A Wizard's Christmas Carol.

Summary: Well, 'tis about that time of year when I usually attempt to churn out something festive. Alright, so last years didn't actually end up going anywhere and the year before that Lily Luna told some bad Christmas jokes, but this year I'm going to make a real effort. As the title implies, this is based of the great story by Charles Dickens: A Christmas Carol. Enjoy!

Warnings: Snape-centric fic, though he isn't really portrayed in a positive light all the way through. There are flash-back sequences akin to The Prince's Tale seen in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but the reality isn't sugar-coated like it was in that particular chapter. On the other hand, I am going to try to be at least somewhat nice to him in this story.

Dumbledore-bashing, some light Weasley-bashing, 100% absolute Albus Severus bashing.

Stave One: Rosier's Ghost

Rosier was dead, to begin with. That much must be established, otherwise nothing that happens within this story will make sense.

He had died beside his friend Wilkes as they both resisted arrest on Christmas Eve, 1980. Senior Auror Alastor Moody and his team had tracked them down and both men decided to fight rather than be arrested.

Evan Rosier was killed by Moody's wand. He is as dead as a doornail.

Christmas Eve, 1995

Hogwarts was almost completely deserted. With Dolores Umbridge marching about the place, sucking the fun out of life as she brought in one educational decree after another, there wasn't a single student who had elected to stay within the castle over the Christmas Holidays.

As such, the staff were not required to be on duty and most had retired to their respective homes for the festive period.

Deep down in the dark and dank dungeons, one Professor remained, having spent most of the day working carefully on a potion.

As one of the castle's bells tolled five pm, the Professor pushed a stopper into the last phial and slipped it into a case, along with twenty four others.

Twenty five doses of love potion.

The boy was getting closer to the wrong woman, but to sever that closeness too quickly would raise alarm. The trick was to be subtle. Lightly applied throughout the rest of the school year, these potions would ensure that the boy would get closer to the one he was supposed to be with. The one the Headmaster had selected for him.

The Headmaster's reasoning was that the boy would grow to become a powerful influence on their society. As such, he needed to have a bride who looked the part.

Closing the case, the Professor sneered. As if he cared who the brat ended up with. But the Headmaster had requested that he brew the potion…

There was a knock at the door and the Professor looked up to see the school's Caretaker standing in the doorway.

"What is it, Mr Filch?" demanded the Professor.

"I'll be locking the front doors within the next half hour, Professor Snape," replied Filch. "You'll need to be gone by then."

"Yes," replied Snape, somewhat tersely. "Thank you, Mr Filch."

The Caretaker nodded and shuffled out of the room as fast as his rheumatism would allow.

Snape took the case off of his desk and turned around.

"Wonky!" he barked.

With a pop, a small House Elf appeared in front of him.

"Yes, Professor sir?" asked the Elf, a young female.

Snape thrust the case towards her, impacting her in the stomach and knocking the air out of her.

"Take this to the Headmaster," he demanded. "It's bad enough that I had to brew it, I'll not store it in my house until the students return.

Wonky took the case from Snape, but it was much too heavy for her and the moment he relinquished his hold on it, the case dropped painfully onto her foot. Wonky winced in pain but made no sound. Looking up at him, she found in starting back at her without expression.

With a pop, Wonky vanished, taking the case with her.

Snape drew his wand and with a swish of it, all of the tools that he had used for making the potion were cleaned. Another swish and they all began flying back to their rightful places upon shelves or inside drawers or cupboards.

As this was happening, the Potions Professor marched into his own private quarters where he took an old black suitcase down from on top of his wardrobe. He didn't have much in the way of personal effects, and most of those that he did have he would not need during his time away from the school. A few flicks of the wand later and everything he needed was packed into the suitcase. All in all, he barely filled half of the suitcase.

He slammed the suitcase shut, grabbed his cloak and marched out.

In the Entrance Hall, he was met by Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration Professor, and the Caretaker.

