9
The next morning, Snape discussed the charms needed to make a candle pick up on the mood around it and ooze a fitting scent with Flitwick before the students turned up for breakfast. The small Charms master had some spells up his sleeve Snape had never heard of although he was an accomplished caster himself. He even had considered apprenticing for a mastery in Charms at some point in his youth if only briefly.
Flitwick was more than willing to share his knowledge and demonstrated wand movements patiently. Some of them were more complicated than anything the potions master had ever attempted, some surprisingly simple.
When Dumbledore arrived, he joined the conversation and soon the three wizards were not only absorbed in a discussion of spells but also in a competition of wand work. Snape had to use all his expertise to keep pace with the two other wizards.
"Don't let them lure you onto their territory, lad," McGonagall advised when she sat down beside Snape. "Filius is a master in this field and Albus has a century of experience on you. You cannot win. Why don't you leave those two to their childish fight and enjoy breakfast with me? Look, we got blueberry pancakes today!"
Snape was grateful for the way out the witch offered. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he hinted a bow to Dumbledore and Flitwick who was just demonstrating how to charm the flame of a candle into a raven which flew once around the Great Hall before it returned to the wick. "The lady requires my attention."
Neither Flitwick nor Dumbledore took notice of the potions master backing out of their competition but Snape did not care. Blueberry pancakes were one of his guilty pleasures when it came to breakfast.
"Have you found out about that egg?" McGonagall asked, pointing at the fur bag beside Snape's plate.
"No, I will have to interview Hagrid," he admitted.
"Do you think he will tell you? He seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit when he gave you those tiny hints."
"Madame," Snape puffed out his chest. "I am not the Head of Slytherin for nothing!"
McGonagall laughed good-naturedly. "I'd love to see you roast him!"
"I'm afraid an audience would hinder my plans," Snape said shrewdly.
By the time Dumbledore and Flitwick had finally agreed on a draw, the students and teachers were all well fed and watered and waiting for the headmaster to announce it was time to open the advent calendar. Once again there was a dash to the walls and everybody got their gift.
Again, most students discovered little things like chocolates, cookies and vials of easy brews. New that day were beautiful glass baubles. "I held a workshop yesterday," McGonagall whispered to Snape. "Ah, this one must be Miss Patil's work. She's really good with those tiny stars inside." The youngest Patil sister was a Gryffindor first year. "I'm glad I got one of these myself."
Snape did not get a bauble for his tree. Instead, he got an old-fashioned candlesnuffer. Not what he really needed but it was nicely decorated and would look splendid beside his new candle, so Snape was pleased.
Some of the more sophisticated gifts of the day involved glasses which enabled the wearer to see through other people's robes – received by Vincent Crabbe, confiscated by Severus Snape after the boy had spent too much time staring at Pansy Parkinson open-mouthed – and a hat which gave the wearer's robes Christmassy patterns – received by a tiny Hufflepuff by, envied by many.
During his lunch break, Snape grabbed a vial of stomach soothing potion and made his way down to Hagrid's hut.
"Hagrid," he greeted the half-giant who was busy grooming the Christmas trees for the Great Hall. "I thought I'd come down to see how Fang was."
"Bless you, Professor!" the gamekeeper cried. "Fang is as good as new thanks to the potion you made for him."
"I brought stomach soother, just in case." Snape showed the vial.
Hagrid cleaned his hands on his trousers. "Would you care for a cup of tea? You can't have had lunch yet." He gestured at his hut invitingly.
"Tea would be most welcome, Hagrid," replied Snape. "It's pretty cold out here."
"You really should get a warmer coat, Professor," advised Hagrid. His moleskin coat looked at lot warmer than Snape's black wool cloak. He busied himself with the kettle as soon as they were inside.
Snape ordered lunch for two from the house elves. "I hope you don't mind," he told his host, "I don't want to cause you work." There was no way he was going to eat Hagrid's cooking, egg or not.
"Nah, them elves are decent cooks," the half-giant set down a cup in front of his guest. "And if they provide the food we can chat at leisure." He proceeded to give Snape a detailed account of Fang's recovery process.
"It's so important that animals are properly cared for," agreed Snape when Hagrid pointed out how Fang liked to be covered with a woollen blanket but not his tail. "I shudder to think what will happen if my egg hatches and I don't know what the beastie inside needs!"
Hagrid stopped his fork in mid-air. "I hadn't thought about that!" he admitted. "I'd better tell you so you can prepare!"
"It would spoil my surprise but be beneficial for the animal," Snape agreed.
Hagrid nodded. "A Scottish highland dragon," he said. "It's a Scottish highland dragon."
"A dragon?" cried Snape. "You put a dragon egg into an advent calendar which is opened children?"
Hagrid laughed. "Calm down, Professor! It's not a real dragon."
"Does it breathe fire?" Snape asked, agitated.
"Only tiny flames," Hagrid tried to reassure his guest.
"If it breathes fire, it's a dragon," Snape said through gritted teeth. "No matter the size of the flames! – Dragons are illegal!"
"Scottish highland dragons are extinct," Hagrid huffed. "How can an extinct animal be illegal?"
"How can they be extinct when you gave me an egg?"
Hagrid poured some firewhisky from a half-full bottle into both their tea cups. "You really need to calm down, Professor. Highland dragons are the only known case of squibbism in animals. About two hundred years ago, more and more dragons were born without magic. Nowadays they are as good as non-magical. The muggles noticed them and call them common lizards. Once in a while, there is a blue egg in a clutch and you get a proper highland dragon. They are tiny, their flame is just big enough to light a candle and they live for only a couple of months. It will make a splendid pet. All you need to know is that they drink firewhisky."
"No wonder they lost their magic," muttered Snape. "Where would they get firewhisky in the wild?"
"They don't drink firewhisky in the wild," Hagrid pointed out. "In the wild, they prefer snake venom but it can be replaced with firewhisky and I thought that would be easier. But if you'd rather go and hunt down snakes in the middle of winter…"
Snape rolled his eyes. "Of course not, Hagrid. Thank you for the information. I will proceed to get some firewhisky for the dragon. Do you know whether they prefer a certain brand?"
"I'd try the usual stuff first," Hagrid shrugged. "Nothing wrong with a good shot of Ogden's, is there?"
After dinner, Snape transfigured a small terrarium from an unused vial. He charmed it shatter-proof and fireproof. After some thought, he added a couple of stones to sit on, a small nest and a bowl of firewhisky charmed not to evaporate, just in case the beast hatched while he was not at home. The last thing he added was a spell to notify him if there was movement in the terrarium.
Content with the achievements of the day, Snape once again went to bed early and dreamed of better times.