won’t be anywhere near where you’ll be,” Albus reiterated.
“Good thing that ruddy cat isn’t around anymore,” Teddy muttered gleefully. “Right. So
Filch will be downstairs, McGonagall will be with you all in the Great Hall supervising
everything, and I - I will be ridding the world of one useless portrait!”
“Tell him his namesake said hello,” Albus smirked as he left for dinner.
Teddy waited the requisite twenty minutes to make sure the hallways were clear and
that Albus had had time to set out the distractions. It was the longest twenty minutes of
his life, and not for the first time he wished with all his heart that Harry had let him - or
James, or Albus - have the Marauder’s Map.
Slipping out of the Fat Lady’s portrait, Teddy hastened quickly toward the Hero’s
Hallway, wand at the ready. “Alright,” he whispered to himself. “Grab the frame, shrink
it, hide it under your cloak, and race for the Room of Requirement. No one will ever find
it in there!”
He turned into the Hallway. Creeping along the wall, he tried to keep to the shadows so
as not to be noticed. Counting carefully, he arrived at the portrait of his Nemesis, who
was apparently fast asleep.
“Wotcher, Snapey,” Teddy whispered gleefully. Taking out his wand, he was about to
whisper an Unsticking charm when he saw black eyes glittering at him from beneath
lowered eyelids.
“Well, well,” Snape drawled. “If it isn’t the little wolf. And what, pray, are you doing
here, instead of in the Great Hall? Surely the house elves’ cooking hasn’t worsened since
I last tasted it?”
“I’m sick and tired of you taunting me,” Teddy hissed. “D’you hear me? I won’t put up
with it any more!”
“Taunting.” Snape rolled the word around in his mouth like a sweet. “Is that what you
call our … conversations?”
“We don’t have conversations, Snape,” Teddy spat. “You make fun of my father,
and of me, and it’s not fair!”
“I see,” Snape replied. “A dead man - in a painting, mind you - uses his words, and
you in return threaten me with physical harm. I can spend the entirety of my adult life in
imminent danger, in constant physical pain, all to benefit people I quite frankly loathed,
and you are righteously indignant because an image on a wall Hurt. Your. Feelings. That,
to you, is fairness. Tsk, tsk, Mr. Lupin, I would have thought from your esteemed
parentage that you would have been smarter.”
Teddy stood quivering in the hallway, wand shaking in his hand. “See?! You did it again!
What did I ever do to you, eh, Snape?”
“Well, for starters,” Snape replied off-handedly, “you’ve never once called me anything
other than Snape. Not Professor, not Headmaster, not even so much as a Mister. You’ve
sailed through Hogwarts on charm and innate talent, never putting any of your father’s
brains or your mother’s skill to work. You take for granted everything I fought for -
everything they fought for. You perpetuate my reputation as a baddie, all the
while disregarding your own godfather’s thoughts on the matter - and I should know,
for he and I have come to … talk, from time to time. Though, of course, had my ego
depended on the adoration of witless juveniles, I might not have survived my own
childhood.”
“But you and my father - they hated each other!” Teddy shouted hotly.
“Correction, Mr. Lupin,” Snape snapped. “We did not get along. Of course, some of that
had to do with the fact that he almost ate me once, but even then I knew it was
less his fault than the faults of … others. During the war, he proved himself both useful
and reliable. We trusted each other. Mostly.”
“I - uh - oh,” Teddy said shamefacedly.
“Eloquent as always, Mr. Lupin,” Snape responded, no emotion in his voice.
“But - why didn’t you just say something?” Teddy asked helplessly.
“Feel the fool, do you, Lupin?” Snape asked. “Let me ask you this. When have I not said something?”
“What?” Teddy asked curiously.
“Everything I have said to you, every interaction we have had since you set foot in this
miserable place,” Snape retorted, “has been designed to make you think. Think, Lupin,
not just coast by on good looks and what useless skills you inherited from your mother.”
“They’re not useless!” Teddy snapped.
“Then tell me of what use they are!” Snape snapped back.
Teddy took a step closer to the portrait. “I can change shape as well as face. I can make
myself look like other people in order to gain access to places. I can disguise myself if
someone is after me. I can -”
“You see?” Snape interrupted. “Now, you are thinking.” Under his breath, but
loud enough for Teddy to hear, he muttered, “Perhaps for the first time in your life.”
Teddy stood stock still in the hallway. He had never really thought about how he could
actually use his Metamorphmagus skills beyond pranks before.
“Perhaps, from now on, you might consider actually listening before running off at the
mouth,” Snape suggested acerbically.
Teddy looked up daringly. “Perhaps you might consider watching your tongue about my
father and me,” he said.