"Are we the last?" asked Snape as he marched over to the front doors.

"No, we're still waiting on Professor Sinistra…" replied McGonagall.

As if on cue, the Astronomy Professor chose that moment to appear at the top of the marble staircase.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed as she made her way down the staircase. "I'm afraid I got rather caught up in the latest issue of Astronomy Monthly and didn't realise the time. I hope I didn't hold anyone up?"

"Not at all," replied Professor McGonagall, kindly. "Professor Snape has only just joined us. Shall we?"

She gestured towards the door and the other three nodded.

"So…" began Professor Sinistra, trying to keep the conversation going while Mr Filch locked the doors "How are you all planning to spend your time off?"

"I will be returning to by mother and father's old Manse outside Caithness," replied Professor McGonagall. "My two brothers and their families have a tradition of meeting there every year for Christmas. This is the first time in years that I will be able to spend the whole of Christmas day with them, rather than the few hours Dumbledore usually lets me have when the castle has students staying for the holidays. I must say that I am rather looking forward to it."

"Sounds like the best way to spend Christmas to me," said Professor Sinistra as they all began the walk down to the front gates of the school. "How about you, Argus?"

"I'm goin' down to Redruth in Cornwall," replied the Caretaker. "My sister runs a pub down there so I'm stopping in one of the rooms. Probably help out behind the bar as well. You know, she always used to do these roast dinners: silverside of beef with the best roast potatoes I ever had. Blimey, I'm getting hungry just thinking about it."

"The people you love and the food you love," said Professor Sinistra. "And you, Severus?"

Inwardly, Snape cringed, though on the outside nothing showed. He had been rather hoping that they would get to the gates and disapparate to their respective locations before she got to him.

Resigning himself he replied "Well, there are a few people I will look in on throughout the break, but nothing too specific."

And by that, of course, he meant that he would spend his free time doing what he always did – reporting to either Dumbledore or Voldemort about what the other was doing, but she didn't need to know that much detail.

He hoped that that would be enough to satisfy her.

It wasn't.

"Oh, okay," she said. "I suppose being cooped up in the castle all year means we have to get in as many visits to everyone we know whenever we can."

"Quite," agreed the potions master.

Things went silent for a few moments, giving Snape just enough reason to believe that there would be no further questions.

Then…

"So, uh… Would you maybe be interested in heading down to The Three Broomsticks for a drink or something before heading home? I mean, if you're not doing anything that is?"

The following few moments were awkward to say the least. Snape couldn't be entirely sure, but he thought that he heard a slight groan from McGonagall, which was possibly followed by the words "Not in front of everyone…"

Snape licked his lips. He had no intention of accepting, but he couldn't be too blunt about it in front of McGonagall, who would likely tear him a new one if she thought he was being too insensitive.

"Er-hem!" he coughed. "I'm afraid that I cannot accept your offer, Aurora. I'm due to visit an old acquaintance of mine in about an hour or so. He has a few… well, he's a bit senile but he has latched onto the idea that I will be visiting. If I don't go then he is likely to have an… episode."

"Oh… okay." replied the Astronomy teacher, sounding downhearted.

Snape supressed a smirk. The old senile acquaintance was a story he had used to get out of things before, and it wasn't entirely untrue. He was due to give a report to Voldemort later that evening and, while not necessarily senile, there was no way that the self-styled Dark Lord could be called sane. And as for the "have an episode if I don't turn up" bit – this was a reference to the fact that letting Voldemort down usually resulted in torture curses being thrown around.

So, sort of a lie, but also not.

"How about a rain-check then?" asked Professor Sinistra, in an apparent last-ditch effort to salvage something from the situation.

Snape caught the steely glare McGonagall shot him and found himself replying "Absolutely."

A few moments later they were at the gates and after a quick, cursory goodbye, Snape disapparated.

"Damn…" muttered Professor Sinistra.

"I wouldn't worry too much dear," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm sure that you could do better."

"Thanks," the younger witch mumbled.

