December 24, 1987:

Severus gave the pot of hot spiced apple cider (non-alcoholic, of course) a stir before setting it to simmer. He sniffed the aroma of cloves and pressed apples and cinnamon in sheer delight before setting aside his spoon. All would be ready for the simple Christmas Eve dinner the Prince and Snape family would have, along with Harry’s two best friends, Blaise and Neville, that evening. It was nearing five o’clock, and the table was set and the wizard crackers placed at each table setting, the candles lit in the silver sconces on either side of the centerpiece of poinsettias and pine boughs in the middle of the table. All the greenery came from carefully harvested plants on the estate and the apples from the orchard, picked by Hotspur, who was also the defacto gardener and steward.

Severus had learned how to make the spiced cider from his mother Eileen, who had learned from Drusilla, and she from her mother, Penelope. He made it every Christmas Eve, as had been the tradition in the family, though when Drusilla died, the holiday had remained ciderless, since even Lina didn’t know the traditional recipe.

When Severus had first started making it, several years ago, about the second Christmas they had spent at Foxfire Hall, Augustus had been moved to near tears. He had said the scent reminded him of Drusilla especially. And the taste . . .well there was nothing like the old family recipe. It also had a dash of nutmeg and vanilla in it, plus a secret ingredient only Severus knew about. Perhaps one day he would pass the recipe down to Harry, so it did not die with him.

All of the biscuit tins were full of shortbreads and almond bars, marzipan logs, gingerbread, pecan balls, and chocolate snaps. Lina and Harry had outdone themselves this year.

Once they had eaten, Severus would take the children on a brief caroling round, through Diagon Alley and the nearby wizarding residences in the London outskirts. Many pureblood families had more than one residence, usually they had a family estate and also a town home. The Princes had once had a town home as well, until Augustus sold it after Drusilla died. He had not wanted to keep it, as he no longer considered the London wizarding social scene desirable. Severus thought it was because a part of the old wizard’s heart had died along with Drusilla Stormbringer.

But since Severus and Harry had come into his life, Augustus had rediscovered joy and comfort again and now looked forward to the holiday season each year, instead of dreading it. And Severus did his best to make each holiday season a good and memorable one. He now had a photo album full of snapshots of Harry as he grew, some with him and some with Augustus and the elves. Recently, the album also contained pictures of the “Troublesome Trio” as Snape had nicknamed Blaise, Harry, and Neville. Scapegraces all, well . . .except for Augusta’s grandson, who was the voice of reason among them.

Lina had almost finished cooking the roast beef and scalloped potatoes and the green beans almondine plus a lovely fruit tart for a sweet. In a few minutes, Hotspur went and called the boys and Augustus into the dining room. During dinner, Severus noticed that Augustus was quiet and had a raspy cough. He barely ate his dinner.

“Grandfather, are you feeling well?” Severus asked, concerned.

“I . . .cough,cough . . .seem to have developed a bit of a . . .chest cold.” He then sneezed into an embroidered handkerchief. “Everything tastes rather bland, like sawdust.” He made a face at his plate.

“Perhaps you had better go and lie down. I don’t like the sound of that cough,” Severus said, and summoned several potions with a few sharp snaps of his fingers.

“I’m fine, Severus. No need to feed me any of your concoctions,” Augustus protested, but then he ruined his lord-of-the-manor air by coughing and wheezing.

“Nonsense, Grandfather. You are clearly ill,” Severus argued, waving his wand in a diagnostic pattern over him. “You have a severe upper respiratory infection and a mild fever. You should be in bed.”

“I’m not an invalid,” said Augustus testily. “I can nap in front of the fire.” He glared at his grandson mutinously.

Before Severus could answer, Lina popped in and gave her beloved master a sharp frown. “Milord, you are needing a long rest and some of my infused chicken broth and a hot water bottle with a flannel.”

The lord of Foxfire Hall gaped at her, astounded. The three little boys watching smothered giggles behind their hands to see a grown-up acting so cantankerously.

“Lina, quit acting like my mother,” said Augustus.

“Of course, milord,” the elf said sweetly. “I shall when you quit acting like the young master.”

“Come, Grandfather, and take these for me,” Severus coaxed the sputtering old magus. He gave him a Decongestion Elixir, Extra Strength, a Pepperup Potion, and a Fever Reducer.

Augustus swallowed all of them, grimacing. Then he allowed Severus and Lina to coax him up the stairs and into bed, grumbling all the way.

They got him into his nightclothes and Lina summoned a hot water bottle wrapped in a soft flannel for his feet while Severus cast a minor Warming charm upon the sheets. Lina left him a bowl of her broth upon the nightstand, which had a convenient wooden pullout tray and Severus placed a glass of cool water with a straw next to it and a mug of his special cider.

