A Very Harry Christmas

Chapter One: A Christmas Carol

Note: I'm not smart enough to come up with this shit on my own. A Christmas Carol is Dickens' idea.

            There was not a holiday around Severus Snape detested more than Christmas. It was absolutely despicable. The way the Great Hall was so defaced with baubles and holly and mistletoe and garland… shameful, really. Those Gryffindor prats seemed to each think they were Jesus, the know-it-all Ravenclaws acted as though they were descended from the wise men themselves, and the Hufflepuffs were no better than common shepherds.

            Everyone was singing. Not even pleasant, parodying versions of songs that involved snow turning red. Everything was innocent, and those goddamned first years were waiting with wide eyes the arrival of Santy Clause.

            Severus hated Christmas, and it was apparent from his scowl as the Slytherin male trudged his way down the hallways. It was the sort of scowl that turned milk sour and terrified innocent children, not to mention the sort of scowl that resembled Michael Jackson, but at the moment Severus really didn't care. Christmas was a fool's holiday, and anyone should be able to see that from the fools celebrating it.

            Speaking of fools…

            "You look like you're having a peachy time, Snivellus."

            That dreaded voice. While all the Gryffindorks were acting rather like the reincarnation of the son of God, James Potter did it all the time. Oh, how tempting it was to gore his eyes out with the fake antlers placed atop his irritatingly scruffy head…

            Well-wishes aside, Snape turned the scowl on the long-since nemesis.

            "Isn't there some mudbloods beneath mistletoe you should be molesting, Potter?"

            The arrogant smirk turned colder. "What is it, Snivvy? Heart two sizes too small to enjoy the holidays?"

            "Rather I think my brain's just two sizes too big."

            "Now, now," came another voice, whom Severus noted with great distaste belonged to none other than Sirius Black, "if anything's two sizes too big, Jamie, it's his nose."

            "Point taken," James agreed with a look of feigned concentration as he nodded.

            Severus was spared from perhaps infinite taunting, however, as the only person to ever come to his defense did what she did best; come to his defense.

            "James! Sirius!" the girl chided, tossing some of her rather festive hair over her shoulder. "I'm sure he'll have a much more pleasant Christmas without the two of you."

            To this Severus rolled his eyes. The concept of a happy Christmas, with or without Black and Potter, was quite far from his grasp, really. He didn't want one. A happy Christmas entailed turkey and festivities and lights and trees; if anything Severus wanted to move away from it all. Christmas – a waste of time!

            "Aw, Lily," James objected, plastering on an innocent smile. "We were merely trying to get Severus in the Christmas spirit!"

            Severus had fallen silent by this time, eyes rolling heavenward as he turned to leave. Best to slink away while mildly unharmed before letting them attack a corpse and poke out it's eyeballs. It would seem, however, that fate was not that kind to Severus.

            "You're in the Christmas spirit, aren't you, Severus?" Lily asked.

            Severus stared at her incredulously.

            "If you're asking whether I'm frolicking around like a regular idiot, singing carols at the top of my lungs or stuffing stockings, then no, I'd have to say I'm not."

            To this, Lily looked mildly surprised. James rolled his eyes – the reaction had been anticipated. Sirius shook his head.

            "Surely you don't have anything against the holiday?"

            Honestly, that girl could be thick. And so Severus put it the best way he could think of:

            "Bah humbug."

---

            It was Christmas Eve already, as much a Severus hated to admit it. Christmas Eve meant Christmas morning which meant all that insanity he so abhorred. The noise, noise, noise, noise! Okay, wrong parody.

            And so he was sleeping alone in his Slytherin like dorm, because all the other Slytherins in seventh year with him had gone home for the holidays. He wasn't sure what was better; spending Christmas at home with his grandmother fretting and rocking in her chair incessantly or spending Christmas at school with Dumbledore being just as bad, not to mention the first years.

            But here he was, and so he fully intended to get some sleep.

            Unfortunately for Snape, though, the deities had other ideas. It was probably only twelve that night when someone began calling his name.

            "Snape?"

            Severus, of course, being asleep, did not respond.

            "Snape?" tried the voice again.

            And Severus slept on.

            "Snape? For the love of god, man, wake up!"

            Still he slept.

            A large cowbell connected with the side of Severus Snape's head, causing him to sit upright in the bed suddenly.

            "What? What the hell?"

            "It's about bloody time!" complained the disembodied voice.

            "…Pettigrew? Is that you?"

            "Er, no."

            "But it sounds just like—"

            "Shut up!" cried the voice, clearly displeased. "You're ruining the spooky affect. Spooky. Spoooky."