Snape inhaled deeply through his nose and looked down at Teddy, crossing his arms. “I
might, if you could tell me what good it would do to steal a portrait frame when you, in
your fifth year, might have noticed that portraits can change frames at will.”
Teddy gaped. The thought had never occurred to him or to Albus, but - wait, wasn’t there
something James had been trying to tell them at dinner?
“James Sirius Potter, I’ll kill you,” Teddy muttered under his breath, balling up his fists.
“Now there’s a young man who has taken on some of the characteristics of his father,”
Snape said sardonically, “for better or for worse.”
Teddy blushed. “Fine, fine,” he said. “I’ll be nicer if you will.”
“If there is one thing I have never promised in my lifetime or beyond,” Snape
responded, “it is that I would be … nice.”
Against his will, Teddy chuckled. Snape the comedian, he thought to
himself. “Well, what now, then?” he asked out loud.
“It is simple, Lupin,” Snape said. “Live up to your legacy. All of it.”
“I’ll try,” Teddy said. “Sir,” he hastily added.
Snape snorted, looking at the boy askance out of the corner of his eye. “Better late than
never,” he said. “Is there not a Yule Feast you should be at? If you hurry, you might catch
pudding.”
Teddy gasped and took off running toward the Great Hall.
In his portrait, Snape laughed, low and quiet in the back of his throat. Steal a portrait?
Merlin, they don’t make Marauders - or Slytherins - like they used to.
FIN
Author: flaminia_x
Prompt Number: 97
Rating: G
Pairing/characters: Teddy, Albus Potter, James Potter II, portrait!Severus Snape
Warnings/content: Highlight to read *None*
Medium or word count: ~2100
Summary: Teddy doesn’t like the portrait of Severus Snape one bit, because it
always says nasty things about his parents. So he sets out to prank the portrait with the
help of Albus Potter, who has always hated his middle name.
Notes: Hope this is something like what you wanted, nevrafire! I love portrait!
fic, so I couldn’t resist this prompt!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. All works posted at
this community were created entirely for fun without making any profit. No copyright
infringement is intended.
They Don’t Make Marauders Like They Used To on DW
“Gah!” Teddy shouted, ducking his head in embarrassment as he read the note in front of
him.
James and Albus snickered between mouthfuls of mashed potato.
“Got another one, eh, Ted?” James asked.
Teddy nodded, shoving the note down into his rucksack. “Yeah. She wants me in her
offices at 8 tonight.”
“Bloody hell, Teddy, that’s the third time this month,” Albus exclaimed around a
cheekful of roast. “You’d better watch it, unless you want old McGonagall to call Mum
and Dad in again.”
James shuddered. “You know how they were last time, Ted. Watched over all three of us
like a hawk til hols. Couldn’t rightly have a bit of fun!”
“Don’t muck it up again, please,” Albus begged. “We’ve got Quidditch coming up, we
can’t lose you again if we’re going to get the Cup this year!”
Teddy sighed, thumping his forehead against the table. Why did that manky old
git - dead! git - have to ruin everything?
*****
At 7:59, Teddy skidded to a halt in front of the great stone gargoyle guarding the
Headmistress’s office.
“Drambuie,” he whispered breathlessly, running a hand through his messy hair.
The gargoyle moved, and he ascended the staircase.
“Good evening, Mr. Lupin.” Minerva McGonagall greeted him sitting at her desk, fingers
steepled in front of her. “I trust you know why I have called you here this evening?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Speak up, Mr. Lupin, don’t mumble,” she said archly. “It’s impolite.”
“Yes, marm,” he said louder, glaring upward at the Root of All Evil.
“I shan’t keep you long,” she said. “Mr. Lupin, your constant outbursts in the Hero’s
Hallway are intolerable. For the last time, however much you do not care for it, the
truth of the matter remains that Severus Snape fought on our side. His portrait
belongs in that walkway, alongside those of your parents and godfather, mind you. I’ll
have no more of your shenanigans, or I’ll be forced to call your grandmother. Do you
understand?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Teddy saw the portrait smirk. In a flash, he had his wand
pointed directly at the terrifically long nose of one very dead Severus Snape.
“Mr. Lupin!” Professor McGonagall snapped. “What is the meaning of this? Put down
your wand this instant, unless you think a dead man can emerge from a portrait and do
you bodily harm!”
“But - he laughed at me,” Teddy protested, wand wavering only slightly.
“I heard nothing of the sort,” McGonagall said acerbically. “Now, if you don’t mind
lowering your wand, before I raise mine?”
Teddy dropped his hand to his side, arms quivering in … rage. Yes, self-righteous rage.
