By eleven o'clock, Harry had escorted his Christmas guests upstairs, where Ginny and Hermione had tumbled into twin beds in one of the spare rooms, while Ron fell into a food-induced stupor in the other, snoring loudly through the closed door. It wasn't surprising, actually, given that the redhead had indulged in a full meal on top of his earlier super-sized sandwich.

Harry had waited impatiently for the others to go on to bed, trying not to APPEAR impatient as the four of them finished decorating the tree after supper. For some reason, Harry had hesitated to hang the silver star, deciding to place it carefully on the coffee table for the time being. Maybe he'd hang it tomorrow, on Christmas morning. The tree looked delightful, even without the star, Lily's baubles reflecting the softly-glowing marble-sized orbs which Hermione had charmed onto the tree. Now, if Ron would just refrain from eating the popcorn garland…

After ensuring that his three guests were ensconced in their respective rooms for the night, Harry crept down the darkened stairs to the living room, his silent feet encased in thick woolen socks. The tree glowed warmly golden in the corner, as the fire's remaining flames dwindled down to crimson embers in the grate.

Wand in hand, Harry stood before the fireplace, staring into the empty mirror above it. No Snape, but he'd definitely been there earlier. No way had Harry hallucinated that face!

"Show yourself," he whispered, his fingers clenched around the length of holly. "Snape—show yourself!"

For a long moment, the mirror reflected only Harry's dimly-lit features. Then, the unmistakable image of Severus Snape slowly materialized upon the tarnished silver backing of the mirror. Harry stared at the image, his green eyes wide with amazement.

"It really IS you! I KNEW it was!" Harry whispered hoarsely. "Professor Snape!"

The silvery transparent face grimaced slightly. "Obviously."

Harry stared into the black eyes bemusedly. "Are you a ghost?"

"Not quite," the erstwhile Potions Master replied, frowning.

A horrifying possibility crossed Harry's mind. "This mirror—is it a Horcrux? YOUR Horcrux?"

The mirror snorted.

"Hardly, Potter."

"Then WHAT?" Harry demanded. Before Snape could answer, he added, "Can you get out of there? I mean, could you appear here, in this room?"

Snape slowly shook his head.

"This mirror, Potter, is little more than a poor equivalent of a Wizarding portrait."

Harry digested that piece of information. Or, rather, he tried to. At his rather blank look, Snape sighed and clarified the situation.

"Your mother worked a bit of Magic to cast my reflection onto the back of the mirror many years ago. Then she Charmed a bit of my living essence into the mirror, just as they do to a portrait in order for it to become animated after the subject's death. Thus, once my physical body had died, my mirror self could appear and speak, just as if I'd had my painted image preserved in a portrait." He rolled his eyes, seeming somewhat disgusted. "I assure you, Potter, that a mirror is an extremely poor substitute for a portrait. I would strongly advise you to have your own portrait properly painted."

After a moment, Harry nodded, although he'd never considered having his portrait painted. He couldn't imagine "living on" as a portrait, like those which lined the walls of Hogwarts. That was just—too weird.

"Okay, so you're not a ghost and you're not a Horcrux. But why did my mum create your 'portrait' in HER mirror? Did my dad know?" Another thought jolted through his brain. "Did you just hang up there SPYING on them? On US?"

The mirror snorted so loudly that Harry looked to see if the glass had fogged. It hadn't.

"The only spying I ever did was for Albus Dumbledore," Snape smirked. "And Dumbledore never asked me to spy on your family."

Harry blew out a huge sigh of relief. "Right. Good. But why…"

Snape cocked his head slightly, looking sideways at Harry from the corner of his eye. "Your mother was gravely concerned for your safety. It was always her intention to have you grow up in this house. However, if anything were to happen to her and James, she wanted for you to inherit the cottage and eventually raise your own children here."

Harry's eyes flew instinctively to the mirror's reflection of the staircase. Up those stairs, Ginny lay sleeping. One day, his—their—children would come scampering down the steps on a cold Christmas morning, their eyes alight with anticipation as they pounced upon the bounty displayed beneath the tree.