Augustus slid beneath the covers, harrumphing, as Lina tucked him in. “There, milord! All warm and snug as an elf wrapped up in a cashmere scarf with a mug of hot cocoa. Call me if you need anything else, milord!” Then she vanished, going to clear away the plates from dinner.

“Is there anything else you need, Grandfather?” asked Severus. “Some reading material?”

“No, Severus. I’m just going to rest a little. You slipped me a Sleeping Draught, didn’t you, you sly fox?”

“A very mild one,” his grandson admitted shamelessly.

“Have a good time caroling. Pity I can’t accompany you,” the Elemental Master said, then he coughed. “Once upon a time, I used to have quite a good voice . . .” he trailed off, yawning.

One thing I haven’t inherited from you, Severus thought fondly as he slipped from the room. The only reason he was going caroling was to make sure his son and his friends didn’t get into any mischief and protect them from depraved people.

* * * * *

Ten minutes later they had Flooed into Diagon Alley, all bundled up warmly in their best hats, coats, and gloves, carrying small personal thermos’ filled with spiced cider. Severus suggested they start with the shops first and then work their way out to the residences. Traditionally, the group of carolers were welcomed by giving them small gifts of sweets or a cup of cocoa or tea, or brandy if the carolers were adults. Many of the shopkeepers kept the door ajar so the carolers could come and stand in the entryway and sing out of the wind and snow.

It had snowed lightly the night before and it was crisp and cool, a clear night where you could see the stars gleaming brightly overhead. Severus glanced up to see if he could find the single bright star that had led him six years before, to an unwanted baby in a manger. He spotted it almost immediately, shining down, and he smiled to himself. On that Christmas Eve he had received the greatest gift of all and had given one as well.

“Hello, Tom,” he greeted the barkeep of the Leaky Cauldron.

“’ello, Mr. Snape.” Tom greeted cheerily. “Gonna have yer lads sing for their suppers again?”

“No, ‘cause we already ate supper,” Blaise piped up.

“Oh? Would ye sing for a new sweet then? Got a bunch of those newfangled color-changing candy canes,” Tom offered.

“Yeah, we’ll sing for those, sir!” Harry agreed. He loved all kinds of candy.

“Do you have any requests?” asked Severus politely.

Tom thought, and while he was trying to decide, the boys warmed themselves by the fire and sipped their cider to warm up their throats. There were several patrons sitting and drinking and eating who looked at the little group with indulgent eager smiles.

“How about Deck the Halls?” suggested the barkeep. “That’s always a good one!”

So the boys began to sing the old carol lustily, their sweet voices rising up through the air in perfect harmony. Of the three, it was shy Neville who had the truest pitch and tone, he was a beautiful soprano. Blaise and Harry were good as well, their range was somewhere in the middle.

The little group sang “Deck the Halls”, “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”, “Silent Night”, and “Winter Wonderland”.

All the patrons clapped and stamped their feet and some even sang along. Once they were through, Tom clapped and said, “Let’s give a hand to Potions Master Snape and his Terrific Trio!”

Everyone cheered and hooted and Tom handed each boy a large rainbow striped candy cane. “Here you go, boys. Changes color with every lick. Have a Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, sir!” chorused the three.

“And?” Severus reminded.

“Thank you for the candy cane,” Neville said obediently and was echoed by Blaise and Harry.

Then they moved on to Slug and Jigger’s Apothecary, where they sang six songs for Sandra Miska, who was the proprietor of the shop now that her uncle had passed on.

“Won’t you sing a round, Severus?” she queried, semi-flirtatiously, she was only two years his senior.

“No, thank you, Sandra,” he demurred quickly. “I’ll spare your ears and me the embarrassment.”

“Oh, but I’m sure you have a fine voice,” she purred. “What if I gave you a Christmas discount?”

“Trust me, you don’t want me to sing.”

“Twenty percent off the next time you come in?” she bargained shrewdly.

He considered. “Thirty-five percent.”

“Thirty.” She countered.

“Done. And I pick the song,” he added, for no way would he allow her to pick the song, which would probably be some sickeningly sweet Christmas song that he hated. He held out his hand to shake. “You bargain almost as well as a Slytherin, madam.”

“Well, I almost was. But at the last minute, the Hat put me in Ravenclaw instead.” She grinned at him. “So . . .serenade me, Mr. Snape.”

“Papa, what are we singing now?” asked Harry. He really wanted to move on to Quality Quidditch Supplies to see the new brooms.

