Snape's Christmas Carol

Stave Four: The Last of the Spirits

Without the fog the dementor would have blended perfectly into the darkness so totally did it resemble its surroundings. It glided up to him and stood silently and motionlessly, waiting for his reaction.

Snape took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Without a sound they stared at each other for long moments. Finally Snape broke the silence. "Are you yet another spirit? The Baron did say there would be three."

The dementor inclined its head once. "Okay, not the chatty type. Well, there does seem to be a pattern to this insanity. Are you the Ghost of Christmases to come?" inquired Snape cautiously.

The dementor nodded once again.

Oh joy, thought Snape, a preview of coming attractions, as if living one miserable day at a time isn't bad enough. Well, standing here in the darkness isn't getting us anywhere. He plastered his most intimidating glare onto his face. "Well, spirit, isn't your time limited as well? Should we not be off? The sooner we get started, the sooner I can get back to my much needed rest."

The dementor just stared at him, then slowly it held out its arm. The idea of touching it made Snape's flesh crawl, but he supposed he'd faced worse. So he hesitantly reached out a hand and touched the inky black robe.

Suddenly he found himself in the small front parlor of a tidy cottage. He stood in total confusion for a moment, not recognizing his surroundings. Then he heard voices coming from an adjoining room. Snape moved over to the doorway and peered into a tiny Spartan kitchen. Two men sat around a small table with glasses of liquor in their hands. Snape frowned. Them he recognized all too well.

Sirius Black raised his glass high with a big smile on his face. "Let's toast to this happy day, Remus! Man, I don't think I could ever get better news...other than complete exoneration, of course. He's dead! He's dead! He's finally dead!"

Remus Lupin smiled a tired smile. "If you say so, Sirius. The world will certainly be a happier place without him in it."

Black grinned and downed his drink in one shot. "You said it. It rather reminds me of a Muggle song..."Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead!" Except in this case, of course, it's a wizard." He laughed a bit drunkenly.

Lupin downed his own drink and smiled again. "What should we do to celebrate?"

Black laughed loudly. "Personally I intend to dance on his grave!"

They both chortled drunkenly.

Snape stepped back and frowned at the spirit. "Has Voldemort finally been defeated? Is that what they're celebrating, spirit? That would certainly be worth celebrating. I wouldn't mind dancing on his grave, myself."

The spirit merely stared at Snape enigmatically and extended its arm. With a frown, and a last glance at the happy drunks in the kitchen, Snape touched the robe, and the scene changed again.

Now they were floating over the halls of Hogwarts, which were crowded with students. Everyone was laughing and talking. Snape heard many voices exclaiming that someone was dead. Everyone seemed quite happy about it as if a holiday had been proclaimed.

Snape and the spirit dropped down through the castle into the entrance hall, where they spotted Filch and Professor Sprout having a conversation.

"How did it happen, Filch?"

Filch shrugged. "Madam Pomfrey says he just dropped dead. A heart attack probably."

Professor Sprout snorted. "Not likely. Everyone knows he didn't have a heart. Perhaps it finally dawned on him that no one wanted him around anymore, and for once in his miserable life, he decided to do the right thing."

Filch shook his head somberly. "Not everyone will be happy he's gone, you know."

Professor Sprout sighed. "I know. The Headmaster must be quite upset. He's so soft hearted, but he'll get over it. You mark my words, before long it'll be like he was never here at all, and Hogwarts will be a much happier place!"

Snape's face blanched, and his expression got very grim. "They're not talking about Voldemort, are they spirit?" The spirit slowly shook its head.

Snape sighed. "Do I really need to see any more of this? I do believe I get the point."

But the spirit extended its arm once more, and reluctantly Snape touched it.

Suddenly Snape found himself standing in his own bedroom. Madame Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall stood by quietly staring at a stiff unmoving figure that lay on the big bed covered by a sheet.

McGonagall sighed. "What happened to the bed curtains, Poppy?"

"He pulled them down himself, Minerva. Probably had a massive attack and clutched at them as he fell. We found him twisted up in them. I had Filch dispose of them. Certainly no one else will have any use for them."

McGonagall nodded. "Who'll be arranging for burial? Does he have any family left?"

Poppy snorted. "Not that's willing to claim him, I'm sure. I'm afraid it'll all be left up to Albus. He's likely to be the only true mourner, anyway."

McGonagall nodded again. "Poor Albus, he was inexplicably fond of Severus. I never could figure out why. It's not like the man ever did anything to deserve his regard. No gratitude or warmth there, no expression of friendship on Severus' part, let me tell you. Sullen, cold, unpleasant...well, he's gone now."

Poppy nodded in agreement. "Yes. Well, I need to go see Albus. To see if there's anything I can do to help him get through this. Are you coming?"

McGonagall nodded, and the two women turned and left the room.

Snape slowly crossed the room and stood looking down at the still figure on the bed. Well, it was certainly true that you learned who your friends were, or weren't in this case, after you were gone. Had he really expected anything else? What had he ever done to merit anything other than rejection or derision?

He reached out a hand to draw back the cover from over the face of the figure on the bed. He felt compelled to be sure that it truly was his body under that sheet. The room became darker and darker, but his cold dead face seemed to glow with a ghostly light. It grew brighter and larger until it totally filled his field of vision. Suddenly, the eyes flew open and looked at him, and he found himself falling into their inky black depths. Down, down, down into nothingness.