"But the three of you had been…" Snape hesitated.

"Marked for death," Harry finished, looking him in the eye.

Snape's gaze fell momentarily, then refocused on the younger wizard. "Yes. This cottage would go to you, if you survived, and Lily… Lily wished for there to be someone watching over you, if she and your father couldn't be here for you themselves. Thus, the mirror.

His voice filled with confusion, Harry murmured, "But why you? Especially when you were still alive back then? What good would the mirror have done while you were alive?"

This time, the mirror's snort sounded somewhat rueful. "I imagine Lily did not believe that I would live much longer. She was the only person besides Dumbledore who knew I was spying on the Dark Lord for the Order. Lily believed that I would be killed the moment that the Dark Lord discovered my true loyalties."

"In other words, Mum thought you'd die really young?"

His lips tight, Snape nodded silently, long black hair reflecting silvery highlights as it swung against his cheeks.

"How ironic that Voldemort never knew the truth. To the very end, he believed you were his loyal follower," Harry asserted.

Disgust coloring his tone, Snape muttered, "He certainly experienced several serious moments of doubt through the years."

Harry swallowed hard, trying not to imagine what must have transpired on those occasions.

"So … I was supposed to grow up here, with you watching over me from the mirror?"

Snape's eyebrow quirked. "Not quite that simple, Potter. The mirror was supposed to go WITH you, wherever you lived. Lily had made that stipulation in her will, so that I could 'spring into action' the moment I died." He smirked without humor. "However, her sister objected quite strenuously when Dumbledore showed up on her doorstep with the mirror on the day that Lily's will was read."

"So Aunt Petunia knew it was a magic mirror? No wonder she was angry! She HATED magic! No wonder she wouldn't have wanted it in her house."

"She hated to be reminded of a power which she did not possess," Snape corrected him. "But she did rightly guess that the mirror was somehow Magical in nature, and she flatly refused to have anything to do with it, even if it did belong to the nephew whom she'd taken in. After Petunia rejected the idea of keeping the mirror in her home, Dumbledore rehung it here in the cottage, where it remained protected by the stasis charms and other wards which he cast after your parents' deaths. And, as I was still alive when you finally came to Hogwarts, there was never any need for it to be brought to the school at all."

"But now I'm living here in the cottage, the mirror's here, and you're … here." Harry couldn't bring himself to say "dead"—not when Snape was speaking to him so calmly, face to mirrored face.

The two wizards regarded each other.

Harry finally broke the silence. "Um—so, are you planning to … watch over me for the rest of my life?" What an incredibly unnerving thought.

The mirror chuckled.

A rather dark chuckle, to be sure, but an amused chuckle, nevertheless.

Harry could see his own reflected eyes bugging out as he watched his dour former Professor laugh quietly.

"Personally, Potter, I should prefer not to, since Lily only made me promise to do so until you were of age."

"Yes, well, I am now. So don't feel as if you have to knock yourself out. I can manage. I've taken care of myself all of my life. I had to. You can just—run along, Professor. Or can you? Are you trapped in the mirror forever?" Harry felt that his eyes must now appear as protuberant as Luna Lovegood's at the idea of Snape's looming over his every moment until the end of Harry's final days.

Snape examined his former student speculatively. "You could always break the mirror, Potter. However, that seems a rather drastic step to take with one of your mother's treasured possessions. I seem to recall that this mirror originally belonged to one of your maternal great-grandmothers."

Harry nodded dumbly. Then he thought to ask, "If you 'came back' in the mirror when you died in the Shrieking Shack…"

The silvered head dipped once, affirmatively.

"…then why did I not see you until today? I've been around this mirror ever since I began restoring my cottage last summer."

Snape actually smiled. "Like Wizarding portraits, I do actually spend the majority of my time sleeping. Unlike a portrait, however, the mirror shows my image only when I'm awake." He looked unusually thoughtful for a moment. "I do believe that is the only advantage I can see in the mirror over a portrait—I don't have people gawking at me while I'm sleeping."