“O Holy Night,” Severus answered, it was the only carol he felt his range would be halfway decent at. Plus, a bargain was a bargain and thirty percent off potions ingredients was nothing to sneer at.

He gestured at his son and friends to begin, and they started off singing in their childish sopranos.

He gathered himself, and did three deep breaths, focusing, then he began to sing. “O holy night, the stars are brightly shining . . .”

His deep baritone flowed silkily over and around the childrens’, buttressing it and making the apothecary witch go all misty eyed with longing.

Can’t sing, my left eye! If only he’d sing a few more songs, just for me, in private, I would discount my whole stock, by Merlin’s pants! Oh, how I envy his wife, whoever she is! Sandra thought longingly.

They finished the carol and the witch gave them double chocolate bars and mugs of warmed honeyed milk with a dash of cinnamon atop it. Severus thanked her and said he would stop by soon to get his discounted ingredients.

“Wait! Let me take a picture,” she cried, and summoned her camera. So I have something of you to look at tonight, all alone in my bed, she thought with a wicked smile. Pity I’ll never get what I really want for Christmas. She snapped his picture and the children’s. One she gave to him and the other, which was more of a close up, she tucked in her pocket. Dreams were harmless and cost nothing, and this was one of her better ones.

Then the kids began to race down the street to Quality Quidditch Supplies, and she called after Snape, “Goodbye, Severus. Come back soon!”

They moved down the row of stores, singing all different sorts of carols, Severus a watchful presence in the background.

* * * * * *

Back at Foxfire Hall, Augustus woke, feeling marginally better. He drank the broth Lina had left and also the cider, went to use the bathroom, then decided to look at the photo album Severus had put together of all the Christmases they’d shared. He enjoyed looking at how Harry had grown from a round little baby just toddling to the happy little boy he was now, with the owl spectacles and the crazy cowlick.

Mystic stared at him as he put a finger to his lips and sneaked out of the room. Then he sneezed and curled up into a ball in the spot Augustus had vacated.

“Hedonist,” his master chuckled. Then he tiptoed out of the room and into Severus’, where he found the album lying on the other’s desk, with some new pictures the Potions Master had added yesterday. As he picked it up, a newspaper clipping fell to the floor.

Augustus bent to pick it up, supposing it was an article about potions. Instead he found the old article in the Prophet about the missing Boy Who Lived. Augustus cocked his head. Now why would Severus save that? He turned to set it on the desk and found another, older clipping about the deaths of the Potter family and their child’s survival. Frowning, the Elemental Master shoved the clippings into the album and walked quickly back to his bed, not wanting Lina to come up and throw a fit at finding him out of bed.

He nudged Mystic over and settled back under the covers, resting his feet upon the now lukewarm waterbottle, which he heated with a silent charm. Then he began to read the two articles, trying to figure out why Severus would have saved them. He looked again at the newspaper photos and then paged through the pictures of Harry at seventeen months, two, three, four, and so on.

The niggling little voice in the back of his head awoke and began whispering that it was so very odd that his great-grandson and the Boy Who Lived looked alike. They even had the same name. Only one bore the Dark Lord’s mark and the other did not. One had lived to grow up to seven and the other had been stolen away at age three and could be dead. Was probably dead. And yet . . .and yet . . .there was something coincidental here.

Severus’ wife was named Lily, and so was Harry Potter’s mother. They both had red hair and green eyes. Coincidence? I suppose I could be making something out of nothing, I am rather feverish, but . . .she died at the same time as they did. What if . . .what if he had an affair with Lily Potter? And the child was his and not James Potter’s? What if that Petunia woman found out and gave the child to him and then made up all that other stuff as a smokescreen? Or perhaps he discovered the child wasn’t being taken care of properly by the aunt and uncle and he stole him away? No, that’s ridiculous. My grandson is no thief, and he did not have the air of one who is running from the law. I know the signs. So it could be the other possibility. Still, why not tell me so? I would not have condemned him because of it. It’s plain that he loved her, her death haunts him still.

He studied the pictures again. The scar, what had happened to the scar? He pondered that for a few minutes, then he recalled the potion Severus had brewed the first few months he had begun working for Prince Labs. The Scar Remover. Could it have worked upon a magical scar? Or was he just being fanciful? Is that your secret, Severus? That my great-grandson is the Boy Who Lived?

It seemed very farfetched, and yet at the same time it almost made sense. He had checked the Archives over at the Ministry one day and found no listing for a Lily Snape, nor any record of Severus’ marriage ceremony. Unless he had married in the Muggle manner, or . . .hadn’t been married at all.

He quickly shoved the clippings back inside the album and went to drink some water, his throat was parched. Then he coughed.

