Snape's Christmas Carol

Stave Three: The Second of the Three Spirits

The sound of a bell ringing once brought Snape back to consciousness. Again with the bells! This was truly getting annoying. He sat up and listened intently. The room was silent. He was about to lie back down, when he decided he'd better make sure. So he drew aside the curtains on his bed to peer carefully around the room. Uh oh. There was a bright light coming from under his sitting room door, and he knew he hadn't left any lights on in there.

Well, if this was another ghostly presence, he was just going to give it a piece of his mind! How could all this disruption of his much needed sleep be good for his well being, anyway? The last thing he needed in the middle of the night was to waltz down memory lane with Minerva McGonagall.

He got out of bed, found his slippers again, and went and opened the door to his bedchamber. His jaw dropped open in astonishment. His sitting room had been transformed.

There was greenery of all kinds draping the walls...holly, ivy, mistletoe...and there was food...mountains of it, covering every inch of the room. Had the house elves gone crazy? Could they have possibly mistaken his sitting room for a storeroom?

There were meats of all types. Roast beef, roast chicken, roast turkey, pork chops, and lamb chops, sausages, bacon, and steak. There were piles of potatoes of all sorts, vegetables in all varieties, gravy, condiments, and the puddings...trifle, treacle tarts, pies of all kinds, ice cream, éclairs, doughnuts, and fruit. The sheer excess almost made him ill to contemplate eating it all.

Sitting squarely in the middle of all this, indeed using it as a sort of throne, was a huge figure dressed in a green robe edged in white fur with a holly wreath encircling his head that was decorated with icicles. He had a jolly air about him and with a smile on his face, he gestured at Snape with his massive torch that was shaped like a horn of plenty.

"Come in, come in, and know me better man!" he intoned in a ringing voice.

Snape crossed his arms and frowned at the figure. "I thought I knew you perfectly well, Hagrid. It appears I was mistaken. Have you taken leave of your senses?"

The giant merely chuckled and shook his head. "Guess again, Snape."

Snape sighed. "Right. Not Hagrid. This nightmare just keeps getting stranger and stranger. All right, I'll bite, if you aren't Hagrid...who are you? The Ghost of Christmas Feasts?"

The figure in green laughed mirthfully. "I never knew you had a sense of humor, Snape. I am the Ghost of Christmas Present...join me and learn."

Snape picked his way through the food, narrowly avoiding plunging a foot through a slice of watermelon. "Very well. Are we off on another merry jaunt around the castle? Who shall we be spying on this time? I've never been much of a voyeur, but I'll admit that watching others while not being seen does have its appeal."

The giant chuckled warmly and held out his robe. "Touch my robe Snape, and we'll be off."

Reluctantly, Snape extended his hand and grasped a handful of green robe. Instantly, they flew upward, plunging through the ceiling. They whizzed up, and up, and up, until they came out into what Snape recognized as the Gryffindor common room.

A nervous figure paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. Snape recognized him as Neville Longbottom. Neville was practically in tears. He kept pausing and staring at the portrait hole as if he was waiting for someone who was very late.

Suddenly the portrait swung back, and a cold and shivering Harry Potter crawled through the hole into the room.

"Harry!" Neville exclaimed. "Where have you been? What took you so long? It's been hours and hours! I've been so worried. You weren't caught were you?"

Harry dragged himself over in front of the roaring fire and sat down as close to it as he could get without singeing himself. "Sorry, Neville. I tried, but yes, I was caught."

Neville gasped in horror. "Oh, my god! What did Snape do to you?"

Snape rolled his eyes. Good lord! The way these children carried on you'd think he regularly ate students for breakfast!

Harry sighed in disgust. "He made me inventory his storeroom! I have to go back and finish it tomorrow."

Neville's jaw dropped. "On Christmas!"

Harry nodded glumly. "Yeah, Christmas is just another day on the calendar to Snape, the nasty git."

Neville sank down into a chair and stared into the fire.

Harry looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry, Neville, I tried. Why is it so important that you get these potion ingredients, anyway?"

Neville sighed. "That's okay, Harry. I really appreciate you trying."

Harry sat up. "Couldn't you owl your grandmother and have her send you what you need?"

Neville shook his head. "My grandmother is in hospital. That's why I'm spending Christmas here at Hogwarts. They're not sure if she's going to live. I can't bother her with this now." He sighed heavily. "I'm doomed! Snape will flunk me for sure then I'll end up getting kicked out of here. I'm hanging on by a thread, as it is. This was my last chance to make my parents proud of me."

Harry was confused. Weren't Neville's parents in a mental hospital? As far as Harry knew they didn't even recognize Neville anymore. How could he make them proud of him when they didn't know him from Albus Dumbledore? Of course, Harry wasn't supposed to know about that, so he said, "I don't understand, Neville. What's this all about anyway?"

Neville shrank in on himself and stared at the floor. "Have you ever wondered why I live with my grandmother, Harry?" he asked in a small voice.

Harry swallowed hard and shook his head. "I guess, I always thought you were an orphan, like me."