There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Mr. Filch.

"So, are we having this drink or not?"

Aurora Sinistra smiled slightly, shrugged her shoulders and replied "Sure. Why not? Will you join us Minerva?"

Professor McGonagall rolled back her sleeve to check her watch before answering "Well, I suppose one glass of sherry with a few of my colleagues couldn't hurt…"

The trio made their way down to the village and entered The Three Broomsticks, where they met the school's Gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, who had already had a couple of drinks with Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher and Professor Sprout, the Herbology specialist.

A few hours later, Severus Snape was indeed in a meeting with Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. His report that Harry Potter and the Weasley siblings had been escorted out of Hogwarts following the attack on the Weasley's father, Arthur, had gone down well. While Voldemort would undoubtedly have preferred the man to have died, any grief caused to Harry Potter was good news in the Dark Lord's book.

Now Snape was sitting next to Avery, waiting for the meeting to end.

Lucius Malfoy finished his report on the current mood of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, and resumed his seat.

"Excellent, Lucius…" hissed the Dark Lord. "Your efforts to ensure that the Ministry of Magic remain blind to my return are most pleasing."

Lucius nodded his head in acceptance of this praise.

Voldemort stood and addressed everyone gathered there.

"My loyal followers," he began. "It is time that we begin planning our next move. Despite our best efforts, recruiting new members while also trying to remain hidden from detection is proving to be a move frustrating task. While we remain hidden, recruitment will remain difficult, but we cannot afford to reveal ourselves yet."

Snape shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat, wondering where the Dark Lord was going with this.

"Therefore," continued Voldemort, "I have begun creating preliminary plans for an assault on Azkaban prison."

At that proclamation, the Death Eaters all exchanged looks and began muttering. Snape himself looked to Avery, who looked just as unsure as Snape himself felt.

"Too many of our number are behind those walls, being slowly turned to madness in the constant presence of the Dementors."

He moved away from his chair and began walking around the table. Empty chairs were left here and there, marking the former positions of those unable to return them due to their being in prison.

Approaching the nearest seat, Voldemort announced the name of the person who should be sitting there.

"Dolohov…" he continued on until he got to the next empty chair. "Rookwood…"

He kept going.

"Travers… Rowle… Northover… Campling… Mulciber…"

That one name caught Snape's attention more than the rest. Mulciber had been the leader amongst his fellow Slytherin dorm-mates while he himself was a student of Hogwarts. There had been five of them: Mulciber, Rosier, Wilkes, Avery and Snape himself.

Again, Snape exchanged looks with Avery. Neither of them was too thrilled with the prospect of having their schoolyard leader back amongst them. Following Voldemort's temporary banishment by Harry Potter in 1981, Snape's group of dorm-mates had been left decimated. Mulciber had been captured and sentenced to an extended stay in Azkaban while Rosier and Wilkes had been killed while resisting arrest a few months before.

Snape himself had been spared Azkaban mostly because Albus Dumbledore had vouched for him while Avery had succeeded on pleading that he had only partaken in Death Eater activities because he had been placed under the Imperius Curse by Mulciber. Given how Mulciber was well known to the Ministry for practicing such magic, this plea had been accepted.

Voldemort had made his way around the end of the table and continued to name the names of his absent Death Eaters as he returned to his seat at the head of the table, finishing with…

"…and of course, the Lestrange family; Rodolphus, Rabastan, and dear Bellatrix."

Bellatrix Lestrange, free once again. It was enough to make almost anyone hide under their bed and cower in fear.

As the Dark Lord returned to his seat he continued.

"The Dementors of Azkaban are our natural allies and our attempts to persuade them to join our side are progressing well. Macnair, you did well you secure the allegiance of the Giant colonies. Now assist Gibbon and the Carrows in their efforts with the Dementors. Once they are on our side, we will be able to proceed with an assault.