Most certainly not fear.
“That will be the last such demonstration in my office, Mr. Lupin,” she said calmly. “The
last. Are we clear?”
“Yes, marm,” he replied, glowering surreptitiously up at his self-appointed Nemesis.
“Then you may return to your dormitory,” she said. “Quietly, this time?”
Teddy nodded and turned to leave. As he reached the door, he glanced up one last time.
The portrait sneered.
GAH!
*****
Teddy went to bed that night without speaking to anyone, stomping through the Common
Room in a furor that left James and Albus insanely curious.
They cornered him the next morning at breakfast. James spoke first. “Well? Out with it,
man. How bad was it?”
“Yeah - she’s not calling Dad and Mum back, is she?” Albus asked, a frown creasing his
brow.
“No,” Teddy said tersely, reaching for the jam. “I’m just to mind my manners and let that
snarky old face say whatever it wants about Dad. You know, no big deal.”
“That’s rubbish,” Albus said sympathetically, spreading a second helping of beans across
his toast.
“Yeah, mate,” James agreed. “’S stupid. But look, you’re a fifth-year, almost done,
really.”
“I don’t want to have to stare at that man every bloody day for the next two
years!” Teddy spat, slamming his fork down loudly.
“Well, short of stealing his portrait,” Albus mused, “I don’t see what -”
“Steal his portrait,” Teddy interrupted. “Steal. His. Portrait.” A huge smile spread across
his face and he jumped up, right there in the hall, and did a little jig. “Haha, Al!” he
crowed. “You, my unfortunately named friend, are a right brilliant little genius!”
“Teddy,” James said warningly. “Come on, mate, think of Mum and Dad. Think of your
Gran. Think of your own backside! And if that doesn’t work, think of Quidditch!!”
“James,” Teddy said solemnly, eyes twinkling, “some things are just more important than
Quidditch. Now - who’s with me?”
“Not me, mate,” James said. “Besides, you guys are missing a rather obvious -”
“You tosser,” Teddy interrupted. “Al?”
Albus looked back and forth between the two and sighed. “I never did like my middle
name,” he said, smiling deviously over at Teddy.
James just sighed and shook his head.
*****
Two weeks went by. Two weeks with nary so much as a cocked eyebrow from Professor
McGonagall, which made Teddy very happy and which made Professor McGonagall
very, very nervous.
While Teddy was acting an angel in class, he and Albus schemed late at night, tucked
next to the fire in the Common Room. Between them, it was decided. The night before
the Christmas Feast was the perfect night for their devilish plan. After all, reasoned
Albus, old McGonagall would be so busy making sure Professor Flitwick stayed out of
the Firewhisky and that Hagrid didn’t set his beard on fire again that she’d have barely
any time to notice Teddy wasn’t at dinner.
The Long-Awaited Day arrived.
“If anyone asks,” Albus repeated, “I’ll say you weren’t feeling well and wanted a lie-
down before packing for the hols.”
“Right,” Teddy agreed. “Meanwhile, I’ll be down in the Hero’s Hallway, prying that
bloody frame off the bloody wall!”
“I’ll set out the Dungbombs by the Ravenclaw dormitory entrance on the way down to
dinner, so Filch won’t be anywhere near where you’ll be,” Albus reiterated.
“Good thing that ruddy cat isn’t around anymore,” Teddy muttered gleefully. “Right. So
Filch will be downstairs, McGonagall will be with you all in the Great Hall supervising
everything, and I - I will be ridding the world of one useless portrait!”
“Tell him his namesake said hello,” Albus smirked as he left for dinner.
Teddy waited the requisite twenty minutes to make sure the hallways were clear and
that Albus had had time to set out the distractions. It was the longest twenty minutes of
his life, and not for the first time he wished with all his heart that Harry had let him - or
James, or Albus - have the Marauder’s Map.
Slipping out of the Fat Lady’s portrait, Teddy hastened quickly toward the Hero’s
Hallway, wand at the ready. “Alright,” he whispered to himself. “Grab the frame, shrink
it, hide it under your cloak, and race for the Room of Requirement. No one will ever find
it in there!”
He turned into the Hallway. Creeping along the wall, he tried to keep to the shadows so
as not to be noticed. Counting carefully, he arrived at the portrait of his Nemesis, who
was apparently fast asleep.
“Wotcher, Snapey,” Teddy whispered gleefully. Taking out his wand, he was about to
whisper an Unsticking charm when he saw black eyes glittering at him from beneath
lowered eyelids.
“Well, well,” Snape drawled. “If it isn’t the little wolf. And what, pray, are you doing
here, instead of in the Great Hall? Surely the house elves’ cooking hasn’t worsened since
I last tasted it?”