Lina appeared with a pop in the room. “Milord Augustus, you need some more potions,” she urged, handing him another Decongestion Elixir. “Master Sev told me to make sure you took this.”

Augustus groaned. “He fusses worse than my mother, blast it,” he growled, taking the vial. “And so do you!”

Lina snorted, unfazed by his grumbling. His temper was only truly dangerous when defending those he loved from danger, otherwise his bark was worse than his bite.

Too late, Augustus remembered how Severus had laced one of his potions with a Sleeping Draught. He found himself sinking into the gray realm of sleep, and all of his thoughts scattered.

Lina gently took the photo album and placed it back on Severus’ desk, where it belonged. Mystic curled up against the old wizard’s side, a purr rumbling throughout his aged body as he too slept.

And all was quiet for the moment on this Christmas Eve.

* * * * * *

By the time they had made their way around the shops in Diagon Alley, the kids were stuffed full of hot drinks, fizzy drinks, and cakes and comfits. The last two shops, Severus had waved away the sweets and drinks, claiming they had had more than enough for one night. Any more and I’ll have to give all of them a Stomach Soother when we get back home.

The boys were slightly ahead of him, going past the sign which read Knockturn Alley.

Blaise turned and looked challengingly at Harry. “I dare you to go down there and touch a shop door.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not stupid, Blaise. Papa will ground my arse if I set foot down there.”

“My gran always said she’d skin me if she ever caught me going into there,” Neville said with a shudder. “She says that’s where all the unsavory criminals and dark wizards hang out, to do illegal trades in dark magic stuff. Why would you want to go in there?”

Blaise shrugged. “Just to see what it’s like, is all. And ‘cause I like to scare myself silly.”

Neville shook his head. “Bet you’d be scared, all right, if your parents ever found out you went in there.”

Unknown to the three, Lucius Malfoy and his son, Draco, were coming out of Borgin and Burkes as the three boys loitered at the mouth of Knockturn Alley. Draco looked at the three curiously.

Just then Snape appeared and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Come along, son. No need to dawdle here, nothing but trouble down that road.” He herded Harry and his two friends away down the street. “Last stop, Ollivanders.”

Lucius scowled. Snape! We meet again, only this time there is no one to stop me from taking my revenge upon you for your humiliation of me that time when I went to get that Quidditch figure at Quality Quidditch Supplies. You made my son very unhappy, Snape. Now it’s my turn to make yours unhappy. His lip curled up.

“Draco, run and ask those three children, they look about your age, if they’d like to come and sing at our house.”

Draco looked up at his father, puzzled, his blond hair pressed to his forehead by his earmuffs. “But Father, you said you hate Christmas carolers. That they’re beggars and annoyances.”

“And so they are. But I have . . .a debt to settle with my old schoolmate that just went by. Now go, Draco, and extend our invitation.” He gave the boy a gentle shove.

Draco obediently ran down the alley and cut through a small shop’s back alley in order to get to Ollivanders before them.

When Harry came into sight, Draco was leaning against the side of the wandmaker’s shop. “Hello. I heard you do private performances. I have an invitation from my father for you to sing at our house.”

“Who are you and where’s your house?” Harry asked.

“It’s the biggest house on King’s Way, just outside Diagon Alley,” Draco explained loftily. “I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“Harry Snape,” Harry introduced himself. “These are my friends, Neville Longbottom and Blaise Zabini.”

The other boys gave Draco cordial nods.

“We’ll be there. Does your house have any distinguishing features?”

Draco snorted. “I just told you, it’s the biggest one, you can’t miss it. Trust me.” Then he darted away up the street.

Neville licked his lips. “I wonder what they serve for sweets? The Malfoys are an old family.”

“Yeah, an old family with a few dark members,” Blaise said. “Least that’s what my papa says.”

Harry shrugged. Draco hadn’t seemed that bad. A little bit stuck up, but that was all. “Maybe they could use some Christmas cheer.”

Suddenly, a group of redheaded children appeared around a corner, there were four of them, two who looked identical, except for their different colored jumpers, one had on a maroon one sporting a yellow F and the other was wearing green with an orange G. They were wearing red and gold scarves and laughing at their younger brother, who had half an ice cream cone. He was a skinny redhead in a patched coat and a blue scarf. He looked to be about Harry’s age. There was a taller one bringing up the rear, he looked bored out of his mind.

“All right, you can have one peek in the window, Ron, and then we go find Mum before she buys out half the secondhand yarn in the place.” The elder redhead was saying in a patronizing tone.

“Fine, Percy.” Ron replied, licking the rest of his cone. It was only a half a scoop of cherry vanilla, but any ice cream was a treat in his family.