"Lucius, use your influence on the Minister to have him reduce the number of human guards stationed at Azkaban, convince him that the funds required would be better used elsewhere. I do not care for the lives of the Aurors; however, reducing their presence will aid us when we break out our missing comrades.

"The rest of you, go about your normal duties."

"Yes, My Lord," those gathered replied as one.

Voldemort dismissed them.

Without making a sound, Severus Snape apparated into a dark alleyway in the town of Cokeworth. He took a moment to look around to make sure that no muggles had noticed his arrival before turning in a swish of his black cloak and striding off along the length of the alleyway and out into the street beyond.

It being winter, the sky above was dark despite the time only being eleven minutes past eight. However, the glow of many street lamps lit the way, allowing many muggles to walk unimpeded here and there, visiting the local pub to sink a few festive drinks or visit the church for a special seasonal service. Judging from the sounds coming from the square, there was a choir and brass band making merry music.

Snape turned in the opposite direction to the pub, the church and the square. Despite his having lived in a house in the area all of his life, he knew none of the people here about. His cold demeanour made sure that every muggle in the area avoided him like the plague, and Snape liked it that way.

At the end of the street he turned right onto a road that sloped somewhat steeply downhill. The further down the hill you went, the dingier the houses got. Most these days were now abandoned, with boarded up windows, doors hanging off their hinges, holes in the roofs and what small gardens there were, were very overgrown.

Spinner's End, the area was called, and Snape lived in one of those houses. Originally it had belonged to his mother, a witch named Eileen Prince, and his father, a muggle named Tobias Snape.

Following their deaths, Snape had taken ownership of the house, though he greatly resented living there. For a time following his graduation from Hogwarts, two of his friends had moved in with him taking the two spare bedrooms in exchange for a few galleons a month. This arrangement suited Rosier and Avery just fine while for Snape it was a relief to have others in the house as it helped him to suppress the worst of his childhood memories, particularly those of his abusive, alcoholic father.

While only Rosier and Avery actually lived there, Wilkes had spent so much time there that he might as well have moved in permanently. Mulciber had been a less frequent visitor. His father had made sure that he had taken the mark of the Dark Lord within a week of his graduation from Hogwarts and Mulciber's malicious tendencies along with his skill in dark magic, especially the Imperius Curse, had quickly gained him the attention of the Dark Lord himself.

It wasn't long before Mulciber was in with the best followers that the Dark Lord had at his disposal, and all too soon Mulciber's visits had been less recreational and more recruitment-oriented.

Wilkes and Rosier had joined up first, followed soon by Avery, though that decision was more to please his father, a vicious man who was himself a Death Eater. Snape had held out the longest, something that had displeased Mulciber greatly. In the end it took a certain wedding ceremony to finally convince Snape to take the plunge and accept the Dark Mark.

Arriving at the gate outside his house, Snape paused. It had been fifteen years since Rosier and Wilkes had been killed while resisting arrest. Snape and Avery had been in the house indulging in some fire whiskey and a few mince pies when Mulciber had burst in through the front door, bruised and bloodied, out of breath and in desperate need of a glass of the afore mentioned fire whiskey.

Earlier in the day, Mulciber had been instructed by the Dark Lord to take Rosier and Wilkes to Godric's Hollow and assassinate Edward Abbott, his muggleborn wife Sarah Fisher and their young daughter. Evidently, following the murders of his best friend Edgar Bones and his immediate family, Edward Abbott had taken a few extra precautions to keep his family safe.

Aurors led by the much venerated Alastor Moody had arrived on the scene before the trio of Death Eaters could fire even a single spell. According to Mulciber, he and the others had killed two Aurors and severely crippled five others before Moody had put a permanent end to Rosier. Wilkes had panicked then and, never having mastered the technique required to apparate, had tried to run.

Wilkes had been cut down as he ran. Seeing both of his accomplices dead, Mulciber decided that there was no further point in fighting and had disapparated while he still could.