            "What the fuck, Pettigrew? Can you just—"

            "I am not Pettigrew!" the voice insisted, wavering in an obvious attempt to appear mysterious. "Do not question me! I am simply here to inform you that tonight you will be visited by…" the voice paused for a second, "…three! Yes, that's it, I forgot, Remus' at home. Three! Ghosts."

            "Three ghosts? Remus' at home? What the—"

            "Each one will appear at the sound of a bell, and each one has a very valuable lesson to teach you, Snape, so watch carefully," the voice insisted, sounding firmer now. "Now, I seem to have misplaced my cowbell."

            Severus glanced at the cowbell on his lap and rubbed the welt on the side of his head. "You threw it at me, you prat!"

            "Oh, so I did," came the voice. "Well, would you mind ringing it for me?"

            "I don't see how—"

            "Do it!"

            And so Severus run the bell. There was no immediate rush of wind. No climatic music or sudden thrill of adrenaline, or anything in general.

            Until something blunt and heavy hit Severus over the back of the head and he was knocked out.

--

            When Severus awoke once more he was quite sure he was not  in the dorms any longer. Where he was, he was not entirely sure – but wherever it was it was cold, snowy, and he was outside.

            Damnit.

            "Get up!" came a gruff voice from behind him, and a sharp kick in the back. "Get up, damnit!"

            With a groan Severus rolled onto his back only to find himself staring up at a most peculiarly outfitted being. He was dressed in cloaks of all white – if it were not for the tanned complexion, the dark black hair and rather handsome appearance, Severus may have wondered briefly if it were infact Jesus, or perhaps an Elvis wannabe. In truth, Severus thought, it rather resembled Sirius Black meets Jesus Christ meets Elvis Presley meets Madonna.

            Don't ask how Madonna fit in there.

            "Black? What the hell? First Pettigrew, now you? What the hell do the lot of you—"

            "Shut up, Cinderblock!" the figure barked sharply, kicking out at the Slytherin who rolled out of the way. "I kindly ask you not to refer to me as 'black', you psychotic racist."

            "But—"

            "Shut up! I'm running the show here, after all, I'm…"

            "Yes, who exactly are you?"

            "The Ghost of Christmas Past."

            There was an entire beat during which Severus simply stared at the other incredulously.

            Before bursting out laughing.

            "Amusing, Black, really, top marks for your creativity and the get-up, which by the way makes you vaguely resemble Jesus, but—"

            "Do you ever shut up? Don't make me flex my demi-god-like skills!"

            Severus persisted.

            "For one thing, Black, there are real ghosts, and you certainly aren't—"

            And then, quite suddenly, Severus was backed up against the wall of the closest building, with the 'Ghost of Christmas Past's hands clenched around his cloak collar.

            "Listen," the white-swathed figure hissed, "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past and if you say otherwise I will beat your Scrooge-like ass so shut the hell up."

            Now that, children, is spreading Christmas cheer.

            Perhaps it was years of experience that made Severus decide not to question Christmas Past this time; perhaps it was because his wand was back in the dormitories, wherever that might be, and Christmas Past was much larger than him.

            "Alright then, Ghost of Christmas Past," Snape hissed with well hidden sarcasm, "What would you like me to call you? I'm afraid 'Ghost of Christmas Past' is rather tiresome."

            Releasing his grip on the Slytherin, the man in white took on a pensive look.

            "Call me… Archibald."

            Severus shook his head, although Archibald looked rather proud of himself. Straightening, Archibald took hold of Severus' collar once more in order to lead him down the street.

            "So, Sevvie, any of this ring a bell?"

            "No."

            In truth it did. The only thing mildly unnerving about any of this was the fact that the street they were on currently resembled the one where Severus' house had been – when he was five. It was coincidence, he decided; how would Sir—er, Archibald, know where he'd lived as a kid? Sharing 'fond' childhood memories wasn't something Severus did, well, ever.

            "Then I suppose this won't look familiar?"

            And suddenly Severus found his face pressed up against a pane of glass, pain shooting through his unusually long, uncomfortably bent nose.

            Inside the house at which he was gazing, however, things were more interesting. There was a large, tall Christmas tree in the corner of the room; it was decorated most elaborately, and as they watched it seemed the woman present was adding to the decorations. A rather severe looking and markedly old man sat in a rocking chair in the corner, eyeing the woman with something of distaste as she strung more popcorn onto the tree.

            And in the corner was  a five-year-old Severus Snape, ramming two toy trains together destructively.

            "Awww! You were even ugly as a kid!"

            To this Snape glared for a moment, although he found his attention was focused keenly on the people in the room once more. It was like watching a pensive, he thought suddenly. He suddenly doubted that if he were to beat on the window as hard as possible the people inside – his family – would notice.

            Weird. It was like watching a muggle movie.

            "Closer look!" Archibald announced, grabbing Severus' collar once more and dragging him towards the front door.