“Hi!” he said upon seeing the three standing beside the shop. “Are you here to see it too?”

“See what?” asked Blaise.

Ron lowered his voice. “They say . . .Ollivander has You-Know-Who’s wand somewhere in there. Nicked it from the wreckage in Godric’s Hollow. Or one of his followers sold it to him and told him to keep it safe and he didn’t dare refuse.”

Neville’s eyes went wide. “Honest?”

Harry looked skeptical. “He would never want something like that. The Aurors would arrest him for contraband.”

“How do you know that, kid?” asked Fred.

“My grandpa used to be an Auror, that’s how. Augustus Prince.”

George whistled and even Percy looked impressed. “He’s famous, old man Prince is. Killed a bunch of Grindelwald’s top wizards in his time. What’s your name?”

“I’m Harry Snape. Actually, he’s my great-grandfather. My papa’s his grandson, Severus Snape.”

“He’s the Potions Master who’s won every award in the country,” said Percy.

“That’s my papa,” Harry said proudly.

“And isn’t he—”

“—the same Snape that helped Mum that time when she was waiting on line to get Charlie that Wronski figure? He knocked some bloke who tried to cut her on line into next week.” George finished.

“Yup, that’s him. Matter of fact, here he comes now.” Harry pointed to the tall figure wearing the black cloak and silver and green striped scarf coming down the street.

“Now we can start on our last set, thank Merlin,” Blaise said in relieved tones. “I was thinking I was becoming an icicle.” He stamped his boots meaningfully.

“What do you mean?” asked Ron curiously.

“We’re going about singing Christmas carols,” Harry explained. “It was Blaise’s idea. His family does it all the time. It’s great fun.”

“We’ve sung for all the shopkeepers here at Diagon Alley,” Neville said shyly. “And they’ve all given us treats.”

“Like what?” asked Ron wistfully. He usually only got mince pies and three pieces of candy and an orange at Christmas time.

“Hot cocoa and cider and fizzy ginger beer. And candy canes and chocolate and cakes,” Neville recited.

Ron’s eyes lit up. “Wicked! Can we sing too?”

Fred and George cracked up. “Ronnie, you don’t know the words to anything!” they chorused.

“So? I can hum.” Ron said defensively. “My name’s Ron, and these are my brothers, Fred, George, and Percy.”

“He’s a prat,” the twins sniggered.

“Shut up, dunderheads.” Percy ordered. “Or else no egg nog for you later.”

Severus arrived and looked at the bunch of redheaded siblings and his own trio curiously. “And what have we here?”

“Sir, my name is Percy Weasley and might I shake your hand?” Percy began, awestruck. “It’s an honor to meet the most distinguished Potion Master in all of Britain.”

Severus shook the older Weasley’s hand and groaned inwardly. He had never thought being the best at his craft would garner him a kind of celebrity status. He was most uncomfortable with it, as he was a private person. “A pleasure to meet you, Percy.” He looked over at Harry. “Are you ready to sing?”

“Yes, Papa. Can Ron and his brothers sing with us?”

Severus looked startled. He hadn’t expected a choir to turn up out of nowhere. “All right. Knock on the door, Harry, and let Mr. Ollivander know we’re here.”

Harry did so, and Ron came up beside him and whispered, “Maybe when we’re inside, we can take a look around for the wand.”

“I told you, there is no wand,” Harry hissed back, but then the door opened and the wandmaker himself came out, smiling cheerfully.

“Ah, what a lovely surprise. Christmas carolers! Come in, please.” He beckoned them inside.

They sang several songs, and as promised Ron could only hum a lot of them, but Percy and the twins sang quite well and Ollivander handed out bags of Droobles Best Blowing Gum and chocolate covered marshmallows and candy-cane hot cocoa. The Weasleys were delighted with the sweets, though Ron was rather disappointed that he didn’t spot Voldemort’s wand about on the counter or hanging on the wall.

He almost started to ask about it before Percy nudged him sharply and hissed, “Don’t you dare!”

After many thanks, they bid goodbye to the old wand seller and left the shop.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Snape,” said Percy respectfully. “Thank you for letting us sing with you.”

“You are most welcome. Tell your mother I said hello and have a Merry Christmas.”

“See you around, Harry! And you too Neville and Blaise!” Ron waved, clutching his mug of cocoa to him, a grin upon his face. “Merry Christmas!”

They all waved and called Merry Christmas, then the Weasleys continued down the street to the secondhand store where Molly was picking out a few things.

Once they had left Diagon Alley, Severus took them down King’s Way, where all the old purebloods had their town homes. Harry saw the Malfoy residence immediately, it was the tallest most ostentatious residence on the street, the third house from the right. First they went to the Crouch residence, where Barty Crouch who worked for the Ministry was at home relaxing with his house elf Winky.