This had shaken Avery terribly and deeply unsettled Snape. They had, of course, heard of other Death Eaters being killed in action, but that was different. Those were other people, people they barely knew. But now it had happened to two of their friends, two people whom they had known since the age of eleven. Suddenly the reality of war was brought that much closer to home.

Mulciber had insisted that there was nothing to worry about and reminded them that the Dark Lord was close to taking the Ministry for his own, that Rosier and Wilkes had not died in vain, that they would be avenged…

But the taking of the Ministry never came. Ten months later, the Dark Lord had been banished following his attempt to murder an infant Harry Potter. In the wake of that massive turn of events Mulciber had been sent to Azkaban while Snape and Avery had only just avoided suffering that same fate. The two of them had quickly decided to cut their ties with each other in order to reduce suspicion and Avery had moved out. Since then he had married and had two children.

A chill wind blew down the street as Snape realised that Rosier and Wilkes had been dead for fifteen years that very night.

Shaking away his thoughts of the past, Snape pushed open the gate, stepped through and then shut it with a loud clang which echoed throughout the silent street.

The door to the house was black, though the paint was peeling. There was no visible lock on the door, owing to an enchantment being placed on it, ensuring that only Snape himself could open it.

As he approached the door, a car drove by with its headlights on. For a moment the lights reflected in the ornate door knocker that was situated right in the middle of the door. For reasons unknown to Snape, whoever had chosen to place a door knocker on the door had chosen one with a rather gargoyle-like design.

Maybe it was just a trick from the way the car lights had reflected on the silver knocker, or maybe Snape had just been thinking of his old room-mates too much, but for a fleeting moment he rather struck by just how much the knocker looked like the long deceased Evan Rosier.

Trying to ignore what had surely been a trick of his eyes, Snape stepped up onto the doorstep and reached for the door handle. But even as he did so his gaze was drawn back to the knocker.

Sure enough, there was a face looking back at him. A silvery, spectral face that he recognised as…

"Evan Rosier?" he asked in a disbelieving whisper.

In response the ghostly face opened its mouth wide, unnaturally wide, and let out a deafening yell.

Severus Snape prided himself on not being easily startled, but the response had been so unexpected that he took a panicked step backwards without focusing on just where he was putting his feet. As a result his left foot slipped off the edge of the step and he went crashing down on his back, his head bouncing off the concrete path.

It took a few moments for his vision to right itself. Then, wincing slightly, Snape was able to force himself to sit up. Other than the bump on the back of his head, there was no harm done by the fall. He held his hands out in front of him, palms up to check them, but he had even avoided grazing them.

Then he remembered the reason for his fall and, lowering his hands, he looked back up at the door.

There was nothing there. The knocker was exactly as it should be, without a ghostly face to be seen.

Snape shook his head. Clearly the pressures of answering to both Lord Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore, as well as maintaining his usual teaching duties were beginning to get to him. What he needed was a good rest.

As the night went on, the temperature got a lot colder. By ten thirty the windscreens and roofs of any cars parked out in the open were beginning to ice over.

Inside his house, Snape had lit a fire in the hearth and now sat beside it in a high-backed chair which was upholstered in worn leather. To one side of the chair there sat a small wooden table, on which Snape had placed a large, steaming bowl of onion soup and a toasted bread roll, both of which were charmed to remain warm. Snape himself had changed out of his day ware and now wore a pair of black pyjamas, with a black dressing gown over the top.

He was reading a large tome titled Moste Potente Potions in order to pass the time. The only sounds to be heard within the house were Snape's steady breathing, the crackling of the fire and the occasional turning of a page.

For some reason, above the door to the living room where Snape now sat, there was a bell made of brass. It was about the size of the palm of Snape's hand and, as far as he knew, it served no purpose. He did not know why the bell had been placed there, or if it had ever had a particular use. It was just one of those things about the house that had been that way for as long as he could remember. Not once had he ever heard it ring.

So you can probably imagine his confusion when the silence was interrupted by one single ding of the bell. Knowing of only one thing within the house that could ever produce such a sound, Snape leaned around the high back of his chair to look at the bell.

