Second Chances: A Christmas Tale
Author's Note: I do not own A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens, or the Harry Potter characters, I merely borrowed them for a little holiday fun! Also, there are spoilers for Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince in this story.
This is my take on the classic Charles Dickens short story, A Christmas Carol. I know there are many other Harry Potter versions of it, but the ones I found were mostly parodies or comedies, and I wanted to take a more serious look at the story. I really enjoyed writing this, and any feedback, good or bad, is welcome. I will be posting a chapter each Saturday(or whenever this will let me...I've been trying since Friday night...) until Christmas, so make sure to check in each weekend for the next installment! Normally I'd say Happy Holidays, but seeing as this is a Christmas story, I will say Merry Christmas!
-Foodie
Severus Snape was a bitter, cold man of sixty years. Upon returning from the war of long ago a victor, showered in rewards and praise, he'd promptly quit his job at Hogwarts and opened up a small apothecary shop in Hogsmeade. He tried his best to never show any outward signs of happiness-not a difficult feat for him-and had taken to hoarding his newly found fortune in a vault at Gringotts, for which it could be said that once a single knut of his entered the doors, it never saw the light of day again.
The apothecary shop was a small, cramped place, with shelves of dried ingredients, bottles of pickled things, and vials of coloured liquids. It was a dark, dismal place, not at all conducive to brightening one's attitude towards life and all it had to offer. The shop seemed to have the ability to drain energy from a person when he entered through the door. Upon leaving, he would find his energy returned, as it had been minutes previously. Because of this, people never tended to stay in the shop for any longer than was absolutely necessary, which was just as Snape preferred it.
Snape had one employee he kept for his knowledge of herb lore, as well as his ability to deflect the customers from him. Neville Longbottom, a former pupil, spent long days in the shop, where he was subject to the continual torment and abuse of his employer. Neville was used to such torment from him, though, and didn't take too much notice of it.
What Neville couldn't help taking notice, of, was how cold the shop was in the winter months. Snape said that the quality of his inventory would deteriorate in the heat, and wouldn't allow him to light a fire to stay warm. Because of this, his teeth would chatter loudly, and he would rub his hands together to warm himself up. This is exactly what he was doing when this story begins.
It was December the twenty-fourth, otherwise commonly known as Christmas Eve Day, and it was business as usual at Snape's apothecary shop. No signs of the holiday could be seen inside, except for a few sprigs of mistletoe that were being prepared for use in a potion.
All around Hogsmeade, storefronts were decked out with jolly-looking decorations, like holly wreaths, twinkling stars, heavily decorated trees, and large floating crystal baubles. Blythe's Toy Shoppe featured a life-sized ballerina dancing with an equally large nutcracker. Chess sets battled against one another in the frosted window front. Walking and talking dolls brushed each other's hair and had tea parties while the small inhabitants of a doll house sat down to breakfast. By the day's end, most of them would be wrapped up and snuggly placed under Christmas trees, where they'd eagerly await being opened the next morning.
It was a glorious time in Hogsmeade. Carolers stood on each corner singing songs for all to hear. Children played on their sleds, and flew, screaming and shrieking down the hills. A few young lovers traveled up and down the streets in sleighs, waving to the people on the streets. Others stood around small fires, drinking eggnog or apple cider, and roasting chestnuts, all the while wishing each other a Happy Christmas.
Neville was enjoying looking at the happy scenes outside from behind the counter as he stamped his feet and rubbed his hands to stay warm. Snape was busy stocking the shelves, and didn't notice any of the goings on outside. When he turned around, Neville smiled at him and pointed to the window. "Looks like it's going to be a good Christmas this year, doesn't it?" he asked timidly.
Snape frowned and sniffed. "Just another excuse to be lazy, if you ask me. All this Christmas business is foolish nonsense," he growled. Neville's smile faded as he watched Snape take out his wand and flick it in the direction of the windows, causing the shades to fall down noisily. "No more staring out of windows," Snape sneered. "I don't pay you generously to stand about and gaze out of windows all day."
Neville frowned, nodded his head, and quickly picked up a rag to start dusting the shelves and counters. After an hour or so had passed in frosty silence, the door to the shop flew open with a loud bang. Both men turned to see who was there.
Draco Malfoy walked inside the shop, carrying a rather large green pine Christmas wreath swathed in a festive deep green and silver-lined ribbon. "Merry Christmas, Severus!" he cried happily while setting the wreath down on the counter. "And a Merry Christmas to you too, Longbottom," he added before pointing to the wreath. "Why don't you go put this on the door?"
Neville smiled and ventured a rebellious glance at Snape before grabbing the wreath and hurrying towards the door. "I don't pay you generously to hang decorations, Longbottom!" Snape called out while Draco walked up to him.
"Oh, relax, Severus, it's Christmas! It only comes but once a year," Draco admonished.