Harry couldn't help grinning. "I guess you don't have to worry about anyone painting a fake moustache on your face while you're sleeping, either. That might have been a problem with a portrait!"

The mirror snorted forcefully.

"I daresay such a miscreant would not have stopped at a mere moustache."

When did Snape develop a sense of humor, Harry wondered, even as he laughed quietly. "I suspect you are one hundred percent correct about that, sir."

Snape smirked, and this time Harry could detect a silver glint of amusement in the black eyes.

"So," he continued, "you've been sleeping all these months? Some watchdog you turned out to be!"

The mirror laughed aloud, the rich tones flowing to every corner of the softly-lit living room. "Had you truly needed my assistance, such as it might be, I would have woken before now."

Even as Harry himself laughed, he couldn't believe he was grinning back at a smiling Severus Snape. This was just too surreal! Ron would never believe him!

When they had quieted, Snape inquired, "I take it that you wish for me to leave? Go back to sleep until July?"

"July?"

"Lily was quite insistent that I be 'especially attentive' to you on your birthday and at Christmas."

"Christmas!" exclaimed Harry. "So that's why you've been hanging about all day."

As Snape inclined his head in acknowledgment, a thought shot across Harry's mind. "Before you go … back to sleep … could you tell me something? About this?" Harry turned around and crossed the woven rug to the maple coffee table. He picked up the shining star ornament and brought to over to the fireplace, holding it up toward the mirror for Snape's inspection.

"What do you wish to know?"

Harry cradled the star gently between his palms. "I remember—I SEEM to remember hanging this on a Christmas tree when I was young. I remember being held up high so I could hang it at the very top of the tree, and Mum kept saying, 'Hang a shining star, Harry! Hang a shining star!' And when I'd hung it, I was lowered down again and someone was holding me. A man. A man with black eyes. Was that you? And how could I have hung an ornament when I was only five months old on my first Christmas?" He looked up at Snape in silent appeal. Please have the answers, his emerald eyes begged. I need to KNOW!

The corners of Snape's eyes crinkled, just like the man's in Harry's memory.

"Yes, I held you up to hang the star. But it wasn't Christmas."

Harry gaped at him. "But it was a Christmas tree—I KNOW it was!"

"A Christmas tree, yes, but it happened on your birthday."

"What? My birthday? In July? Why?"

The mirror chuckled.

"It was Lily's idea." Snape paused for a moment. "I don't know whether she'd had a premonition—she had a bit of the Sight, your mother. But she was so afraid that you wouldn't have a second Christmas, she decided to celebrate Christmas on your first birthday. A double celebration, complete with a Christmas tree and a birthday cake."

Harry's jaw dropped again. "You're joking!"

"Lily was quite serious."

"And YOU were there?"

"That's the day she charmed the mirror."

Harry thought for a moment. "And … my dad?"

Snape's lips compressed into a thin silver line. "James did us the courtesy of going to the kitchen while Lily discussed the mirror with me."

"And the star?"

"The tree was fully decorated, all but the star. She asked me to hold you up. Your father came to the kitchen doorway to watch."

"Did he … did he take a picture of me hanging the star?" It would be nice to have something to show to Hermione and the others, so they'd know he wasn't mental.

"No." The mirror sighed. "I doubt that James would have wanted a look at a photograph of me holding up his son."

This time, it was Harry who sighed. "I see." He fell silent, thinking. After a couple of minutes, during which the only sound in the room came from a crackling ember as it fell through the grate, Harry dared to ask, "WHY were you there, Professor? I mean … my mum …" He trailed off awkwardly, then blurted out, "I'm sorry, sir. Truly, I am. About the Pensieve. I never got to tell you before you died, but I know I never should have intruded into your private memories. But when I did … I could finally understand your attitude toward my father. And Sirius. And Lupin. I—I honestly don't blame you for hating them."

Harry peered at Snape's silvered face, which had taken on that impenetrable mask that had been so characteristic of the living Snape.