He was a bit sharp with them, and only gave them a single chocolate coin each. It had Fudge’s portrait on the foil.

“Stingy,” muttered Blaise scornfully.

They moved on to the next house, and the next, and were welcomed at each one. The neighboring house next to the Malfoy’s proved to be the Bulstrode’s, and Severus spent several minutes speaking to Annalisa Bulstrode, young Millie Bulstrode’s mum, they had attended the Academy of Potions Masters together.

Not wanting to hang around and listen to the two discuss potion ingredients, Harry and his friends ran over to the Malfoy residence.

In the upstairs window, Lucius was watching, and when the three rang the doorbell, he Apparated downstairs to be next to Draco, who opened the door for them.

“You made it,” said the blond-haired boy superciliously. “What took you so long?”

“Draco, that’s no way to greet guests,” Lucius reproved calmly. “Go and fetch the hot cocoa I set out on the tray in the foyer.”

“Yes, Father.” Draco turned and scurried away.

He returned to Lucius a few moments later, holding two mugs and followed by Dobby, their house elf, with the third. Each of the mugs were a different color, as Lucius had intended.

Lucius turned to them and said with an oily smile, “I know this is a bit topsy turvy, but I think you could use some hot cocoa after walking all this way.” He handed a blue mug to Blaise and a yellow one to Neville, giving the red one to Harry.

He watched as the boys drank, hiding an evil smirk.

The cocoa was the finest and tasted fabulous, it was just the right temperature, not too hot or too cold and topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles.

Harry drank his down and licked his lips.

Lucius coughed. Then he said, in a rather imperious tone, “You may begin. Why don’t you sing Good King Wenceslas?”

Harry opened his mouth to sing and discovered his voice was gone. What came out was a sound like a frog croaking and a goose honking. Horrified, he clamped a hand over his mouth. What was happening to him? Beneath his chin, his glands began to swell up like small balloons and his eyes turned red and puffy and oozed a thick yellow liquid. He could barely see and he felt terribly ill.

But when he tried to talk to Neville and Blaise and tell them to get his father, all that came out was a cacophony of honking, croaking and the baying of a hound dog. Tears squeezed out of his eyes and he started to cry.

“Harry, what happened?” cried Neville. He was staring at his friend in utter horror.

“Harry, can you talk to us?” cried Blaise, frantic.

Harry shook his head rapidly, tears falling down his cheeks. Go and get my papa! He screamed inwardly.

Draco gasped, looking shocked. “Father, what happened? Is it an allergic reaction?”

“I fear it might be, son,” said Lucius with false concern. “Most unfortunate. Perhaps it was the rich cocoa powder we used, imported from Peru.”

Abruptly, Harry turned and bolted out the door, desperate to find his father.

“Uh, we’ve gotta be going, sir,” Neville said timidly and gave the house elf back his mug and so did Blaise.

Then they departed in great haste.

As Dobby shut the door, Lucius smirked triumphantly. That would teach Snape to mess with a Malfoy.

He turned to his son. “Draco, off to bed with you now, or else Father Christmas won’t come tomorrow morning.”

Draco left and ran up the stairs, thinking that his father was so clever to play a sneaky trick like that.

* * * * * *

Harry slammed into Severus, who was coming down the pavement, and nearly knocked his father backwards. “Harry, what on earth is the matter with you?” Severus demanded crossly.

Harry sobbed, only it came out as a cacophony of animal noises.

“By all that’s good on the earth!” Severus exclaimed. He pulled back a handspan to examine his son, lighting up his wand to maximum brightness as he did so.

Harry’s face was grotesquely swollen by now, Severus bit back a cry of dismay. “Great Merlin, who cursed you?”

Just then Blaise and Neville came running up. “Sir, something really bad happened to Harry when he drank the cocoa!” yelled Neville.

“I think it’s an allergic reaction,” stammered Blaise. “Least that’s what Mr. Malfoy said it was.”

“Malfoy? Where did you meet Malfoy?” Severus demanded, holding Harry against him.

“Over in that house there,” Neville pointed at the huge house. “We went to sing some carols and he gave us some really good cocoa but after Harry drank it, he got like that.”

Severus’ jaw clenched. “There must have been something in that cocoa that caused this.”

“Like an allergic reaction?”

“No, like a potion. And I’m going to make Mr. Malfoy tell me what it was.” Severus said sharply. “After I send you home, that is.” No matter how much he wanted to rip Lucius into pieces, he had to take care of the children first. So he Apparated home with them and told Neville and Blaise to stay with Harry, called Hotspur and explained what had occurred and said he’d be back later.