"Rather that it never came at all," Snape retorted with a deep frown.
"You don't really mean that do you?"
"Of course I do. Don't you think I now my own mind? Christmas is just an excuse to lay about for a day, overeating, and giving frivolous trinkets to one another. If it were up to me, I'd call off Christmas altogether," he replied emphatically.
"I don't think it's really as bad as all that," Draco retorted with a grin.
"I hardly think it a good thing. Now, please, I am a very busy man, and I haven't the time to stand around chattering on so." With that, Snape walked back to a shelf and picked up his inventory list again.
"Oh, come Severus, I only came to invite you up to the school for Christmas dinner tomorrow," Draco said. "Please say you'll come this year."
Snape frowned. "You ask me each year, and each year I say no; why don't you stop trying already?" he replied coldly.
"Because each year I have new hope that you'll say yes," Draco replied. "It's such a wonderful place to be on Christmas, and you're the closest thing I have to family left in the world. Please, Severus-godfather-say yes this year."
"I have my reasons for not celebrating Christmas. Do not pester me any longer," Snape said, hoping that would put an end to the conversation.
"I know your reasons, and they're all the more reason why you should celebrate with me," Draco said. "We're all we have left now."
By now, Neville had returned, with a smile upon his face. Snape saw him listening intently on their conversation, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "This conversation is now over, Draco. Please leave me in peace."
Draco shook his head sadly and turned to leave. "Merry Christmas, Longbottom," he said pointedly.
"Merry Christmas, Professor Malfoy," Neville replied quietly.
"And a very Merry Christmas to you too, Severus!" Draco cried.
"Goodbye, Draco," Snape said coolly.
"And a very Happy New Year to you too."
"Goodbye, Draco," Snape growled warningly.
"Shall I tell the house elves to set a place for you tomorrow, then?"
"Goodbye, Draco."
"I'll have them set a place, you know, just in case."
Snape was no longer paying attention to him; he'd begun noisily chopping the stems of the mistletoe into tiny pieces. With a sigh and a shrug, Draco turned and finally left the shop.
Things slowly settled down after that. Neville helped a few customers before leaving for his lunch hour. Snape generously allotted him forty-five minutes a day to return home to lunch.
Snape was himself eating a sandwich for lunch, when the shop door opened again. Two men in simple brown robes walked into the shop and closed the door. One of the men carried a box in his hands.
"Good afternoon, sir," the empty-handed gentleman, called out. "How are you on this glorious day?" Snape sniffed, and didn't reply. "Well, then…let me introduce myself," the man continued. "I am Bishop, and this is Ives, and we are volunteering our time for the Werewolf Support Association. Each year we try to collect money to help the families of werewolves throughout Britain. Because of the strict laws, werewolves find it difficult to support their families all year long, but it is especially hard at Christmas. There are the children to think of, after all. So we just came up from London, and are going to be canvassing the Hogsmeade area this afternoon. How much would you care to donate?" Bishop asked, stopping to take a breath while Ives held out the box and looked expectantly at Snape.
Snape's eyes had narrowed to murderous slits during Bishop's speech, and his lip curled with disgust. "Why should I support them? Has Azkaban suddenly filled up? Or St. Mungos? If they need so much support, then they're clearly not making any sort of worthy contribution to society. Why should we be stuck caring for them? Better to have an end to them all and be done with it. We'd all be better off…" he continued while marching to the door and opening it. "Now, if you please, leave before I lose my temper."
Ives frowned and clutched his box. "But…but…It's Christmas, Mr. Snape," he sputtered.
"A pox on Christmas! And on you! Now go!" Snape roared.
The men were scurrying as quickly out the door as possible when Neville returned from lunch. "What was that all about?" he asked cautiously.
"Beggers," Snape spat bitterly.
"I see," Neville replied while shutting the door and returning to the counter.
The rest of the day went smoothly, until a couple hours before closing time. The shop door opened again, and in walked three small children, wearing thick winter robes to stay warm and broad smiles on their faces. They clasped their hands together, and began to sing:
We wish you a Merry Christmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year!
When the children had finished their song, they turned and looked eagerly at Snape. Snape looked rather frightening as he scowled and marched over towards them. Before he could do anything, though, Neville intervened. He handed each child a peppermint imp from his pocket before quickly dispatching them from the shop. "All right, thank you, Happy Christmas," he said hurriedly as the kids skipped out of the door.
Snape managed to avoid any more annoying people for the rest of the day. When it was time to close shop, he saw Neville standing next to the counter, twisting his hands nervously. "Oh, I suppose you want tomorrow off," Snape snapped.
"If it's not a problem, I would like to spend the day with my family," Neville replied.
"And I suppose you expect to be paid even though you won't be doing any work?" Snape continued.
"Well…it is customary…" Neville murmured.
