Work Text:
“Mis-ter Aladdin,” Professor Snape hissed, with a distaste usually reserved for those named Potter. “Do you take me for a fool?”
“Sir?” Aladdin tried to concentrate on maintaining an innocent expression, and not the Gryffindor tie cutting into his neck. Oh, for the climate of Agrabah and its accordingly sensible fashions.
Snape’s sneer intensified. “I have overlooked the unprecedented nature of your seventh-year transfer to Hogwarts. I have overlooked the monkey and the parrot familiars, as well as your possession of an illegal magic carpet. I have overlooked, albeit barely, your complete ignorance of the most fundamental principles of magic. But I cannot, and will not overlook that despite having made a hash of your caterpillars, using three times the recommended amount of valerian, and nearly boiling your cauldron dry instead of gently simmering, you have somehow turned in a flawless Swelling Solution. Flawless, that is, except in one particular. It is blue.”
Despite his best efforts, Aladdin gulped.
“I am not a fool, Mister Aladdin,” Snape repeated. “Nor am I unfamiliar with certain particulars of Arabian magic, or beings native to that area.” His voice grew lower and more dangerous. “Hand over the lamp.”
Abu chose that moment to scamper out from his hiding place in Snape’s cupboard and whisper something in Aladdin’s ear. After a moment, Aladdin nodded.
“I guess there’s no point in pretending,” he said, slowly at first, then with mounting eagerness. “The truth is, Professor, we don’t want to be here any more than you want us. But Genie can’t figure out how to get us back. There’s something about the magic in this place that interferes with his. So…maybe we can help each other?”
Snape looked from one set of wide, hopeful eyes to the other and back in silence.
“Agreed,” he said at last, without any change in expression. “But first, instruct your companion to return my jar of Billywig stingers.”