It wasn't moving.

Deciding that he must have been someone outside, walking back home after playing in the brass band, Snape went back to his book. Until…

Ding-a-ling-a-ling! Went the bell.

Snape turned again and saw that the bell was indeed moving, though it stopped within moments of his eyes locking on to it.

He scowled and reached for the pocket of his dressing gown in order to grab his wand, only to find that his wand wasn't there. Cursing himself, he realised that he must have left it in the pocket of his day robes.

Ding-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling! Went the bell, this time with so much force that Snape thought it might actually wrench itself off of the wall and clatter to the floor.

Suddenly the flames flickering in the sconces on the walls around the room went out, the bell stopped ringing and the fire in the hearth dimmed low and went out.

Now the only light to see by was that produced by the street lamp outside, though not much of that was making its way through curtains that were closed over the window.

Then there came another sound, one that Snape only heard that one time he had managed to hit James Potter with a spell that caused him to be bound in a chain while they were back at Hogwarts. Unless Severus Snape was very much mistaken, the sound he could hear was the sound of chains being dragged across the floor.

Worse, the sound was coming from upstairs!

As Snape listened, he heard the chains drag along the floor of the room immediately above him, the room that had once belonged to Rosier. He heard the squeak of a door opening and then the sound of the chains being dragged along the landing before they clattered with much jangling down the staircase.

Snape was talented in many areas of magic, but wandless apparition was not one of them. Instead he got out of his chair and stood in the small alcove beside the fireplace, hoping that the absence of light within the room, coupled with his dark attire would keep him hidden.

For almost a minute nothing happened. Cautiously, Snape leaned forward and looked at the door. To his horror the brass handle was turning slightly as whatever it was that was out in the hall tried to get into the room.

Severus Snape could barely recall a time when he had ever felt so defenceless, though watching his drunken father strike his mother in the days before Snape had ever owned a wand was very much up there with this experience.

To Snape's relief the handle stopped moving, allowing him to silently hope that whatever it was that lurked beyond the door would give up and leave the house altogether. But after a brief moment, that hope was lost when, without doing even the slightest bit of noticeable damage to the door, a chain flew through it and crashed to the floor.

Snape looked down in horror. The chain, though obviously made of wrought iron, was partially see-through and an eerie, pale green light emanated from it, bathing the room in a sickly glow. And on the very end of the chain, there was a human skull!

A second chain flew through the door, this one attached to an entire rib cage while a third one was attached to a column of vertebral bones and a forth ended in the bones of a forearm and hand, complete with five skeletal fingers.

Perhaps a dozen more chains followed, some ending in bones, others not. But the worst of all was what was on the other end of those chains.

Living in the magical world, Severus Snape was well accustomed to the sight of ghosts, especially as he worked year round in Hogwarts Castle which contained many of the spectral entities.

However, ghosts usually took the form of someone as they were in life. Were it not for their transparency and silvery pallor, one could mistake a ghost as still being alive.

There was nothing about this ghost that looked like it might be alive. Instead it looked for all the world like a corpse that had been in the ground for a year or so. Its skin was peeling from the flesh and bone beneath, one of the eyes was missing and clumps of hair had fallen out. The skin around the face had tightened to expose the skull beneath while there was a hole where its nose should be, and the jaw hung open loosely.

But despite all of this, Snape recognised the face of the spectre. There was no mistaking it.

"Evan Rosier…" he breathed.

The head turned towards Snape's dark alcove and the single eye spun in its socket to focus on the man in question.

"Severus Snape…" the ghost said through it slack jaw. "It has indeed been a long time."

Knowing that there was no sense in continuing to try to hide, Snape stepped out of the shadows.

As stated before, Severus Snape was used to the sight of ghosts, so rather than asking "How?" like most muggles would, he instead asked "What are you doing here?"

