The Severus Snape Advent Calendar, Take 12
Well, dear people of fanfiction, the views are down and while they have served well in past years to keep me motivated, they will not do that this year. So, if you want to keep me working, you will have to let me know via reviews that I'm not posting my little story for nothing.
Now let's see how Severus is today…
1
It was long before dawn on December the 1st, when a sleigh pulled by a small herd of magnificent reindeer landed on the front lawn of Hogwarts castle. An old man with a long white beard, dressed in a red suit lined with white fur, stepped down from the sleigh with surprising grace for a man of his age. He clicked his fingers and a sack of hey appeared in front of each reindeer.
"I'll be quick," he promised and walked up to the front doors of the castle. The doors recognised him immediately and admitted him into the castle. The man touched the ancient wood lovingly. He had known these doors when they had been shiny and new, about one thousand years ago.
"You is early this year," a house elf appeared out of nowhere and bowed until its nose touched the stone floor of the Entrance Hall.
"This is not my yearly visit," the old man said softly. "I have business with one of your professors."
Barely five minutes later, Severus Snape was startled out of his sleep when somebody touched his shoulder.
"Albus!" he snarled angrily. Couldn't that man leave him be?
The old man in the red suit giggled. "Now, now, Severus, don't accuse poor Albus!"
Snape was wide awake in an instant. He knelt on his mattress, wand in hand, pointing said wand at the stranger. "Santa!" he cried a moment later. He lowered his wand. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"We both know that it takes much, much more to scare you," chuckled Santa Claus.
"To what do I owe your visit?" asked Snape. He had met Santa a couple of times but never had the man paid him a personal visit, let alone when it was not Christmas!
"Ah, good man. Straight to the point," praised Santa. "I'm here to tell you that I will gift Hogwarts another December entertainment. We are going to play Snape in a Cape."
"What?" the potions master raised his wand again.
"I have invented a little spell," Santa continued to explain, "which will turn you into a small puppet every day. Whoever finds your hiding place will get a present. Once you are found, you will return to your usual form."
"Very funny!" Snape raged. "I am their most hated teacher. I teach their most difficult subject. I will stay in puppet form until Christmas! And the children will stay untaught."
"Don't fret, my young friend," Santa chuckled. "I thought of everything. If they don't find you before your first lesson begins, you will be turned back and the day's present will be lost."
"I don't have lessons on weekends," Snape pointed out.
"The weekend deadline is lunchtime. If you wish to be turned back immediately, your safe word is sun screen. Just think it and you will be returned to your usual form. If you manage to not use it until the 24th, there will be an extra present for you," Santa informed him and before the potions master could say another word, the old man cast a spell on him and vanished into thin air.
The spell must have been faulty because Snape had not changed into a puppet. He shrugged and went back to sleep.
When he woke a couple of hours later, he almost lost his balance – or he would have, had he been able to move. He was sitting on one of the rafters in the Great Hall and beneath him were the students and faculty of Hogwarts enjoying breakfast. He was definitely a lot smaller than normal, or the rafter would have been too narrow for him to sit on.
An ornate roll of parchment appeared beside the headmaster's plate when the meal was almost over. Dumbledore broke the fir green wax seal and read the message. As he read, a beaming smile appeared on his face. At last he stood and asked for the students' attention.
"We got a letter from Santa," he informed and then waited until the excited whispers of "another advent calendar" had died down. "Dear boys and girls, witches and wizards," he read out, "this year I do not have a calendar for you. Instead, you are going to play Snape in a Cape."
A lot of questions were asked in hushed voices and some students who knew about muggle life, explained what an Elf on a Shelf was.
"Your potions master," Albus Dumbledore continued, unimpressed by the whispers, "will be turned into a puppet every morning and you have to find him before your first lesson starts. The first person to spot him and call him Snape in a Cape will get a present. Have fun, Santa"
"He can't be far," cried Harry Potter. "It's almost time for the lesson. I bet he is in the Great Hall."
"I see him!" cried Draco Malfoy. "Snape in a Cape!" he pointed up at the rafters and the potions master was returned to his usual form. He just managed to hold onto the rafter.
"Help me down," the potions master cried.
"Give me my present first," replied the younger Slytherin.
"Definitely not," snarled Snape.
"Are you a wizard, or what," cried the Malfoy heir. "Just conjure a broomstick."
"Broomsticks are delicate magical devices. You can't just conjure them." Snape seethed.
"We are not talking about a high performance broomstick." Draco Malfoy waved his wand and a broomstick appeared before the potions master.
"How do I know this is safe?" asked Snape.
"I will catch you, Severus," Dumbledore promised.
It took a while of coaxing but in the end, Snape used the conjured broom to return to the ground. "Your present," he spat at Draco. It had appeared in his pocket the moment he was turned back into a wizard.
Draco beamed as he received the ornate green parcel. He made a show of unwrapping it and finally discovered a luxurious quill.
"Is that a phoenix feather?" Hagrid cried excitedly.
Dumbledore stood and walked to the Slytherin table. "It is, Hagrid. You must be very careful with this quill, Mr Malfoy. Phoenix feather quills are very powerful. When you use this, your words will be like poetry without you even trying. You should keep it for when you wish to woe your witch."
"Oh, Draco," simpered Pansy Parkinson, "I'd love to receive a phoenix feather letter from you. Not that I think you need a special quill to talk with the voice of angels."
Around the Great Hall, people made retching noises. Draco looked angry but before he could say anything, the headmaster reminded the students that their first lessons were due to start in a minute and tardiness was not going to go unpunished.