“How is Grandfather?”

“Sleeping,” answered the elf. “He seems to be getting a bit better.”

“That’s good. Watch over them, please.”

Then he went back to the Malfoy residence, where Lucius was celebrating his coup with a snifter of firewhiskey, and knocked sharply at the door. Lucius answered it, wand in hand. “Snape. What are you doing here? Bit above your tastes, isn’t it?”

“Lucius, you miserable son of a troll! How dare you hex my son?” Severus snarled, his face a mask of fury. Before Lucius could move, he had grabbed the other by the collar and twisted it hard, cutting off the other’s airway.

Lucius gurgled and choked, turning an odd bluish shade.

“Tell me, you pathetic excuse for pond scum, what you did to my son. Now! Or I swear you won’t live to see Christmas morning.” Severus stuck his nose right in the other’s face, and ripped Lucius’ wand away with his other hand.

He shoved the other against the wall and pinned him there with a Body Bind. Then he released his throat and put his wand against the other’s temple.

“What . . .what are you doing, Snape?” rasped the other.

“Making sure you don’t lie to me. This is a bit illegal, shall we say, but then you’re accustomed to doing illegal things, aren’t you, Malfoy?”

“Like you can talk, Snape! I know something about you that no one else does.”

“Such as?”

“Such as you made a cuckold of James Potter and slept with his wife,” Lucius sneered.

Severus nearly burst out laughing. “How do you know that?”

“Because the boy you call son looks just like Lily Potter. I remember you always had a thing for her in school, the Mudblood. Guess you two must have arranged a few assignations while James was away on business, right? And he never knew his son wasn’t really his!”

“You really believe that?”

“Of course. The proof was right before my eyes.”

“You’re pathetic and a fool, Malfoy! Just like always.” Then he growled the word to the Legilimancy spell, and entered Lucius’ memories up until the time he fetched the potion and gave it in the hot cocoa to Harry. “A potion, was it? Where’s the antidote?”

He rummaged through Lucius’ memories again before at last finding what he sought. Then, with the formula for the antidote fresh in his mind, he withdrew. “Here’s a payback for you, old friend!” He wove his wand into a complex pattern and gave the elder Malfoy a bad case of exploding boils, and then he Obliviated him of any memories he had of Harry and himself. Even though Lucius was wrong about Harry’s parentage, he did not want him going down that road, and risk him releasing any kind of information to the press.

“Merry Christmas, Malfoy!” he spat before Apparating away, leaving Lucius still bound against the wall, his face slack and blank, as if in a trance. He would have preferred to see him six feet under, but Lucius wasn’t worth going to Azkaban for.

Once at home again, he set about brewing the antidote to the Menagerie Potion Lucius had brewed, and then he gave Harry the first dose. It would have to be given every three hours until it was gone, which meant both his son and his grandfather were sick for Christmas.

He sent the two boys home after speaking with both Augusta and Marco, Blaise’s dad, explaining what had happened and that the unscrupulous wizard had been dealt with. He also told Augusta that come the new year, he could begin tutoring Neville in potions and herbology and help him with his erratic magical outbursts.

Augusta wished him well and said she hoped his son and grandfather would be well soon.

Once they had gone, Severus was ensconced in a chair beside Harry’s bed, determined to stay with his child until the last of the effects of the potion wore off.

Augustus woke up early on Christmas morning and was full of questions for his grandson. But when he heard what had happened, he no longer had the heart to interrogate Severus. That could be done another time. Instead he wanted to kill Lucius Malfoy.

“That won’t be necessary, Grandfather. I’ve dealt with him. My other priority is getting Harry well so he can enjoy his Christmas gift.” Severus said, his tone still bearing chilly overtones.

“What did you get him?”

“Something he’s been asking for a long time.”

“A kitten. You got him a kitten,” Augustus cried.

“I did. She’s a female. A calico half-Kneazle.” He gently pulled the sleeping kitten out of his pocket. “I just picked her up last night from Magical Menagerie.”

The kitten yawned and opened her eyes, which were a beautiful emerald green.

“I think she’ll make a wonderful familiar,” Augustus chuckled. “Like my Mystic.”

“I agree.” He set the kitten down on the bed, and she walked over to sniff noses with Mystic, who growled a bit and then turned his back and ignored her.

“Poor old fellow,” his master laughed. “She’s not taking your place, don’t get yourself into a pother. This is Henry’s familiar.”

The cat did not budge.

“He’ll come round eventually.” The older wizard stroked the little kitten, who was mostly white except for tiny patches of orange and black across her back and she had orange about one eye and black about the other. “Pretty little thing she is. Kind of reminds me of a patchwork quilt.”