If Rosier did not have a slackened jaw, he would have smiled in response to that question. "I have come for you, my old friend," the spirit replied.

"And what do you want with me?" queried Snape, edging to his right. Already a plan was formulating in his head, a plan to keep the spirit talking, distracting it whilst Snape moved slowly around the room towards the door.

It wasn't a very good plan, but it was all he had.

Rosier raised himself up, his toes now hanging several feet above the floor. The chains rattled as they moved and, looking down, Snape saw that the ends were moving of their own free will, all of them towards him. The skull hopped as if it were a frog. The vertebral column and the ribcage writhed about and the hand used it fingers to drag itself forward.

"You have noticed the chains, I see," said Rosier. He reached down and grasped several links of each chain and pulled them back, dragging the skeletal endings away from Snape.

"What are they?" demanded Snape, watching as several of the chains coiled and writhed like serpents.

"Everyone has them, Severus," answered the spirit. "You make them as you go through life. Every misdeed, every sin adds more links to each chain."

He grasped one chain in a scabby, rotten hand and held it up. "This chain reflects every lie I ever told. Every lie resulted in one further link."

He dropped that chain and snatched up another. "This one added links every time I could have helped someone in need but instead chose not to."

Then he took hold of a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. "Thievery, Dark Magic and Spite," he said, dropping each chain in turn as he named them.

"And the ones with bones at the end?" asked Snape, for the one's Rosier had named so far had not had bones affixed to the end of the line.

"Murders," answered Rosier. "Every death by my hand left me with a chain of a thousand links each."

Snape looked down again and noticed that, in addition to the ones ending in the hand, the skull, the ribcage and the vertebral column, there were at least ten other chains ending in bones. Were he in the right mind to think about it, Snape would have agreed that fourteen murders while in the service of the Dark Lord sounded about right for Rosier.

"In death we are doomed, Severus. Doomed to wander the earth, dragging with us the chains we make in life. No one goes through life without creating a chain for themselves, but in some these chains are longer than others, while others still develop more chains than the rest. As you can see, I myself acquired a rather substantial collection despite only existing within the realm of the living for twenty one years."

Rosier picked up one of the chains and held it out towards Snape. "Only good deeds done can shrink the chains while we live. Once we are dead, we must suffer to reduce these lengths to nothing. One lunar cycle we must endure, one lunar cycle we must drag our chains, one lunar cycle we must see all that is wrong in the world and be unable to help. "

He raised the chain higher so that it was right in front of Snape's face. "One lunar cycle of suffering to remove one single link."

Snape blanched. Why, the chains for the murders alone condemned Rosier to fourteen thousand lunar cycles' worth of suffering. That equated to well over a thousand years. Together with the other chains, Snape would estimate that Rosier had accrued over fifteen hundred years of condemnation.

Unable to think of anything else to say, Snape went with a rather foolish sounding "Well, thank you for informing me."

Suddenly Rosier shot forward, forcing Snape to back up against the wall and turn his face in revulsion as the decaying face of his deceased friend invaded his personal space.

"You have accumulated your own chains as well Severus. On the night I died, your chains were of a similar length to mine. Imagine how much longer they must have become in the fifteen years since?"

"Why do you tell me this?" demanded Snape. "Do you seek to torture me?"

"I seek only to warn you Severus, and to help you."

"Help me?" spat Snape, incredulously. "Why would you help me?"

"There are higher powers at work, my friend. Powers of which I am not permitted to speak, powers that I am not at liberty to understand. They see the way that the world is going and do not like the look of the future. They see that you have a part to play in the forming of the future and seek to use you to nudge events in a more preferable direction."

"Why me?"

"Because of your position. Because of who you are, the man with a foot in two different camps, both of which have the potential to lead to a ruinous future."

Rosier drew back from Snape and continued "You were given a second chance, Severus. A chance to do what is right, and heal some of the hurt caused in the world, but you have not taken it. Instead you have squandered it in the service of a madman who sacrifices his followers in the name of a greater good that only he believes in, a man who would send ten thousand men to their deaths in order to keep a secret a secret."