"About my mum… If the two of you parted so … so badly in Fifth Year, why did she ask you to 'watch over me'? Was it just because she figured you'd die before anyone else did? That seems rather cold…"

The mirror hmphhed.

"Lily guessed that I'd been the one who told Dumbledore that the Dark Lord had targeted the three of you. She knew I'd taken the Dark Mark. But she also knew my heart, better even than I did. When she put me on the spot, I admitted I'd passed the information to Dumbledore and asked for him to protect her … family." Snape's black gaze met Harry's emerald eyes. "She forgave me for that day by the lake. She had no idea that, by then, I had committed another act which was far more unforgivable." He closed his eyes in remembered pain. "And she put her trust in me to watch over her son, if I would agree. I did—and I watched over you from the moment you first set foot in Hogwarts. I didn't need a mirror for that."

Harry looked down at his wand, gently stroking its polished length. How excited he'd been to go to Hogwarts, and he'd gone, never realizing that his mother's request for Snape's protection would result in his life being saved on multiple occasions. He looked back up at Snape.

"Thank you, sir. I never got to say that either, but I mean it sincerely. Thank you for watching over me and saving my life." He paused. "And I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble through the years."

Did the mirror just wobble, Harry wondered. Better not to ask!

"I did it for Lily, Potter."

Harry's head bobbed. "I realize that. But I personally do appreciate your efforts. Just so you know."

Snape quirked his eyebrow. "Tell me, Potter. Has our little discussion ended? May I sleep until July?"

"Could I…"

"Spit it out, Potter."

"Do you … happen to know … what my parents believed about Christmas?"

The mirror frowned at his question. "In what respect?"

"Christmas? You know—were they religious or not? Did they go to church? Or did they have a secular Muggle celebration? Or did they do a … parody? Like other Wizards do?" Harry gulped involuntarily. Who KNEW what Snape himself believed. "Do you know what I mean, Professor?"

Snape studied him closely.

"Yes, Potter," he responded at last. "I do understand your meaning. As for your father, I can't really answer. I only ever saw him around Christmas time at school. Nothing would cause me to believe that he had any religious beliefs. At least not while he was still a student. Whether he developed other beliefs later on, I cannot say."

Harry's face fell. "So, do you think he had a typical Wizarding attitude toward Christmas? Back then?"

"I believe that would probably be a fairly accurate assessment."

"And my mum?"

Snape smiled so broadly that the mirror virtually lit up.

"Lily believed in Christmas, oh, yes! When we were children, her parents always invited me to go with them to church for Christmas services. Lily and I also went caroling with a children's choir for several years. One year, we took part in a Nativity play—we were two halves of a camel."

Harry laughed aloud in astonishment. "Which half were you?"

The mirror glared at him. "The front half, of course. Do you honestly think I would agree to be the HIND end of any animal?"

Unable to help himself, Harry snickered loudly.

"Hmphh." Snape tossed his long hair in annoyance. "Unlike Petunia, who showed no real interest in Christmas aside from the commercial aspect of amassing as many gifts as possible, Lily plunged into the celebration with a joyous heart. She baked with her mother, decorated with her father, and read the Christmas story aloud from the Holy Bible after lighting a white Christmas candle."

"The Christmas story?" murmured Harry uncertainly. "Um—where, exactly?"

"Lily's favorite version was in the Gospel According to Luke. She had it memorized, but she would always open the Bible and read it aloud. It was part of the Evans' holiday tradition."

"Luke."

Snape nodded. Suddenly looking thoughtful, he asked, "Did you find Lily's Bible when you were restoring the cottage?"

Harry shook his head. "I didn't know she had one, so I didn't know to look for it. And it never turned up during the cottage renovations, either." His shoulders slumped sadly. "It would have been nice to have something that meant so much to my mum."

"The day I was here…" Snape's voice trailed off as he closed his eyes in concentration, "…she took it out to read to you before you hung the star. It was—" he pointed toward a built-in bookcase, "—in there. A hidden drawer, if I recall correctly."

