Chapter Two
The morning before Christmas, the Great Hall was looking lonely. A lone boy sat in the middle of a long table, waiting for food to appear. Being the only student left in the castle, Harry had the privilege of requesting for whatever food he liked. So, he ate his cereal broodingly, his thoughts filled with dread about what was coming.
A week ago, just before the holiday began, Dumbledore had announced that the school would be closing down this Christmas break, requiring everyone to go home for the holidays. Upon hearing this, the Dursleys threw a fit, claiming that they only agreed to house the boy once a year, and that was during the summer. If they were to be forced to take him this Christmas break, then he would just have to find somewhere else to live for the rest of the summer.
Left with no choice, the headmaster had to request the only staff member who wasn't actually busy to take Harry. Of course, with the boy's luck, that staff member had to be Snape.
Harry sighed as he ate his cereal, now soggy from being left in the bowl of milk for too long. He finished the last spoonful and got up, deciding to run back up to the Tower while he still had time. As he reached the entrance to the Great Hall, he nearly collided with something.
Looking up, he found himself staring at his most hated professor, who sneered down at him in turn.
"Bring your things into my office in fifteen minutes, Potter," said the man, as though he were assigning detention. Harry knew that tone all too well.
"Yes, Sir," he said, silently wondering how long he would be able to keep his temper in check. Probably not that long, he decided. Still, the least he could do was try since he would be at the mercy of the Potions Master for the rest of the holiday.
He quickly disappeared from the man's sight and returned to the common room, where his things were already packed. He didn't have much, only a small trunk and an owl cage.
Not wanting to prolong his agony, he dragged his things and proceeded to the dungeons, his heart feeling heavier as he got closer to the dreaded man's office.
Upon reaching the dungeons, he dropped his things on the floor, steeling himself. He took a deep breath before knocking, feeling more uneasy as the seconds ticked by, but no response came.
Sitting down on his trunk, he decided to wait. He had to admit that he was rather early; the man could still be eating breakfast in the Great Hall for all he knew. As soon as he got comfortable, a cold voice echoed from behind him, making him jump.
"Potter."
Harry glared at the Potions Master, who had an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.
"You're early," observed Snape, his tone unchanging. He seemed displeased at the Gryffindor's early appearance.
The boy scowled, thinking about the unfairness of it all. Whether he was early, late, or just in time, the man would surely find something to say. What had he ever done to earn the git's ire except having been sorted into Gryffindor and being the Boy Who Lived?
Snape unlocked his office and entered, impatiently gesturing for the boy to follow. When Harry did, the door slammed shut behind him, making him jump for the second time that day.
"A bit jumpy, aren't we?" said the man, his tone laced with malice.
The younger wizard clamped his mouth shut; he wasn't going to rise to the bait. At least, not this early. When no response came, Snape merely raised an eyebrow before reaching for something in his pocket.
Without warning, he pointed his wand at Harry's trunk and cage, causing them to shrink. He pocketed the objects before holding out his hand, revealing a cork.
"What are you waiting for? Take it," he said when he saw the boy staring blankly at him.
"What's that?" asked the teenager suspiciously.
"Why it's a cork, Potter."
"You know what I mean!" said the boy, anger bubbling up inside him. He had tried to be tolerant, but the git was pushing all his buttons.
"It's a Portkey, now quit dawdling! I do not have all day," said the older wizard, shaking his outstretched hand.
"Cockroach Cluster," said the man as soon as the boy's hand touched the object. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"What's a Port—" Harry's statement was cut off when he felt a kick in his stomach, and suddenly they were no longer in the familiar office.
He fell hard on the floor as they arrived at a mysterious house. Sneering at the boy, Snape unshrank the trunk and the owl cage and made them disappear with a wave of his wand.
"Follow me," he said, not attempting to hide his displeasure.
He led the boy up a flight of stairs and into a long corridor, stopping at the last door. Opening it, he said, "This will be your room. As I do not have any House Elves, I expect you to keep it clean, even though you think it too difficult a task."
Harry nodded, too tired to argue. It was only nine in the morning, but he already felt emotionally exhausted. With that, Snape turned and left, slamming the door in the process.
As the Potions Master left, Harry observed his room for the first time, surprised to find that he rather liked it. In all honesty, he had half expected be asked to sleep on the couch, but he imagined Dumbledore wouldn't take kindly to it.
He found his trunk and owl cage in the middle of the room and pushed them to the wall opposite his bed, not bothering to unpack. Hedwig would find his way there soon, he thought as he stared at the empty cage. He sighed and let his legs dangle as he lay on his bed.
He loved how cozy the room felt despite it obviously being a guestroom. The furniture itself was remarkable; they were antique and elegant. It was a stark contrast to his room at his relatives' house, which was more of a room with a bed rather than an actual bedroom. This one was completely furnished. It had a bookshelf, a large closet, and even a study table. He felt comfortable despite the fact that he was in Snape's house.
After exploring every corner of the room, Harry found himself bored. He went through his trunk and pulled out his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, which he had received from Hermione last Christmas. Flipping to a random page, he saw a section about different Quidditch stunts and tricks and found himself engrossed. Hours later, he heard a knock on his door, and he looked up as he shut his book, wondering what the man could possibly want.