Snape thought for a brief moment, and his thoughts landed on just one name.

"Dumbledore?"

"Your mind has become clouded, Severus. You do not see things as clearly as you once did. You need to see things. Things that were, things that are, things that may one day come to pass if things continue as they are."

"I have not the power to enable you to see what you need to see but there are others who can. Tonight you will be visited by three other spirits, spirits of the Christmas season. They will help you see."

"I'd rather not," replied Snape.

Suddenly Rosier's face became malicious. He made a swiping motion with his hand and a chain shot forward to latch itself around Snape's left forearm.

"You have no choice in this, Severus," the spectre snarled.

Snape wrenched his arm free and bolted for the door, even as other chains rose to strike him.

As Snape barrelled through the door of the living room, two chains lashed at his back while a third attempted without luck to coil around his torso.

Snape jerked out of the way of the reach of the chains and then turned to make for the front door, only to immediately halt at the sight before him. The entire hallway, from the spot where he was standing to the front door, was blocked by line after line of ethereal chains, all of which rattled threatening as a human shaped spectre rose out of the ground.

Snape recognised him immediately as Rosier's fallen comrade, Wilkes.

"These chains are heavy, Severus." spoke the newcomer. "Without redemption you are doomed to a suffering longer than ours."

Snape backed away, straight into a tangle of chains which tried to grab him.

"You have no choice in this, Severus," Rosier repeated as he drifted out of the living room door.

Snape undid the chord of his dressing gown and slipped his arms out of the sleeves. The chains quickly began coiling around the piece of clothing while Snape made for the stairs, two chains striking towards his feet.

As he began climbing the stairs Snape noticed two more spectres, these ones blocking the way to the kitchen and the cloakroom. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognised these men too; one was the father of Rosier and the other was the father of Avery, both of them were Death Eaters whom had been killed in action.

Now Snape had only one thing on his mind – get to his bedroom, find his wand and disapparate.

But he was already surrounded. At the top of the stairs he was met by the spectres of Barty Crouch Jr, Abraxas Malfoy and the father of the Lestrange brothers. He forced his way past them and turned onto the landing. At the far end he could make out the spirits of yet more deceased Death Eaters, Mulciber's father at their head.

Snape threw himself at the door to his bedroom and ran straight into a collection of chains and skeletal limbs, all of which began latching onto him, the chains wrapping around his limbs like pythons constricting their prey.

"Can you feel them, Severus?" asked Rosier as he and the other spectres entered the room. "Can you feel their weight? Can you feel the cold bite of metal against your skin?"

One chain had coiled itself so tightly around Snape's throat that a verbal response was impossible, forcing Snape to settle for giving a barely noticeable nod of his head.

"This is only a taste of what awaits you if you flee now," said Rosier. "Your chance, your hope of escaping a fate worse than ours is available to you only for tonight. Take that chance Severus, or end up like us."

Rosier drew back from Snape as the Death Eaters Snape had already seen, plus around twenty more crowded around. Snape looked upon them and knew fear. Each of them was bound with seemingly innumerable chains of great length. Each of them wore haunted and haggard expressions; they were all weary but doomed to not find peace for many hundreds of years to come.

"Will you meet with the spirits?"

Shakily Snape nodded and the chains around his throat eased up enough for him to mutter "I will."

All chains that had coiled around him went slack and fell to the floor with a mighty clatter before they and the spectres they were attached to began to fade out of sight.

"Expect the first spirit when the bell tolls one," explained Rosier. "Expect the second spirit when the bell tolls two. And expect the third when the bell tolls three."

They were gone.

Snape sank to his knees, trembling with fear, trying yet failing to pull himself together. He had never been more scared in his life.

Well, that's the start of it. I hope you enjoyed it. More should be on the way soon, though I do not yet know if the three spirits will take up one chapter or if there will be a chapter for each.

Merry Christmas!