Harry approached the bookcase and ran his hands over the surface. "I don't see a drawer."

"I just told you it was hidden," Snape retorted tartly.

Rolling his eyes, Harry backed up several feet. Pointing his wand at the bookcase, he said, "Alohomora drawer!"

A quiet click preceded the sudden sliding open of what Harry had assumed was a solid panel of wood. Slowly, he peered into the drawer which had emerged … and there it was. A Bible bound in burgundy leather, with a black satin ribbon dangling from between its pages. Mesmerized, Harry carefully picked up the heavy tome, noting the name "Lily Evans" stamped in small gold letters toward the bottom of the front cover. He ran his fingers over the gold, imagining his mother to have done the same upon first receiving the Bible for her own.

Harry then opened the Bible to the pages which the ribbon marked, and there he found the Gospel According to Luke, the very pages containing the Christmas story. Overcome by a sudden urge, he conjured a white pillar candle and set it on the mantelpiece, just to the side of the antique mirror. After lighting it with his wand, he began to read aloud the very words which his mother had read each Christmas:

"3 And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

"4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem…

"5 To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child…

"7 And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn…

"10 And the angel said … Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

"11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord…"

Snape listened silently until Harry had finished reading and quietly closed the Bible.

Harry hugged the holy book to his chest, looking searchingly up at Snape. "She really believed this, didn't she, Professor?"

"Indeed she did."

Harry bit his lip. "But so many people don't. They say there's no real proof. That's what Aunt Petunia always claimed."

"Quite frankly, Potter, I'd find it easier to take the Bible on faith than to take Petunia Evans Dursley with a notarized affadavit."

Harry laughed, then quickly sobered.

"What … do you believe, sir?"

Snape remained silent for so long, Harry thought he'd refuse to answer altogether. Then, quietly, reverently, the silvery image quoted, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

"I've heard that before," said Harry.

"John 3:16," noted Snape. "I believe it has been translated into more languages than any other single verse of scripture."

"And you believe it, sir?"

Snape's reflected image seemed to glow.

"I was dying," he whispered. Then, in a stronger voice, he said, "I lay on the floor of the Shrieking Shack as you knelt above me. You may find this hard to believe, but I was grateful that you were there. You, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley, all. I did not relish the idea of dying alone. Particularly in such a fashion. Had you not come, my body might not have been found for many months. Since you all were there, I knew that someone would be certain to give me a burial, whether or not you felt that I deserved one. You and your cohorts are decent-hearted people, after all." He looked down at Harry without scorn or sneering. Harry realized that Snape had just paid him a compliment.

Harry nodded. "Yes, we DID make sure of it! We couldn't just leave you there … like that." He shuddered. "I'd never be able to live with myself…"

With a wry smile, Snape continued.

"I lay dying, and all I could think about was Lily. I wanted…" He took a ragged breath. "I wanted to see her one last time. My childhood friend. The only woman I had ever loved. I just wished I could look into her eyes once more… You have her eyes, Harry."

Harry's emerald eyes widened at the man's use of his given name. "That's why you said—"

"Look … at … me."

Tears sprang to Harry's eyes as the memory of that moment, of those words, fell into their correct context. "I'm so sorry, sir. I must have been a poor substitute."

Snape's image glowed even brighter.

"No need to apologize, Harry. I began by seeing your eyes, but then—then I saw Lily's own eyes. She was there, leaning over me, speaking so clearly…"

Snape's black eyes glistened with a silvery glint of moisture.

"What…" whispered Harry, "what did she say?"

"'Believe, Severus! BELIEVE!'"

A luminescent tear trickled down his silver cheek.

"And I did. I DID."

The mirror gave a gasping sob.

"In that final second before dying, I SAW it, Harry. It was all there, so beautiful, more beautiful than anything Magical. Magic pales in comparison to Truth."

"Truth?"

"Truth. It's all TRUE, Harry. The Christmas story is TRUE. Lily showed me."

Tears rolled down Harry's cheeks. "And Mum is there?"

"She'll be waiting for you, too, when your time comes. But you must BELIEVE."