“I’m sick and tired of you taunting me,” Teddy hissed. “D’you hear me? I won’t put up
with it any more!”
“Taunting.” Snape rolled the word around in his mouth like a sweet. “Is that what you
call our … conversations?”
“We don’t have conversations, Snape,” Teddy spat. “You make fun of my father,
and of me, and it’s not fair!”
“I see,” Snape replied. “A dead man - in a painting, mind you - uses his words, and
you in return threaten me with physical harm. I can spend the entirety of my adult life in
imminent danger, in constant physical pain, all to benefit people I quite frankly loathed,
and you are righteously indignant because an image on a wall Hurt. Your. Feelings. That,
to you, is fairness. Tsk, tsk, Mr. Lupin, I would have thought from your esteemed
parentage that you would have been smarter.”
Teddy stood quivering in the hallway, wand shaking in his hand. “See?! You did it again!
What did I ever do to you, eh, Snape?”
“Well, for starters,” Snape replied off-handedly, “you’ve never once called me anything
other than Snape. Not Professor, not Headmaster, not even so much as a Mister. You’ve
sailed through Hogwarts on charm and innate talent, never putting any of your father’s
brains or your mother’s skill to work. You take for granted everything I fought for -
everything they fought for. You perpetuate my reputation as a baddie, all the
while disregarding your own godfather’s thoughts on the matter - and I should know,
for he and I have come to … talk, from time to time. Though, of course, had my ego
depended on the adoration of witless juveniles, I might not have survived my own
childhood.”
“But you and my father - they hated each other!” Teddy shouted hotly.
“Correction, Mr. Lupin,” Snape snapped. “We did not get along. Of course, some of that
had to do with the fact that he almost ate me once, but even then I knew it was
less his fault than the faults of … others. During the war, he proved himself both useful
and reliable. We trusted each other. Mostly.”
“I - uh - oh,” Teddy said shamefacedly.
“Eloquent as always, Mr. Lupin,” Snape responded, no emotion in his voice.
“But - why didn’t you just say something?” Teddy asked helplessly.
“Feel the fool, do you, Lupin?” Snape asked. “Let me ask you this. When have I not said something?”
“What?” Teddy asked curiously.
“Everything I have said to you, every interaction we have had since you set foot in this
miserable place,” Snape retorted, “has been designed to make you think. Think, Lupin,
not just coast by on good looks and what useless skills you inherited from your mother.”
“They’re not useless!” Teddy snapped.
“Then tell me of what use they are!” Snape snapped back.
Teddy took a step closer to the portrait. “I can change shape as well as face. I can make
myself look like other people in order to gain access to places. I can disguise myself if
someone is after me. I can -”
“You see?” Snape interrupted. “Now, you are thinking.” Under his breath, but
loud enough for Teddy to hear, he muttered, “Perhaps for the first time in your life.”
Teddy stood stock still in the hallway. He had never really thought about how he could
actually use his Metamorphmagus skills beyond pranks before.
“Perhaps, from now on, you might consider actually listening before running off at the
mouth,” Snape suggested acerbically.
Teddy looked up daringly. “Perhaps you might consider watching your tongue about my
father and me,” he said.
Snape inhaled deeply through his nose and looked down at Teddy, crossing his arms. “I
might, if you could tell me what good it would do to steal a portrait frame when you, in
your fifth year, might have noticed that portraits can change frames at will.”
Teddy gaped. The thought had never occurred to him or to Albus, but - wait, wasn’t there
something James had been trying to tell them at dinner?
“James Sirius Potter, I’ll kill you,” Teddy muttered under his breath, balling up his fists.
“Now there’s a young man who has taken on some of the characteristics of his father,”
Snape said sardonically, “for better or for worse.”
Teddy blushed. “Fine, fine,” he said. “I’ll be nicer if you will.”
“If there is one thing I have never promised in my lifetime or beyond,” Snape
responded, “it is that I would be … nice.”
Against his will, Teddy chuckled. Snape the comedian, he thought to
himself. “Well, what now, then?” he asked out loud.
“It is simple, Lupin,” Snape said. “Live up to your legacy. All of it.”
“I’ll try,” Teddy said. “Sir,” he hastily added.
Snape snorted, looking at the boy askance out of the corner of his eye. “Better late than
never,” he said. “Is there not a Yule Feast you should be at? If you hurry, you might catch
pudding.”
Teddy gasped and took off running toward the Great Hall.
In his portrait, Snape laughed, low and quiet in the back of his throat. Steal a portrait?
Merlin, they don’t make Marauders - or Slytherins - like they used to.
FIN