            "We're not going in there!" Severus objected, although it was in vain as the next second he was thrust through the door by Archibald, and found himself in something of a heap in the hallway.  Archibald stepped over him and into the house, and as Severus collected himself once more and rose to his feet, Archibald beckoned for him to follow.

            "Laerenev!" called the woman suddenly, not halting her decorating. "I think I'm going to take Poopsie—"

            Insert snort from Archibald here.

            "—to the mall to see Santa, alright?"

            There was an indistinct grunt from Laerenev.

            "I don't trust those mall Santa's, Sepreh," the man chortled. "They're all pedophiles."

            "Larry!"

            "It's true, Sepreh. You don't know who you can trust nowadays… Severus will be much happier if he spends Christmas eve at his own house."

            It was clear Sepreh Snape was not the type of person who took no for an answer. By the time Laerenev had finished his speech the woman had risen, taken five-year-old Severus' little hand in her own and was leading him to the coat rack.

            "We aren't following them," seventeen year old Severus informed suddenly, sending a sharp glance in Archibald's direction.

            "Oh, I beg to differ," Archibald countered, grinning as he made to follow Sepreh and the toddler out the door.

            "No. Absolutely not."

            Archibald sent Severus a curious glance, as if he was mildly surprised the boy dared question his mighty authority. Outside, Sepreh and Poopsie were beginning to sing Christmas carols. From the look of abhorrence on the elder Severus' face, and the merry sound in the younger one's voice, it would have been challenging to place them as the same person.

            "We're following them, Poopsie, whether you like it or not."

            And suddenly Severus was being dragged down the driveway to follow his five year old self.
           

--

            Severus trailed after his mother, stumbling along in the crowds to keep his hand firmly interlocked with hers. Christmas meant so many people… Severus wasn't quite sure what to think. There were people everywhere, now. Why were stores open? It was Christmas Eve. Everyone wanted to make that last dollar that badly?

            People had bags and little, crying children, but Severus pretended not to notice. He pretended not to notice as that large woman stepped on his foot and didn't say sorry or as that little girl next to him cut in front of he and his mom in the line to see Santa. He didn't care. He wanted to see Santa. He'd been a good boy.

            He wondered why Santa was at the mall when he must have had so much work to do. Traveling the world by floo powder would take a while, let alone on a sleigh drawn by flying reindeer.

           

            "Remember to tell Santa what you want," Severus' mum advised, grinning. "I don't think it'll be too late for any last minute changes."

            A few minutes of waiting in line and Severus found himself on Santa's lap.

            "Hello, little boy!" proclaimed Santa. Severus noted he lacked the standard British accent, and sounded rather Hispanic. "What would you like for Christmas?"

            Severus brightened instantly, clearly having sunk a lot of thought into this in the past. "A pony!" he proclaimed brightly, and the eight year old boy next in line raised an eyebrow. "A pony, and a choo-choo train, and world peace!"


            Santa nodded distractedly, patting Severus on the head. "Right. One leather whip it is. Now go home!"

            Obediently, Severus slipped off Santa's lap, slipped his hand into his mother's once again, and the two of them were on their way.

            Snow was falling peacefully, dusting the ground and outside scenery with a lovely splash of white. It was like a picture-perfect Christmas Eve, really, everything falling conveniently into place. If only it were black and white, it may well have fit into It's a Wonderful Life.

            Severus and his mother were walking to the car when Severus noticed something moving behind the dumpster.

            "Mum! Mummy, look, it's Santa!"
           

            Indeed it was. The Santa from the mall was behind the dumpster, and upon being spotted he shoved a plastic baggie into one pocket quickly.

            "Santa!" exclaimed Severus.

            "Poopsie, don't go see—Severus!"

            And so his mother was chasing after him. Upon spotting Severus' mother, Santa took on a look quite foreign to large, friendly Hispanic men in red velvet – it was a look of sheer malice. With surprising speed for Father Christmas, the Santa reached past Severus' head, grabbed his mother's wrist and dragged her sharply forward.

            Severus' innocent, child-like eyes only widened in horror.

--

            "Aww!" declared Archibald at the end of the flashback, as suddenly the scene seemed to vanish from around he and the elder Severus. Severus looked simply murderous.

            "Now you see why you loved Christmas, don't you?" asked Archibald as he raised both eyebrows and nodded in  a very 'told you so' way.

            "No!" Severus exclaimed loudly. "I most certainly don't! I watched my mother be raped behind a dumpster by a Mall Santa then beaten to death with a Christmas Tree from the trash! It was horrible!"

            Archibald simply shrugged.

            "Hey, well, whatever. I tried. There's still two ghosts to go."

            And with a snap of his fingers, he and the past-scene were gone, and Severus was suddenly in the Slytherin boy's dormitories once more.

To Be Continued!