Neville shook his head sadly. "Not exactly. My parents are still alive. They used to be Aurors. They fought against You-Know-Who. They were the best, too. Everyone liked and admired them." His face creased in a wistful smile. "They were great people, Harry. They loved me a lot, but something terrible happened to them." He looked down and took a deep breath. "Death Eaters captured them and tortured them until they lost their minds. They're in a mental hospital, Harry. I used to go with my grandmother to visit them at Christmas. Guess I won't see them this year...oh, well, it's not like they recognize me anyway."

Harry looked sadly at Neville. "I'm really sorry, Neville."

Neville shrugged and looked up. "It's okay, I've gotten used to it."

Harry frowned. "Why is it so important that you get these potion ingredients?"

Neville gave a heavy sigh. "I flunked potions last term. Professor Snape was ready to get me kicked out, but Professor Dumbledore took pity on me and made Snape give me another chance to pass the final. I have to make a perfect "Be-Of-Good-Cheer" potion over Christmas break. If I do it right I pass, and I can stay. If I don't then I flunk out of Hogwarts. If I was home I'd be able to get the ingredients I need, but when my grandmother got sick and I had to stay here that changed. Harry, I can't flunk out! I can't! My parents were such wonderful people, everyone liked them, and I'm such a failure. I need to do better. If I do well enough to graduate from Hogwarts, I want to become an Auror, too. I need to avenge my parents. I need to think...they'd be proud of me. I can't flunk out. It would be worse than dying!" He buried his face in his hands and started to sob.

Harry wasn't sure what to say. He patted Neville awkwardly on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Neville. We'll think of something. Perhaps I can nick what you need tomorrow, when I go back to finish the inventory."

Neville shook his head. "No, Harry. You've gotten into enough trouble for me. I can't let you get into any more. I'm just going to have to get used to the idea of Snape flunking me out. It'll certainly make his Christmas." The two boys sat there glumly and stared into the fire.

Snape stirred restlessly. "Enough of this, spirit. This spying on others is getting old. Can we not move on?"

The spirit gazed soberly at Snape. "What's the matter, Snape...no snappy comeback, this time? Don't like to hear unpleasant truths about yourself?"

Snape frowned. "All the idiot boy would have had to do was ask for help. It's a required assignment, after all. Once he explained his circumstances, I'd have given him what he needed. He didn't need to send Potter to steal for him."

The spirit eyed him skeptically. "Would you indeed, Snape...without extracting amusement...or causing pain...at his expense?"

Snape looked uncomfortable. "Certainly," he said hesitantly. "Can we not move on, spirit? Doesn't your time grow short? I was hearing that constantly from the last spirit."

"Very well." The giant nodded. "Take my robe again, and we'll be off Snape. With a last sober glance at the boys by the fire, Snape was whisked away down through the floor once more.

They made a dramatic entrance into the Great Hall through the enchanted ceiling. Everyone was at Christmas dinner. They arrived just in time to see the back of Severus Snape as he stalked out of the hall with his black robes billowing around him. The cheerfulness of those still at table rose a notch at his exit.

Minerva McGonagall turned to Dumbledore and exclaimed in exasperation, "Well, we can all breathe a sigh of relief now, Albus. I swear that every year Severus becomes more and more of a blight on Christmas dinner! I know you're fond of him and I've tried to be fair, but really Severus Snape is nothing but a cold, unpleasant, nasty person. Even the good cheer of Christmas can't lift his spirits. He'd be better off staying down in those dungeons he loves so much instead of lurking around casting a pall over everyone's happiness."

Snape sniffed to himself as they settled to the floor behind Dumbledore. Well, really, what's gotten Minerva into such a snit? He smiled darkly. He must've really gotten her good over something to bring on this tirade.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Now, Minerva, don't be bitter. Severus doesn't deserve our ire. I, for one, am sorry for him. I couldn't be angry with him if I tried. Who do you suppose loses out the most by his ill whims? He does, of course. He denies himself happiness and friendship. He causes more pain and sorrow to himself than we could ever inflict on him. I mean to continue to offer my hand in friendship, to continue to leave open the opportunity for fellowship and belonging. He will always be welcome here at Christmas dinner, whether he thinks so or not. Perhaps one day he'll raise his eyes out of that dungeon and realize that the rest of the world is open to him, too. He doesn't need to suffer alone in the dark forever for the mistakes of his past."

Snape swallowed with difficulty and stared soberly at Dumbledore. He felt an unexpected pang of affection for the old wizard as he stood there a silent spy at the merriment of Christmas dinner. He realized that his present position was very familiar to him. Didn't he always feel rather like he was on the outside at every occasion with his face pressed to the glass? Did it have to be thus?

Snape backed away from the figures at the table. "Enough, spirit, enough! Take me back to my bed. I've seen and heard too much tonight."

The spirit regarded him sadly. "But have you truly heard and learned, Severus? My time on this earth is indeed ended, but yours, I think, is not yet done."

Suddenly everything went black! Snape found himself in absolute unrelieved darkness, and for the first time all night he felt truly afraid. A faint light began to worm its way into his consciousness, and with it a slick gray fog. Then without warning, from out of the fog, stepped a dementor. It's presence filled him with a horrible dread.