Snape bowed his head, compressing his quivering lips. "I hadn't thought I was worthy of being saved. After all I had done. The mistakes I had made. All of the people I'd hurt … and worse. The person I'd become while serving the Dark Lord. And even after turning back to the Light, I was no longer a good person. Something always felt … broken … inside me. But Lily … she showed me that I only needed to BELIEVE, and all was possible."

Harry swiped his hand across his cheeks, trying to bring his tears under control. Finally, he KNEW what he wanted to believe about Christmas, what his mother had believed as well, but…

"What about Dad? Was he there with Mum?"

Snape shrugged. "I only saw Lily. But Harry, it doesn't mean that your father didn't Believe before he died. Lily always could be extremely persuasive with hardheaded Gryffindors."

Harry gave an involuntary snicker through his tear-clogged nose.

"However, I suppose it's just as well that I only saw Lily in the end. If James had put in an appearance, I might have decided I'd be better off … elsewhere."

"Really!" Harry blurted out, rather shocked that Snape would say such a thing in the wake of their illuminating discussion.

Snape smirked slightly, but with good humor. "No, not really. But time was so short—mere seconds—I didn't hesitate with Lily alone. Had I hesitated, my soul would have been lost."

Harry stared down at the fading embers in the fireplace, a reminder of the lively fire which had burned there just a few hours earlier. Like people's lives, he mused. Strong in the beginning, but fading to nothingness in the end. Or, occasionally, doused and extinguished without warning. He looked back up at Snape, one more question in his heart.

"And the Christmas story … it works for Wizards, too? Not just Muggles?"

"'Good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people,'" quoted Snape. "ALL people, Harry. And 'Whosoever believeth', Harry. 'Whosoever' is all inclusive."

Harry smiled as his heart lightened.

"I think I'll hang my star now."

The corners of Snape's black eyes crinkled like silver Christmas foil.

Crossing the living room to the corner filled by the softly-glowing evergreen, Harry gently extended the hook from the top of the star ornament and reached as high as he could. Not QUITE high enough, he realized with chagrin. He needed something to stand on…

"Shall I lift you up again?" the mirror inquired rather snidely, but Harry caught a hint of humor in the empty offer.

"Nope. I've got a step-stool." Harry carefully placed the stool just against the lowermost branches of the decorated Christmas tree. The invigorating scent of pine followed him as he mounted the sturdy oaken steps.

"You could always Levitate the star into place," the mirror suggested, ending with a slight snort.

Harry scoffed. "In a pig's eye! This has to be done PROPERLY."

Now, the top of the Christmas tree was within easy reach. Harry stared at the bare green needles on the tallest branch shooting upwards from the trunk itself. His hand, no longer pudgy but narrower and lean, raised the hook toward that highest spot. He paused, the star swinging from the hook, closed his eyes, and the memory filled his mind again.

"Hang a shining star, Harry! Hang a shining star!" His mum, laughing and clapping … the feel of strong hands lifting him way higher than he'd ever been before … and now he could even see his father leaning in the kitchen doorway with multicolored Christmas lights reflecting off his glasses, a reluctant smile twitching his lips as James watched his tiny son putting the crowning touch on their Christmas tree…

Harry opened his eyes, Lily's gay voice still echoing in his mind. He stretched … and he hung the shining star at the very top of the tree.

"I did it, Mum!" he called softly, hoping she could hear him on Christmas Eve. "I hung your shining star! Happy Christmas, Mum and Dad. I love you both."

He heard no reply, but a sensation of gentle warmth quietly enveloped him, far more warmth than he would have felt had someone merely stirred up the embers in the fireplace.

"Mum?" he whispered, holding his breath.

Nothing, but…

The warmth continued to surround him as he turned back to the mirror.

Snape was gone.

After backing down off the step-stool, Harry padded across the rug to the frosty window. Outside, the snow clouds had passed, and in the velvety-black sky, stars shone brightly over Godric's Hollow.

A little way down the cobbled street, the bell on the village church tolled midnight