Snape didn't wait to be invited in. He opened the door and said, "Lunch. Be down in five minutes."
Harry stared at the man's retreating figure, surprised that it was already noon. He followed the professor into the kitchen and saw the table filled with various food. He briefly wondered if the food was from Hogwarts.
He waited awkwardly by the door, unsure whether or not he was actually welcome in the kitchen. When Snape scowled at the sight of him, he quickly shuffled in.
He sat across his professor despite the urge to sit somewhere far away. He watched the older wizard serve himself before he began filling his own plate with food. As he ate, he stared resolutely down at his plate, refusing to deal with his professor, who seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face.
Snape ate quietly, not minding his younger companion in the least. His plan was to treat the boy as though he were nonexistent, and it was working spectacularly.
This is awkward, thought Harry as he ate, still not looking up in case he accidentally made eye contact with the man. Deciding that getting ignored was better than having the man's anger directed at him, he continued to act as though he were invisible. Snape didn't seem to mind, so no words were exchanged between the two during the entire meal.
As soon as Snape finished eating, his plate disappeared. He kept his eyes fixed on the Gryffindor in front of him.
Feeling a strange prickling at the back of his neck, Harry instinctively looked up and found himself looking straight into the man's eyes. He narrowed his eyes, wondering what the other man was thinking.
As though reading his mind, Snape said, "It is customary to wait for others to finish eating before leaving the table." It seemed like he was about to add something, an insult, most likely, but he stopped himself.
Harry quickly finished the last spoonful and said, "I'm done, Sir."
The man abruptly stood and left, leaving the teenager alone in the kitchen. He found the professor's actions odd, but he shook his head and ignored it, deciding to return to his room. A moment later, he heard another knock at his door. What now?
"Your fan mail, Potter," sneered Snape as he shoved some letters into the boy's hands.
"I don't have fans!" he said, but the other wizard was already leaving. He glared at the door but felt significantly happier at the thought of his friends. He smiled as he read about Ron's long rant about Percy and Hermione's vacation in France.
Later that afternoon, he went down with the intention of asking about Hedwig. He crept down the stairs, feeling apprehensive for some reason. He heard two distinct voices engaged in a heated argument. The first one belonged to Snape; the second one was speaking in a low volume, and he had to strain his ears to recognize Dumbledore's voice.
He thought about turning back, not wanting to be accused of eavesdropping. Unfortunately, the headmaster decided to address him at that exact moment.
"Harry, my boy," said the old wizard, smiling in a grandfatherly fashion.
"Hello, Professor," said the boy meekly.
"Eavesdropping, Potter?" sneered Snape.
"I was just going to turn back!" he said defensively.
"After listening to our conversation? That is eavesdropping."
"Now, Severus. I'm sure Harry wouldn't do that," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling madly.
Harry wondered what the two had been arguing about when his gaze fell on a mysterious pine tree, which he could have sworn wasn't there that morning, in the middle of the living room.
"What—"
"Ah yes," said Dumbledore, following the boy's gaze. "I was just telling Professor Snape here that Christmas wouldn't be complete without a tree."
Harry gawked at the old wizard, deciding that the headmaster was indeed going barmy. No wonder they were arguing. He was pretty sure that Snape would agree with him when he said that Dumbledore was crazy, and that was saying a lot.
"And as I was just telling the headmaster," the professor began as he glared at the old man, who seemed oblivious to the look he was receiving. "I have no desire to partake in a decorating activity."
Harry looked confused, and he turned to Dumbledore for an explanation.
The old wizard clapped his hands together and said, "I suggested that you two decorate the Christmas tree together!" He looked expectantly at the boy, whose jaw dropped.
"Er... I think I'll pass," said the Gryffindor, thinking that sparing the headmaster's feelings was the least of his worries.
"Aren't you busy, Albus?"
"Yes, of course," said Dumbledore. "I was just checking on you two."
"And you've seen us. You should be on your way."
"Yes, yes. Merry Christmas, Harry," said the headmaster as he let the man usher him to the fireplace. As soon as the old man disappeared, Snape turned and fixed his glare on the boy.
"Do not let me catch you eavesdropping again. Is that clear?" he asked menacingly.
"Yes, Sir," said Harry, trying hard not to say anything else.
"You may eat dinner in your room tonight, and only tonight," said the man. He needed some time to himself.
"Sir!" the boy suddenly called. Snape turned and looked at the teenager, an eyebrow raised.
"Hedwig—my owl..."
"She will join you tomorrow," said the professor dismissively as he turned away, disappearing into his room. Harry sighed and went into his own room. There was a tray of food on his study table. If Snape wasn't in the mood to eat, that wasn't his problem. He finished off everything on his plate, feeling satisfied.
Once the tray disappeared, he plopped himself on his bed and reflected on the day's events. It was actually better than what he was expecting. If the man continued to ignore him for the most part, he might actually survive without getting in trouble. Besides, it wasn't all bad. If there was one good thing about being in Snape's house instead of at Privet Drive, it was that he got to eat thrice a day, and that was more than he could ask for.