“Will you watch her for a bit? I need to check on Harry.”

Harry was still asleep, but his face had gone mostly back to normal. The glands under his chin were still a little enlarged, but they were not bulging like a frog’s. He suspected the little boy’s throat was sore and his eyes still had a yellowish discharge.

Severus hated to wake him, but he knew he had to administer the potion and Harry would not be happy if he skipped Christmas morning. “Harry, wake up.”

Harry moaned and opened his eyes. “Is it morning yet? I feel all scratchy.” He went to rub his eyes.

Severus caught his hand. “No, don’t rub. I’ll wipe your eyes with a warm wet cloth. But first, drink this next dose.”

Harry did and then Severus rubbed the gunk out of his eyes and said, “Merry Christmas, Harry. Do you feel well enough to open presents?”

“Yes.” He sat up and Severus picked him up and carried him into the drawing room where the tree was. After settling him on the couch, Severus called for Augustus to come down.

Augustus arrived swathed in his house robe and slippers and settled near the fire, the kitten was tucked into a pocket. “Good morning, and Merry Christmas!”

Harry was still feeling a bit under the weather, and so didn’t dash madly to the tree to find presents with his name on them as usual. Instead he sat quietly and allowed Severus to bring them to him, which was a good thing because then the Potions Master could control what was opened first. A good number of the boxes were cat related and Severus wanted to save the kitten for last.

From Augustus that year, Harry received replica team Quidditch robes from his favorite team, the Wimbourne Wasps. From Severus he received a new potions kit and cauldron, since his old Wee Ones Starter Kit was too easy for him by now. He also got several new sets of clothes and a silver cloak with griffindown lining and a cat clasp on it. More books and sweets from Father Christmas.

Augustus had given Severus brand new boots and several gift certificates to all of his favorite shops, plus tickets to the first Wasps Quidditch match, since he had promised to take Harry one day. Severus was no fonder of the sport than he had ever been, but for Harry he would endure a game or two.

Severus gave Augustus a new set of books, crime novels by Agatha Christie, and a new velvet house robe. He handed the old one to Severus, winking, and tried on the new one, it was a perfect fit.

Severus pretended to put the old robe down under the tree, first carefully removing the kitten from the pocket. “Well, Harry, looks like Father Christmas left you something else you’ve been asking for.”

“What?” he rasped, his voice was still scratchy, though he was lucky, he might have done permanent damage to his vocal chords if Severus hadn’t given him the antidote so quickly. Then his eyes lit up when Severus placed the kitten in his arms. “Oh! A kitten for me?” He began to stroke the fuzzy calico furball.

“Yes, she’s all yours.” Severus said, giving him a smile. “And so are these.” He pushed the other presents towards him.

There was a bag of kitten food, toys, a brush, dishes, a tiny collar, and a cat box with litter, plus a book on how to care for a kitten.

Harry just sat there, petting the kitten, who was purring, curled in his lap, clearly happy to be with her new master at last. “Papa, is this a girl or boy kitten?”

“This is a calico cat, Henry,” replied Augustus. “And calico cats are always girls. Have you thought of a name for her?”

“No. Can . . .can you help me?”

“Ahem! Well, I shall try,” said Augustus. “Names are important for cats.”

Then they all went into the dining room to eat breakfast, and Harry fed the calico her first breakfast in her new home.

There was a brief spat as Mystic hissed at the kitten before settling down to eat his salmon, which was a Christmas Day treat for him.

Harry looked alarmed. “Does that mean they don’t like each other? Will he hurt her?”

Augustus shook his head. “No, he’s just crotchety in his old age, Henry. He’ll get used to her. Right, old soldier?”

Mystic continued eating, not bothering to dignify that question with any kind of answer a human would understand.

Warlocke delivered the paper to Augustus, getting a large dead shrew as his Christmas treat. Augustus read the headline and started to chuckle.

“What’s so amusing, Grandfather? Did they spell someone’s name wrong again?” asked Severus.

“No. Here, read it.”

Severus took the paper.

In bold striped ink of red and white was the following headline:

Prominent Ministry Official Lucius Malfoy Nearly Chokes to Death On Candy Cane! Emergency Tracheotomy Performed At St. Mungos—Believed to Have Permanent Vocal Chord Damage!

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer fellow,” muttered the Potions Master. What goes around comes around, Lucius. It would seem the patron saint of children was not amused at your “little prank” on my son.

Then he helped himself to more fried potatoes and eggs and ham, watching Harry over the rim of his coffee mug, making sure he ate at least one portion of oatmeal along with his ham and scrambled eggs and drank his warmed milk with honey.