Snape folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently for a moment. "Oh, fine, since I can tell that you won't take no for an answer, I suppose I'll have to," he growled. "Honestly, what I go through for you. And the wages I pay you too. You'll do well to show up extra early the next day, and that's that."
Neville smiled, his eyes shining. "Oh, thank you, Snape, thank you very much. Merry Chr- er um…I'll see you on Boxing Day then," he stammered before leaving the shop and returning to his home. Snape locked the door to his shop, and promptly apparated to Spinner's End.
Snape had never bothered to move into a better house after the war had ended. It had been large enough to suit his needs, yet small enough to maintain, and he'd never seen the sense of changing that. He knew every nook and cranny of that house, and I say house, not home, for it had never been a home in any sense of the word, it was merely the place he inhabited.
He had apparated into the front room, and was in the middle of hanging up his robes, when he noticed something on his arm. The tattoo he'd had in a former life had long since faded since its power source had been vanquished, so you can imagine his utter shock to see a shape there again. And not just any shape, but the shape of his long-dead former partner in crime, Lucius Malfoy. Snape blinked a few times and shook his arm, in hopes of dislodging the image, but it didn't work. The face of Lucius stared blankly up at him, blinking every few seconds. Snape closed his eyes for almost a full minute, and when he reopened them, he breathed a sigh of relief, for the image had disappeared from his arm. He shook his head, and walked off to prepare a bowl of stew for his supper.
After a hastily eaten bowl of mutton stew, Snape retreated to his bedroom. The room was sparsely furnished and bitterly cold, for he never lit a fire to stay warm. He lit a candle and set it on the nightstand, and after changing into an old, dingy gray nightgown, he slid under the covers of his bed. He had just begun to read his newest potion book, when the doorknob to his closed bedroom door began to rattle loudly. He looked up, hoping the house hadn't recently become the living quarters to a pesky poltergeist, but the rattling stopped as soon as he'd put his book down.
He returned to his reading, but a minute later, the shutters to his bedroom window flew open, and his candle flickered out. He snarled angrily while reaching for his wand, and shutting the windows once again. Before he had a chance to relight his candle, he noticed an odd silverish glow at the foot of his bed. The place on his arm that had once sported his Mark began to throb with pain, the pain he hadn't felt for many years now.
Snape clasped his arm and looked on with silent horror as the silver light began to take shape. Before he knew it, Lucius Malfoy, or the ghost of Lucius Malfoy, floated before him. As hard as he tried, he couldn't keep the sharp intake of breath from being audible in the otherwise silent room.
Lucius looked nothing in death as he had in life. His once-long silvery mane of hair now hung limply down around his shoulders and back. He was thin, gaunt, and ashen. His clothes hung in tatters, and a thick iron chain was twisted all about his body. Snape cringed as he saw the ghosts of other people attached to several chinks of the chain. Every once in a while, one of them would moan and pull on it, throwing Lucius off balance.
"Lucius…what are you doing here?" Snape finally croaked, his eyes wide with shock.
"I have been allowed to return only this one night," Lucius replied, looking anguished that he could only stay so shortly. "I have come to give you a warning, my old friend, in the hopes that you won't end up like me."
"What are you talking about?" Snape asked with a frown.
"Even now I can see a chain such as mine forming around you," Lucius replied, pointing.
Snape looked down and saw a thick iron chain beginning to ensnare him. He gasped again and tried to bat at the chain, but his hands passed right through it.
"Severus, there is still time to make a change in your life for the better," Lucius said.
"What sort of change?"
"A change of heart, my friend. Something I never had a chance to do in my former life, but am tormented with every moment of this next one. Every second I sit on the edge of Paradise, looking in yet never able to enter. The sins of my past now weigh me down, and I cannot go any further. These chains, Severus, are made of my sins-my hatred and anger, and the lives I took. I can never get away from it. But you still can. You must learn to turn away from your anger and hate. You must learn to care."
"Lucius, there is nothing wrong with my life now," Snape replied.
"You don't think so now, but you will see, one day, when it's too late, you will see," Lucius said as one of the other ghosts grabbed at his shirt and tore the corner off. "I have made arrangements, Severus, to help you. You will be visited by three other ghosts. The first will come tonight at one o'clock and the other two each subsequent night at the same time. Perhaps, with their help, you can see where to make the changes you need in your life. I wish you luck, Severus." With that, Lucius walked slowly, the extra ghosts weighing him down, to the window, opened it, and jumped out.
Severus hurried out of the bed, noticing that the chains around him had disappeared. When he looked out the window, there was no sign of Lucius; there was only a thick, swirling fog enveloping the house. He quickly shut the window and closed the curtains in hopes of shutting out the fog. For some inexplicable reason, it made his heart pound harder than anything he'd witnessed that evening.
After checking that his bedroom door was still locked, he returned to bed, and in spite of all that had occurred, he was overcome with fatigue, and immediately fell asleep.